Stones and Glass Houses (Book 1)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/33663511.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: F/F, F/M
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types,
Marvel (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Relationships: Damian Wayne/Original Female Character(s), Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne,
Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Jon Lane Kent/ Yelena Belova, Stephanie
Brown/Tim Drake, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Steve Rogers/Natasha
Romanov, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Characters: Avengers Team, Batfamily Members, Damian Wayne, Jon Lane Kent,
Yelena Belova, Michelle Jones, Peter Parker, Harry Osborn, Ned Leeds,
Original Female Character(s), Harley Keener, Various MCU Characters,
Justice League (DCU)
Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Crossover, a little bit of
hurt/comfort, Violence, Blood and Injury, slight deviations from canon
but most of it is accurate, Feels, Found Family, Action/Adventure,
Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Domestic Batfamily (DCU), Crime
Fighting, a serious attempt at making fanfic cliches better, Attempt at
Humor, quite a bit of snark thanks to Alfred Tony and Jason, Family
enemies, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Parent Tony Stark, Idiots in
Love, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, REALLY LONG CHAPTERS,
Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, too much research was done for
this but I have no regrets, Waynes vs Starks, Domestic Avengers, young
avengers with a twist, assassins being dorks, Academic rivals, Damian
and Jon go to Midtown, Dick Grayson is basically Damian's parent
sometimes, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Red Room and
League of Assassins rivalry, batkids and avengers meddling in teenage
love story, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Artist
Damian Wayne, Yelena Belova is saved, classic who did this to you?
with too many feels, adopted children in both families, Stark Wayne and
Osborn heirs supremacy, detentions and projects help assassins bond just
like deadly missions, forced proximity?, Only one bed bonding, Lots of
character development, the principal if fed up with Wayne/Stark drama,
batkids scheme for Damian's happiness
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of Avengers Dynasty Series
Collections: Ashes' Library
Stats: Published: 2021-09-03 Completed: 2022-11-03 Words: 774,793
Chapters: 98/98
 Stones and Glass Houses (Book 1)
by Atheria

Summary

Brown eyes met vibrant green ones with an intensity neither balked at, as if it were a mighty
force of equal potency that canceled the other out.

The long standing legacy of the Stark name on one side of the net, the ancient glory of the
Wayne family on the other. The extinct Red Room and League of Shadows, once
organizations of great magnitude and power, were represented as the true enemies they’d
once been. Only this time not as armies of spies and assassins, but as two adolescents in a
mundane school gym. Such a long and troubling history hung between the two teens like
invisible connecting tendrils of fate even past the confines of the worn net between them, for
these were legacies that transcended simple quarrels or distaste. Somehow against all odds,
Damian Wayne and Brooklyn Stark had managed to cross paths once more, and though each
was well aware of what they stood to lose for possibly escalating their hidden anger before
Midtown's students, there was no denying that the outcome of this battle would be one of
many future consequences regardless of the violence used.

As soon as Damian's fisted hands made contact with the ball, their generation resumed the
long war.
 Blue Monday in NYC [Part 1]
Chapter Notes

(Formerly known as Avengers Dynasty)

Hi everyone! I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please keep
in mind that I'll be making edits to the story as often as I can, mostly fixing grammar
mistakes or embellishing dull words (I'm excepting help from more 'beta readers' too, if
you're interested please message me here on AO3 or at portalsofatheria on Tumblr!)

A million thanks to my first wonderful beta reader Her11, who is helping me edit the
first few chapters to bring you guys the best version of this story. I'll be editing the
chapters bit by bit for you to have the best reading experience! Also huge thanks to
Mar_Ryouto for helping with the Russian! For those of you who have read the story
prior to September 2022, you may want to see what's changed since I'll be adding new
scenes here and there that you may find interesting. As of Sept 29th 2023 the story has
been edited up to chapter 53 (plus 60, 93,94,95, 96).

You can also add this story to your collections now (I had no idea one needed to grant
permission for that but I think I fixed it).

The different parts of the story will have little ‘covers’ of sorts that the lovely Maisy
made for me. She’s a fan of the series and reached out to fix the original cover but we
ended up getting a little carried away. That being said, the art used is not drawn by her
nor was it drawn for my story specifically (as for the actual fandoms being depicted, I
honestly don’t know, sorry). All artists are incredibly talented individuals and will be
given credit for their sublime work separately
(Cover art by kohffi and made by the lovely Maisy. )

I sincerely look forward to your comments and reactions. Enjoy the story!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

 Part 1: Changes

"From childhood's hour I have not been. As others were, I have not seen. As others saw, I
could not awaken. My heart to joy at the same tone. And all I loved, I loved alone"

-Edgar Allan Poe

Brooklyn POV-

Blue Monday.

A decent song, one she wouldn't have minded had it not played five times today.

Brook would go change it, but the man finishing up a cheese pie was very demanding.
Napkins, new forks, a glass of water...he wanted it all.

The newspaper down the counter was wrinkled and smelled of old cardboard, just like the
man reading it. Brooklyn wasn't one to resort to newspapers, the internet held enough
information as it was, but she rarely wondered about the happenings around the world,
especially when she was so busy worrying about herself.

That didn't mean the man before her would give up his ancient habits.

From her place cleaning the already spotless counter, Brook could barely make out the title in
large bold letters.

Tragedy Prevented by the Avengers in Dubai.

Brook couldn't help rolling her eyes as she cleaned, breathing in the potent scent of the strong
cleaner in hand. While most (if not all), of the students at her school praised the famed heroes
like deities, she wanted nothing more than to keep her distance from them.

All of them. That meant the Avengers, the aliens, the freaks, and the mutants.

Sure, they did all kinds of 'good deeds' for the world, like saving the very city she stood in
from an alien attack a few years back. That was good and all, Brook would have hated
becoming a slave to the anarchist rule of space creatures at the mere age of eleven.

That didn't mean she'd go around praising the very ground these heroes walked on, that
would just be pathetic.
"Hey, you! Red lips!" Newspaper guy yelled, flashing a twenty her way "I have places to be!"

Then again, the alien tyrannical rule might have been good too. Being ruled by an Asgardian
would have spared her this nonsense.

Gritting her teeth, Brooklyn resisted the urge to stab one of the nearby forks into one of the
guy's green eyes. She could have also stabbed the hand that he continued to impatiently wave
around, but he seemed old enough that such trauma could trigger a heart attack.

She happened to like her job too much to do anything. Lucky him.

Instead of doing what her instincts screamed, Brook took the bill and did her very best not to
throw the change at his face.

By the time the old man left, she was relieved to see the place was now completely vacated.
With a contented sigh, she took off her frilly white and red apron and set it on the back
counter. Brook also pulled the heaping mess of hair out of her ponytail on the way to close all
the blinds, thinking she might need to trim the edges soon. Without parental supervision,
simple things like that were easily overlooked for months.

Maybe she should give her parents a call soon? Check-in.

They were likely busy. Always busy.

Early October was party time in New Orleans after all. Well, one could argue that place was
in constant party mode all year round.

Besides, there was nothing she needed to speak to them about, Brook would likely just end
up hearing nothing from all the music outside anyways.

Following her usual routine, Brook pulled up a few chairs, turned off the noisy boombox with
a sway of her hip, and for just a second, let the fluorescent lights glow across her skin in the
empty space.

Bright greens and reds lit up the room beautifully, increasing the urge to buy similar neon
lights at home. The glow of them even spread to the outside, illuminating the dark streets of
the city of Brooklyn, like a beacon of joy.

The Coca-Cola clock by the register read 10 pm. Time to clock out at last.

When she made her way over to the employee room in the back, she could already feel the
exhaustion from the day's work. Brook couldn't even be angry by the fact that one of her
coworkers left a pair of dirty socks on the glossy red bench in front of her employee locker.

Grabbing one of the loitered jackets, she enveloped the socks inside. Without a second
thought, Brooklyn tossed it into the dirty water bucket used to clean the floors.

It was a perfect shot.

Ollie had it coming, how could he own a Chicago Stags jacket in New York? If you lived in
New York, you were obligated to like the Knicks.

Even if they sucked. Simple as that.

With an involuntary yawn, Brook tossed her cream colored 60s dress and name tag into the
locker, changing into more comfortable clothes for the cold awaiting her outside.

It didn't help that she'd stayed up late last night studying for a math test, and decathlon
practice had run till four today. Work was a separate exhaustion on its own piled onto all that.
With impossible customers and pained cheeks from smiling all shift, it was a wonder she'd
managed to put her coat on right.

One would think she'd be used to it by now, she’d hoped that would occur. Brook had been
working at the cafe & diner for over four years after all.

She'd initially taken the job to earn money for bills and supplies despite the cash her parents
sent. Now she'd grown to enjoy the place, despite its many flaws like dirty socks from
careless coworkers. It had likely been one of the best decisions of her life, even if people like
newspaper guy tended to test her patience.

Spending her afternoon here was probably the most pleasant part of her day. Filled with an
illusion of a world from the past with all the 60s vibes going on, it was easy to get lost in a
good mood. This place was also much prettier than Brook's apartment, and in her eyes, it was
much better to pass time here than locked up in her flat.

The diner was a nice and cozy two-story building, and despite its outdated style, it was
usually filled to the brim most days, predominantly with college students and working adults
from all over the city. Brooklyn city residents tended to like the colorful and fun things in life
when they were constantly trapped in a busy and bleak city with enough smog to shorten
their lives exponentially.

As a Brooklyn resident herself, she could sympathize. Brook had spent all her time after
school inside the diner her first few years in New York after settling down properly.

Looking at the door leading out back into the dark alleyway, she remembered the days before
she became a regular, and the time afterward when she came in enough for the owner to take
special notice of her.

He'd often mocked her that she should be out and about with the other kids of her school.
Sometimes when the owner noticed kids with a similar blue and white uniform, he'd try to
nudge her their way from her hidden booth in the corner of the place. Eventually, once he
realized that wasn't really Brook's scene, and he also came to know that she understood how
to work all the machines over the counter just by observing them for a few weeks, he offered
her a job, one which she gladly accepted.

Since she had classes all morning and afternoon, she'd opted to work from 5 to 10pm, even
though that was the busiest shift. A foolish choice her younger self had made.
Her boss later on admitted to being worried about her ability to handle the job, with her
snarky attitude and all. She hadn't bothered to explain that interacting with other people
wouldn't be an issue for her. Brook had been trained to do that successfully.

As if thinking about said boss served as a mental summons, the wild man came into the back
room with four books in hand. When he seemed to be having trouble balancing them,
Brooklyn didn't even hesitate to spread out a hand, catching the poor books seconds before
they spilled over the old floors.

The owner of the place was a nice man in his late thirties, with spec-like glasses and an
affinity for old coats. You know, like the one's detectives or serial killers wear.

Thankfully, her boss was neither of those two.

When he looked down at her, his long brown hair that fell in waves looked almost green
against the bright orange lights of the back room.

It made Brook laugh, even with the exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Though he was a master coffee maker, his pastimes involved reading in a secluded corner of
the diner, fooling most customers into thinking he wasn't the owner, but just an oddly dressed
regular. Brooklyn had figured out his true identity her second day at the establishment, that's
how they became acquaintances.

Overall, he was funny, and a little weird, but Brook liked it. And was very thankful for the
job.

Now done with her shift, she handed over the keys to the register and the books to her boss so
that he could pass the keys on to Ollie, a coworker who had to reopen the shop in five hours.

Brook had also learned in her few years of existence that Americans simply could not live
without a cup of coffee while they stayed up all night, helping unfortunate souls like Ollie
stay awake successfully. Not that she cared about Ollie in the slightest, hell, she'd just ruined
his stay clothes!

The memory of that brought a small smile to her face just then.

Her boss ignored the smile, but he thanked her for the help with the books, placing the keys
in a coat pocket he'd likely forget about.

"How was the shift?" he asked, placing his things at the foot of his office door before
caressing the small black cat he insisted on keeping around.

Brook glared at the stray but ultimately sighed in defeat. After two weeks of staying here,
being fed and taken care of by a gullible man, the creature was likely to become another
coworker of hers.

Then again, she had been a stray too. Who was she to judge?
After placing her black beret on her head in an effort to hide the frizz of her red hair, Brook
turned back to her boss and gave him a long look.

"You were here the whole time. You should know how wonderful my shift was"

Marshall laughed, a sound akin to Barney Ruble's own cackles. Her boss, still petting the
damn cat lounging in his arms, sighed dramatically.

"I was immersed in the beautiful world of Verona, swimming along the tears of the broken-
hearted!"

Brooklyn sighed.

"You shouldn't be reading that romantic crap. Romeo and Juliet isn't even that good by
literature standards anyways, I had to read it last year"

Marshall gaped like a five-year-old.

"You are impossible, young lady! How will you ever find love with an attitude like that?"

Brook laughed, "I'm not planning on it. Love is nothing but a unique blend of brain
chemicals. Lust is governed by estrogen and testosterone, and the long-term attachment is
just oxytocin and vasopressin"

Her boss blinked at her in silence for a few seconds, likely trying to process the words that
had been engraved into her mind since she could walk.

When he turned to take a look at the scattered mail on a rusty old table Brook was sure would
collapse within her lifetime, she couldn't see his expression, but from the shake of his head,
she could tell he was unhappy.

"One of these days, some wonderfully sweet guy is going to sweep you off your feet, girl.
And Uncle Marshall will be at your wedding screaming I told you so!"

That truly made her laugh.

Before he could start one of his sappy love explanations, Brook punched in her work card
and tried not to seem desperate as she went towards the rusty back door.

"Hey, kid!" Marshal yelled eyes still on the mail in hand, "It's late, don't you need me to walk
you home?"

Brook smiled, pulling her gloves in place with the help of her mouth as she used her
shoulders and back to open the door. Of course, he offered to walk her back home. He was
always so worried about her safety in the big bad streets of New York.

Even after all these years, he still worried even when nothing bad had ever occurred...not that
anything could occur anyways.
"Never mind, you're just going to say that you can take care of yourself. Go on then Grace
O'Malley, into the darkness you go!" he yelled back, waving his hand in dismissal.

That man read too many books.

Marshall always said there was something odd about her, and he was right, she just never
spoke of it. But Brook's boss was funny, and he liked to say she was a warrior like one from
his endless supply of books.

Grace O'Malley was a new one.

Strapping her bag across her chest, Brook kept the door open long enough to yell back, "Is it
the hair?"

From somewhere within his office he replied, "It's the attitude that you have in common! The
hair is just a coincidence"

******

On her way out, Brook pulled the black scarf closer to her body, using her side bag as a way
to warm her leg in addition to the large vintage coat with green, brown, and red lined patterns
( a gift from Marshall).

The sound of her sneakers walking in puddles from last night's rain was the only noise
present as she made a shortcut through an alley. Vaguely, she mourned the now wet state of
her limited edition Minnie Mouse socks. Limited edition being a kind term for Thrift-store-
bought-trash.

Brook would have to do laundry again before bed.

She made it to one of the main streets where students from the city's universities were
clamoring around bars and party halls. It was noisy enough to bother her after such a long
day. Brooklyn was cold and wanted to make it home after a long day, and since the risk of
trouble was low, it seemed like an appealing idea to take a shortcut.

You know, like a dumbass.

Pulling her black beret down onto her forehead, Brook tried to chase away the nightly chill,
focused on what to make for dinner instead of her surroundings as she made for a long
alleyway that would take her home faster.

Halfway down the alley, the teen heard the clashing of shoes against water behind her, and
the sound of a loaded gun rang along the space.

Slowly turning around, Brook was faced with a guy in old clothes and a cheap mask over his
head. Looking down at his hands revealed the weapon that had made the earlier sounds, the
sounds of a gun loading.

A Glock 19, unmistakably a Gen 4 with a 9mm Luger.

"Give me the purse, li’l lady, or I'll blow ya' skull off before ya' can even get a scream out"
the guys said, failing miserably to make his voice deeper as a commonly used scare tactic.

He must have seen her turn this way, and she'd been too busy focusing on mundane things
rather than paying attention as someone of her caliber should’ve been doing.

Looking at her black school bag/purse, Brook realized she did have a good 200 dollars in
cash from her recent paycheck.

No way was she giving that up.

Pushing her long red hair out of her face, she laughed, giving him the chance to leave her
alone unless he wanted to get hurt. She had fought things much worse than this man,stronger
and faster foes, and had killed them too.

Either way, it was pathetic she was being threatened by a common New York robber.

Adding to her growing annoyance, three more guys emerged from the shadows, not with
guns, but a broken a pipe, a baseball bat, and one just had a rusty old tool that looked an
awful lot like a wrench under the dim lighting.

Well...it HAD been a while since Brook had this much fun.

With a fresh smirk on her face, she made to put her bag on the ground, like a compliant and
terrified teen would do. Instead, she swung it towards the gun, knocking it from the guy's
hand. Brook quickly kicked his stomach as she rammed her fingers into his eyeballs, her own
eyes glinting with glee. Then, she proceeded to throw him against a car window. It was a
miracle the car alarm didn't go off, especially with the shattered glass everywhere.

Next, she gathered her old instincts, analyzing the situation before her.

She was in an alley between two large apartment complexes, with only two street lights
providing useless amounts of lighting, and maybe a few large trash cans as possible weapons.
She could try and scream for help, but New Yorkers were not exactly known for helping
those in need, they would likely just yell at her to die quietly as they tried to sleep.

It didn't help that these people had been hardened by the Battle of New York many years ago,
having fought for their lives and stared the impossible in the eye, not to mention they’d
struggled to regain what they had lost.

Likely why these people were robbing her in the first place.

Brook held no grudges there, life was tough, and sometimes you needed to be tougher. But
often enough, surviving the impossible made people stupid; made them think they were
dangerous and powerful.

Slowly taking off her coat, gloves and hat; she folded them neatly atop her discarded bag as
the men screamed for their unconscious friend.
The teen made a show of cracking her knuckles when the men decided to get nearer. None of
them found it amusing though.

Pushing off the brick wall from one of the apartment buildings, she roundhouse kicked the
guy closest to her, whom she dubbed pipe guy. He looked so startled she actually fought
back, that the man barely had a chance to look scared before he was on the wet ground, with
a broken nose, and a throbbing arm.

Next was Wrench Guy, who looked at his two fallen companions in disbelief, especially since
he was the scrawnier of the lot. Brook used the pipe from the fallen fella as a weapon,
expertly hitting Wrench Guy behind the knees, then once above his head.

Oh! She hadn't had a good fight in months!

Her only sparring companions lately were the rusty and worn dummies at a small gym two
blocks from her school that let her work out for ten dollars a month. A good deal, all things
considered, but nothing like this.

Lastly, Baseball Bat Guy's terrified face was barely illuminated by the flickering yellow-
orange street light above her. His hold on the weapon was weak, and his terrified stance made
her cringe in disgust. Despite the multiple layers of black hoodies and a blue beanie of the
elusive basketball team, the Jets, she could tell he had blond hair, brown eyes, and incredibly
fair skin.

A Jets fan. This guy was just full of bad decisions.

Brook stalked over to the guy, like a deadly lion would a gazelle. She smirked when he
hesitated and took a step back. Her grin held when his voice wavered.

"Man, look! We got no beef with you, we just wanted some more cash"

Americans and their slang...

She considered letting the man go unharmed, but by his stance, she could tell he was thinking
of attacking her once she let her guard down. He seemed like the cowardly type, but either he
had a strong sense of vengeance for his fallen comrades, or he really wanted her money.

Thinking back to her lessons, she sprinted at him at full speed, dropping her weapon to jump
up to his ribs, snaking her legs around his arms, and shoulders, twisting her body enough that
he fell against the wet concrete with full force.

Smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles of her surprisingly still impeccable clothes, Brook
walked back and placed her beret, coat, and gloves back on, and calmly gathered her bag,
which was still patiently waiting for its owner where she left it.

Spying the glint of the dirty-silver gun by her feet, Brook made to get it, eager to end this
little delay. With all the trash cans around, disposing of the bodies wouldn't be an issue.

Then she stopped completely.

Sensing another presence in the shadows, she quickly turned around to face the guy she had
somehow missed. Seeing no one behind her, the girl scanned the alleyway before turning
upwards to look at the fire escapes.

Chyort voz'mi, Brook mentally cursed in Russian. Hell.

Brook was suddenly shocked to see a bright red and blue figure amongst the darkness up
above. One that had witnessed her take down multiple grown men.

Shit, had he seen her reach for the gun?

Just her luck, it was the superhero from Queens... What was his name? Spider-boy? Spider
hero?

"I thought I was going to have to take care of that" the hero said, his voice heavily altered,
likely by that fancy suit of his.

"Where did you learn how to fight like that?" he asked with boyish excitement, hanging
upside down the fire escape carelessly with a surprisingly strong string of web.

Though Brook could not see his features, she could tell his head was tilted slightly, and the
white eye-slots on his mask shrunk and widened with what must be reflections of his true
expressions as he waited for a reply. It was peculiar technology, and though outside her area
of expertise, the lenses of the suit's mask reminded Brooklyn of mechanisms of camera
shutters. Admittedly, it was impressive, but not something that could’ve been easy to create.
So either the hero behind the mask was a genius, or his sightings with Iron Man had
something to do with such leaps in technology.

That innocence in the masked expressions led her to ponder if perhaps this hero wasn't as old
as he looked on TV when he was fighting in that airport or on the unfamiliar streets of
Queens.

But who was she to judge his age?

Her life was weird, well....weird didn't even begin to cut it. But having an actual superhero
before her was an amazing sliver of luck…and unimaginable horror.

All she had to do is play it cool and he'd leave. She was supposed to be the victim here, it was
time she acted like it.

"I've learned a thing or two throughout my life, but I thank you for coming to my aid," she
said sweetly, and despite her own sense of distrust, for the sake of her performance Brooklyn
pulled a leather glove off to shake the hero's hand, which he gladly returned.

Oh...how people from her school would tremble with jealousy if they found out she shook
hands with a hero they worshiped like a saint. Too bad no one would ever know of this
unfortunate encounter.

"Sorry those guys bothered you. Do you live around here?" he asked, white eye-sockets
widening.
"Yeah, I go to school near here"

"Kids around here go to Townsend High right?" he asked.

Brook laughed, pulling her glove back on and motioning to the hanging ID card on her bag
"Adelphi Academy, it's further down from here"

How did he know High Schools nearby anyways?

The man's eyes widened in what others must perceive as an adorable gesture. He began
looking around the alley, quickly gathering the criminals with swift webs shooting out of his
wrists in a manner of seconds, effectively hanging them upside down in the air, web attached
to a fire-exit stair rail. Like a cluster of sardines bound by their hips.

Seemed like he would be taking care of them for her. Though this hero didn't know it, he'd
just saved their lives.

"That's cool," he said, giving her a childish thumbs up. Despite his respectable distance from
her, the masked hero suddenly cocked his head, sniffed at the air, and added, "Oh! You, like,
REALLY smell like coffee!"

Sniffing herself, Brooklyn found a small trace of the lingering scent of coffee grounds that
refused to leave her body since she began working. Even so, how could he....

"I have heightened senses," he explained.

Oh. Great. Another freak.

"I work at Central Grounds," Brooklyn said hesitantly, unsure if her ‘coffee scent’ was a good
first impression.

"It's a good thing you do. I smelled the coffee before I heard them" he pointed at the hanging
guys up above them, all unconscious, and likely having their pride pummeled more than their
actual bodies, "The coffee smell seemed so at odds with the odor most alleys have"

The girl chuckled at that, watching her breath come out in small puffs of warm air against the
cold breeze of the night.

Curiously, she inquired, "I thought you were Queen's superhero? What's got you all the way
over here in Brooklyn?"

The spandex hero rubbed the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture, pointing somewhere
north as he moved to hang from a nearby emergency ladder, "Mr. Stark needed me today"

Mr. Stark.

As in Tony Stark.

The Iron Man. The Avenger, and famed savior of New York.
Though Brook had no interest in heroes, she'd heard that the new Avengers facility was
somewhere in upstate New York, she just never went further than a few blocks from school to
bother figuring out where. Not that she'd care to find out.

Just the thought of being around more superheroes sent her stomach in a twist.

"Then I probably shouldn't keep you any longer. Wouldn't want Mr. Stark to blast me into
oblivion" Brook joked, smirking when the hero began fretting, stating his precious Mr. Stark
would never do such a thing.

Throwing a red-lipped smile and a single wave his way, she quickly bid goodbye to the spider
hero and made note to keep to more crowded streets from now on despite any future
sluggishness from exhaustion. She vaguely heard his voice reply as she exited the alley, and
noticing him swinging above her with a few unconscious men in tow, the glow from nearby
skyscrapers created a visible outline of their bodies for all to witness. While most people
stared in amazement, Brooklyn did her best to keep her face down, away from the scene
above.

Making her way along the busier comings and goings of 3rd St. filled with loud car honks,
street food smells that lingered and a, barely visible, full moon up in the sky. Clutching her
knitted scarf, Brook braced against a gust of wind with clenched teeth until she finally made
it to the cluster of buildings she was all too familiar with.

Her dark apartment street was always empty at this time of night. The cluster of buildings
themselves weren't as old as other structures in New York, in that manner she had been lucky.
But the apartments were rather small and still bore the scars of gang wars and the blood of
robbery victims that lacked the skills to save themselves as Brook just had.

Fumbling with her icy keys, she quickly unlocked the building door.

The teen frowned at the broken elevator sign still hanging on its metal doors. If functional, it
could have saved her the effort of climbing three floors of stairs. At this point, all hope of that
elevator being fixed was non-existent. Luckily, she didn't have her loft on the thirtieth floor
like poor Mrs. Miller.

Quickly making her way to the little metal mailboxes, she unlocked hers and found an
envelope from New Orleans and another that was just an electricity bill.

Once the exhausting trek up the cement stairs was over, Brook began lazily walking down the
hall to apartment 716, taking off her scarf and hat as she did. Now that she thought about it,
Brook admitted to herself that had also lucked out in terms of neighbors.

Americans were rowdy people; floors five and eight had constant parties going on throughout
the week. Her floor consisted of mostly elderly couples, and young ones who were just
expanding their families in the only place their jobs could afford.

Brook had earned a respectable enough reputation to be entrusted with watching their
children on date nights for a pretty penny, and was liked enough to be given Girl Scout
cookies to wash off the taste of greasy street food every now and then.
Had they known who she truly was, they likely would have banned together and kicked her
out of the building by now.

Of course, the only exception to the quiet trend in her floor was apartment 719, where a
cluster of college roommates lived. All of them were English, but they loved to play video
games on Sunday nights. Those were the days Brook was often asked to look after the
children.

Cowardly parents that they were.

Quickly unlocking her unique red door, whose paint was sadly chipping away at the ends, she
was greeted with her small sanctuary from the crazed city life.

Brooklyn quickly turned on the lights of her main room and sighed contentedly at the cozy
bed awaiting her soon.

Exhaustion often made this place seem more like a safe haven rather than the dump it was.
But there were some nice things about it, for instance, her living room had large cracked
windows that faced the distant port, while people on the other side of the building were
cursed with a dirty alley view. Looking out of it now, she smiled at the sight of distant boats,
their small lights flickering as if they talked to each other when they sailed by.

Though the outside view was great, her apartment didn't have too many things in it since she
was rarely there with school and work taking up most of her presence. Yet she had styled it to
fit her likes. Through some dumpster diving and gifted old furniture from her neighbors,
Brook had managed to brighten up her apartment these past years.

She had mountains of books stacked on small coffee tables and some piled on the wooden
mahogany floors all over the place. She had also attained a few personal trinkets scattered
around, like the glittering decathlon medals and appliance manuals that were resting above
her medieval fireplace, up on some shelves Brook barely managed to nail in herself.

By the front entrance Brook had just passed was her small bedroom, with dark-colored walls
she'd painted herself last year, and a bed Brooklyn had been gifted from the Stanleys' when
their son moved out. That had to be the most luxurious aspect of the room itself (the reason
she did not sleep on the floor anymore), yet the rest of her home had begun implementing
more comforting changes as well. Such as a new ancient rug of gold and red patterns in the
living room, plus the brown couch facing the large window that was more for comfort than
aesthetic.

Tonight though, there would be no time to ogle the city, or even process the crazy night she'd
had.

Brook had to finish a handful of homework and essays due by the end of the week, and that
meant staying up until she was done with at least half of that.

Setting her stuff down on the two-person table assigned for meals, Brook took out her books
and started up her retro-computer that was louder than a motorcycle engine. She set them on
 the white table cloth embroidered with small flowers and vines (another gift from her overly
friendly neighbors).

With her outer layers and hat on the coat rack by the door, wet sneakers and socks off, and
finally settling into some comfortable night clothes, Brook went through the bother of setting
up some music and preparing a kettle for tea, eagerly awaiting its ringing as she began her
work.

Even with the large pile of assignments, she couldn't help but glance out into the world every
now and then.

Outside, the lights of buildings on the other side of the lake made the darkened sky looked as
if it was filled with stars, and her work music might have tricked her mind into thinking them
more ethereal than they were.

It was also wild to think that somewhere out there, a hero was swinging from building to
building... one who'd been delusional enough to think Brook needed help.

What a crazy day, indeed.

Chapter End Notes

Hello readers, keep in mind that chapters 1-35 will be relatively short (from around
3000-6000 words each). After that, the chapters will get much longer and have multiple
POVs in each.

Things may seem like they are going slowly, but all this foundation is important for the
future of the story to make sense and for the pacing of the main character to work. Not
to mention, having two massive comic universes in one place contains a lot of important
foundations to make sense when mixed together.

Hope you like the story so far!

 The 'Kind' Offer

Brooklyn POV-

At the end of the week, after Friday classes ended and she'd been forced to take her
obligatory day off work so she could ‘rest’, Brook made her way back home at a reasonable
hour for once.

Surprisingly, it wasn't raining that day, so the school's light uniform wasn't that bothersome.

All in all, it had been a great day.

The school pep rally had been a bust, so she was able to go back to class early. She aced her
calculus test and found little to no ‘pedestrian traffic’ on the way back to her flat.

With a skip in her step, Brook tapped the beat of her music against the unnecessarily large
cluster of books in hand. To further improve her mood, she'd also bought some food after
school, and the marvelous scent of her Defonte's sandwiches was already making her mouth
water in anticipation.

Once she was back in her designated street block, a few of the residents of her building were
exiting the place, likely going out to eat across the bridge. She couldn't help but wonder
which of those families inside the building had gotten the fancy car Brook had seen out in the
parking lot on her way over.

Maybe one of the neighbors from the tenth floor? They seemed to have quite a bit of money,
at least enough to brave wearing golden watches and silk shirts.

But that had been a bright yellow Audi R8. Even those brats couldn't afford that right?

Then again, this was the city of Brooklyn. Someone could have easily stolen it.

When the teen finally opened the door to her flat with a content sigh. Brook decided she'd
admire the beautiful car further from the comfort of her couch, no matter whose it was. It was
a rare sight of beauty, and luckily, the window of her living room had a perfect view of the
parking lot down below.

That was the plan for the afternoon then. Sandwiches. Couch. Audi.

Still singing along to the upbeat song, Brook practically threw her ebony school blazer on the
rack, and with perhaps too much enthusiasm. She threw her bag and stray books atop the bed
on her way to change into a simple black dress, still swaying her hips to the music blasting
from her headphones.

The only object of hers Brook actually bothered to be careful with were her heavenly
sandwiches. Things sent from up above should be treated with care after all, even when she
wasn't the kind to believe in places like heaven.
Eyes glued to her music player as she exited the bedroom, Brook set her carefully wrapped
food on a plastic plate, wiped her lipstick off with a complementary napkin, and happily
made her way to the beautifully worn-out couch for some 'me time'.

Then, upon finally looking up from her device, she dropped it and the plate of heavenly food
like they were nothing.

She did so only because a person was lazily lounging on her couch, only his short brown hair
was visible until he suddenly turned to face her, tilting his yellow shades down with a smirk.

"Hello there," he said simply.

Neveroyatno, she yelled in her head. Unbelievable.

Brooklyn felt like her heart had stopped, or was perhaps beating so quickly that it felt like
nothing. She wasn't even breathing in air properly to think about getting a weapon.

What the fuck was Tony Stark doing in her apartment!?

She was speechless, the only sound being that of her quiet music filling the tense space from
the headphones discarded on the floor, but even Lola Blanc would be of little moral support
here.

What was HE doing in HER apartment in the middle of nowhere-important-New-York.

There could be several answers to that particular question, Brook realized.

The Avengers could have found out about her 'vigilante' work these past few years, and Mr.
Stark could very well be here to arrest her. Or maybe he would arrest Brooklyn for her past
alone. Both of those were the best-case scenarios, and the most unlikely since the Avengers
likely didn't deal with simple police work.

Brooklyn needed to get out now. Not just away from her apartment, but out of the city.

Luckily, she had an emergency bag for quick escapes behind her coat rack. Brook could grab
it and make a run for it before Iron Man could realize, right?

Said man began laughing, standing up from the couch with one of her mugs in hand. It just so
happened to be her favorite mug.

That bastard.

"Hold your horses, Daphne. I come in peace" he said, raising both hands in the air, still
clutching her Cookie Monster mug. Not looking the least bit bashful for addressing her as a
member of the Scooby-Doo gang, though perhaps that was better than him knowing her real
name.

Escaping would be useless, Brook realized.

THIS WAS IRON MAN FOR GOD'S SAKE!

Who knew how many SHIELD agents were currently surrounding her building anyway.
Perhaps even the cops were here at the ready to fire as well.

There weren't enough curse words in any language for Brook to properly express how
panicked she was. Yet she tried to seem casual, making her way to the dinner table in the
middle of the room with ease. An act she hoped looked convincing enough to bring his guard
down.

"I would ask how you broke into my home, but seeing as you're the famous Tony Stark, that
doesn't seem like the most important question to ask at the moment"

The billionaire smiled, settling down on the arm of her couch.

"Smart girl" he mused, "Hope you don't mind, I made myself at home with a cup of coffee.
I've been waiting for a while"

Of course, she did mind. He's the last person in this world she wanted to see... well maybe the
second to last.

Brook smiled back, a calculated expression.

"Do I wanna know why the great Tony Stark is in my humble abode?"

Mr. Stark didn't bother answering her question, he just looked around the room. As a
billionaire, he was likely noticing the poor aspects of her home. Chipped paint. Worn
furniture. This was likely the last place he wanted to be in, and it was the last place Brook
wanted him present at.

It occurred to her then that the stupid Spiderling probably told on her! It had been a few days
since that particular encounter, and she'd completely forgotten about it. The childish man
behind the mask had likely seen her reach for the gun, he'd known she’d been planning to kill
those men and asked Mr. Stark to handle the situation.

If she wasn't incarcerated for life or killed, she'd hunt him down and make that hero suffer for
this. Preferably with a long and painful death.

"You live here alone?" the man suddenly asked, turning his intense gaze back onto her.

She noted the healing bruises on his face and the worn look in his eyes. From her place
sitting at the table, Brook could tell this man hadn't slept for a while, and then there was the
way he moved his left leg around in discomfort, signifying a possible injury.

"My parents are currently in New Orleans" Brook stated casually, careful with the
information she relented. Bits of truths and lies woven together would be her salvation in this
case.

Unfortunately, this man had done his research.

"Yes, but they don't live here. What’s a sixteen-year-old like you doing living alone in this
small apartment? This isn't a very nice neighborhood"
She scoffed, "Not all of us can afford luxurious mansions, Richie Rich"

Her comment seemed to startle him. Likely because not many people would dare insult the
great Iron Man.

But he'd called her Daphne earlier. Stark earned the nickname just for that alone.

"Not even a photo of dear old mom and dad though? Are Mr. and Mrs. Jones that ok with
leaving their daughter here alone to fend for herself?" Stark asked, with air quotations as he
mentioned her parents.

Ok, she felt that jab. It was currently piercing her chest far more painfully than she'd
anticipated.

That was until Brook processed his words, narrowing her eyes.

"How do you know my parents?"

The man's confident smirk returned. He set the mug down on the small side table and crossed
his arms over his chest, not at all concerned with possibly wrinkling his clearly expensive
onyx suit.

"As of four days ago, I know everything about them, but they were boring. You on the other
hand were far more interesting"

Mr. Stark reached behind him to the place he'd been sitting at before, revealing a manila
folder now in hand with two separate files inside.

When he waved it around, Brook's heart stopped.

That symbol stamped on it. A black eagle.

Familiar memories of her childhood flashed before her eyes, remembering the same symbol
on clothing and cars, from that time long ago that she wished to forget.

S.H.I.E.L.D.

"You are quite interesting,- Miss Jones," he said, slowly opening the folder and flipping
through the pages without taking his eyes off her.

From memory, he recited, "Brooklyn Rosa Jones. Born November 20th, 2001, in Russia.
Adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Hughes-Jones in 2008."

Of course, people like SHIELD had a file on her. This was just great.

"And?" she asked, trying not to seem too eager to know just how much he knew.

The man smirked, "See that's where this gets…a little nutty. SHIELD doesn't have files on
many kids, much less, files that have two-thirds of the information blacked out and only
accessible by level 10 agents. When my dear friend, Nick Fury, refused to answer my request
for more information, I decided to do a little digging on my own"

Shit. She was so screwed.

Pulling out another folder from the couch, this one plain black, the man read with feigned
shock.

"It says here you were raised in the Red Room, a place for assassins in training. Agent
Romanoff rescued you during Operation Eagle Claw back in...oh, what looks like…07'. They
also look to have added a few things from the recovered files from the Red Room base about
you"

Brooklyn's palms were sweating profusely at this point. The suspense of finding out what he
knew was killing her.

Now with that excited tone, the man read, "The files don't state your birth parents, only your
skills. No medical work that I could find either. Though it is quite fascinating to find you
speak eight languages, what kid your age could claim that!?"

Brook shrugged, "The Red Room provided me with a thorough education"

"Clearly! This file claims you were trained in judo, karate, boxing, aikido, and acrobatics. It
also says that you're above average in marksmanship and sharpshooting. Decent hacker,
trained assassin, and enough espionage training to consider yourself a toddler James Bond"

It was as if he'd stripped her whole life bare. Brook had only seen her Red Room file once,
and even though that one had more information, some of it was still crossed out.

There was too much she didn't want Tony Stark to know...

He flipped through the next folder with a chuckle, showing her the words she could not read
at this distance, but she did recognize the photos in the file. A chill went down her spine
when she realized the photos before her were recent. One was Brooklyn’s school ID, with her
black and white uniform and tired face from waiting in line too long. The other was some sort
of security-feed image of her walking down a street nearby her apartment complex.

Had SHIELD really been keeping an eye on her all this time? Brook assumed they'd all
forgotten about her the day they handed her over to the Hughes-Jones family.

Clearly, she had been wrong.

"So?" Brooklyn said, trying to sound confident, "Are you planning on killing me then? You
realize looking into my files, not to mention breaking into my apartment is a privacy breach,
right? I know my rights"

The man walked over to the table, sitting down on the empty chair across from the one she
had numbly settled on at some point. He slid both folders to her, and Brook barely had the
good sense to catch them, eyeing the eagle symbol with unease.
"Of course I'm not going to kill you. Spider-man spoke so highly of you, how could I do that
to him?"

He was dead. That clown in a costume had just officially signed off on his death warrant.
He'd swung his last web, ever.

"He mentioned a small teenage girl beat up a few men with ease. A seemingly innocent girl
that works at a nearby Cafe & Diner and attends a fancy private school her family’s salary
clearly can’t afford"

Sorting through the files with her index finger, Brooklyn kept her gaze on them as page by
page, they were spread around the bumpy surface of her table.

With enough creativity and effort, she could try to kill Mr. Stark with just those objects.
Either the paper or perhaps the table.

"So you went digging through the dirt of my past. Why?"

Suddenly, one of his fingers stopped the sorting files as he tapped the SHIELD symbol on the
black folder containing her Red Room flies, the one she'd gladly ignored thus far.

"It was an impressive fight from what I was told, and from what I saw"

Mr. Stark then took out a clear-screened phone that projected a bright blue hologram between
them from where he set it in the middle of the worn table. Brooklyn knew that dark alley. The
screen displayed her fight with the thieves from up above, likely from one of the apartments
with higher security. It was, fortunately, not the highest quality footage, but with enough
zoom, her face was unmistakable.

Had she been in the innocent flow of New York so long that she'd become careless? The Red
Room would have likely beaten her to death over mistakes committed over the past few days.

Brooklyn fought the urge to scream as she stated, "If you think I'm some sort of bad guy, I'm
not. They tried to rob me"

The billionaire only smiled at the images on the phone, replying calmly, "I know you aren't,
but you are a curious little thing"

"And do you search into every curious little thing you meet?" she snapped back.

He just smirked lazily, tapping his foot to the beat of her forgotten music on the floor as he
switched the video to a much older feed. One she also, unfortunately, recognized.

It was from the battle of New York.

It showed a little girl killing her way through aliens, heavily drenched in their blue blood. She
was shown using discarded umbrellas, abandoned police firearms, and even some of the
alien's own tech against them. In the camera feed, from what was possibly a grocery store,
the little girl got stabbed in the thigh, and Brook fought the instinct to trace the small scar that
decorated that same spot on her own leg.
In some shots, she was nothing but a small body with a head full of red hair running around
with worn-out clothes of faded colors, and enough grime and gore that almost made
Brooklyn want to gag in remembrance.

Those had been some of the least pleasant hours of her life, and even when she looked up at
the outline of Iron Man going through a portal in the sky, her younger self had not relaxed
one bit.

"Most curious little things, Miss Jones, are not nearly this fascinating. This particular footage
from your file is proof enough of that" he replied with confidence, turning off the phone and
stuffing it into a pocket inside his vest as he leaned back into the chair as if he owned it.

That bastard.

"So? Am I in trouble? Because that fight in the alley was self-defense, and the aliens were
trying to turn me into a new paint job for the streets"

Mr. Stark nodded in agreement, something she hadn't expected from him.

If he wasn't here to kill her, then why bother? Unless he knew more than he was supposed to.
Had he figured out the contents hidden in her many files?

When Brooklyn saw him trace the outline of his watch, which looked Stark-made, she
quickly reached under the table and pulled out her Glock 19, already loaded and ready to fire.
Pointing it right at the man's forehead, Brook willed her hands to stay steady, a stupid
reaction considering she'd killed many with this particular weapon (and the other eight she
had scattered around her apartment).

There was a reason her place looked like crap after all these years, most of her money went
towards security and escape supplies. In her defense, those were Red Room habits.

It’s not like she was paranoid they'd come after her or anything.

Brook had expected Mr. Stark to panic or, given who he was, maybe he would have shot her
into oblivion with one of the many high-tech weapons she was sure he currently possessed.

Instead, he simply raised his hands up in feigned surrender with a slight frown, his brown
eyes never leaving hers.

"Easy there, John Wick. I just have a few digital files to pull up" he said.

Brook didn't detect any sign of obvious lies with that Red Room training he'd reminded her
she possessed. Stark didn't seem all that bothered with having a gun pointed at his head. If all
she'd seen on the news about this man was true, perhaps that fear had been scared out of him
ages ago.

That didn't mean Brooklyn was planning on lowering her weapon, she just gestured with the
gun for him to go ahead and pull up the information.
Very slowly, the surface of her table lit up blue, and digital files were scattered along it like
the real paper files underneath. After sweeping the other files off the table so she could
maneuver the new ones better (while keeping one hand on her gun), Brook summoned the
closest to her with a swipe of her finger.

Well, this was not at all what she was expecting...

The file showed diagrams of weapons and missiles. None were models she was familiar with,
which was odd since she took great care to know what was popular nowadays. These
weapons had some odd mechanics, powered by a strange source. The distance and impact
ranges shown were impossible for weapons of that size.

With one of those odd-looking rifles, Book could shoot a pinecone sitting on a floating turtle
on the other side of the Brooklyn bridge. Hell, she could make a decent kill all the way to
Manhattan. They could be used to do some impressive things…deadly, world-ending things.

Diagrams for the missiles weren't much better. Those things could blow up said Manhattan
island even when they were the size of a Wii remote.

"What is this? Secret government work?" Brook asked, bringing another file closer to analyze
the weapons better. Her interest had peaked.

"Not from the government, kid," Tony said with an exhausted sigh, "These are running
through black markets and distributed to gang groups all across the country, maybe even the
world."

Watching a silent video of one of those weapons at work, Brook noticed something that was
finally familiar. She remembered it thanks to the feed of the battle of New York from earlier.

These were alien weapons, the beams of light emitted from their fired shots were the same as
those the Chitauri had used. The skeleton of the weapons appeared different…more human.

"I heard there was a court trial recently for a man who stole government property. Used it to
make weapons and tried to use it to make himself filthy rich" she said, finally setting her gun
down as she eagerly pulled over all the projected files.

"Adrian Toomes" Stark confirmed, tapping a file of the man to her right.

The criminal looked worn and tired, not at all what you'd expect from a crazy villain after
having someone like Loki in New York.

Still, his report provided enough information for his motives. All business and revenge.

"He tried to steal from you?" Brook asked with a smirk, "He certainly had guts, I'll give him
that. But it says here he's rotting in jail."

Flicking his watch screen, another digital file slid her way. This one showed other men with
similar weapons, gang wars, and even an explosion near a small town.

Dubai. It was labeled as Dubai.

Brook recalled the newspaper from a few nights ago at work. Something about the Avengers
preventing chaos there.

Had it been related to these weapons?

"How can a man in prison be running this circus show?" she asked.

Stark sighed again, turning to stare out the window behind him, eyeing the city beyond.

"It's not him that's doing it. When the public found out about what this guy was able to pull
off, others wanted in on the business. Mr. Toomes actually feels rather guilty about the whole
thing, gave us the names of his buyers and other interested parties, but even with that
information, these things keep spreading. Looks like there was a lot more space crap being
hoarded by others than we thought"

She remembered hearing once in passing that Stark Industries had something to do with the
collecting of alien-related tech after the battle of New York.

Clearly, the people in charge of that particular decision were idiots.

"Just because I have a gun in my house doesn't mean I own this space junk. The last thing I
want are things that remind me of that day around."

At last, the man turned back to her, pressing a button on his watch that made all the files and
the blue glow they gave off to disappear.

"I'm actually here to ask for a favor or rather, help guide your future. You're welcome" he
said, motioning around her main room.

"What do you mean, my future?" she asked, suddenly offended he'd think so little of her
simple life. Even if her life did suck, he had no business stating it.

Intertwining his hands, Stark leaned forward against the table, his gaze confident as he spoke
the stupidest words she'd ever heard.

"You're a skilled individual in SHIELD's possible threat files. Wouldn't it be better to use
those skills to help stop a few troublemakers? It's what you were doing a few days ago
anyway, but now you could do it as one of the official good guys"

Brooklyn tried, she really did try to keep her laughter in. But in seconds, she was doubling
back against her chair, staring upwards at her ceiling with tears in her eyes.

This HAD to be some sort of joke!

Her! An American agent!

The universe had to be messing with her, she'd escaped a life of sabotage for a normal one
and now, this man, wanted her to return to it? What an absolute joke!
It took a little longer than expected for the teen to regain her composure, all the while Mr.
Stark stared at her with a confused look that almost sent her into another laughing fit.

"I'm not sure I’m…the right fit to apply for such things, being a trained assassin and all," she
said, gesturing to the gun beside her rather carelessly.

"No need for applying. Consider your application sent and approved by me" he said, standing
up and making his way to her couch, careful of that injured leg. Then he called over his
shoulder, "But you won't work in those boring SHIELD offices, but under the Avengers
Program instead."

That shot Brook out of her chair and tumbling back into the kitchen counter. Once again, her
breath was coming out in labored puffs, and the sinking feeling in her stomach barely
overpowered the stream of curses she wanted to let out.

"Are you insane!? You want me, someone with a dripping ledger, to be an Avenger!?" she
groaned impatiently.

Seeming almost amused by her reaction, the man settled down back at the table. A new white
folder in his hand that was encased in some sort of laminated cover, with the unmistakable
Avengers symbol stamped on the front... along with her name.

"Not an official Avenger, but consider yourself maybe as a baby Avenger. One with training
wheels" he replied, setting the folder down he tiredly ran his hands through his styled brown
hair, then he explained, "I've been thinking a lot about the next generation of heroes. Legacy
and all that. It seems only fit we start bringing in individuals now so us current Avengers can
retire early"

This WAS some sort of farce. Next generation?

If this man knew that her life's mission had once been to take over the world in a Russian
conquest, he wouldn't be throwing offers like that around in this apartment.

"I'm sure there are people more qualified than me. I don't have super strength, a magic
hammer, or anything useful to be an Avenger. You should look somewhere else, maybe you
could make a special tinder for Avenger-quality people to find. Hell, aren't there mutants all
over the world? Pick someone from that gene pool instead!"

Brook was unnerved by the man before her suddenly turning serious in a way he hadn’t done
during their whole interaction. This was the true man beneath all that arrogance and vibrato.
Pointing at himself, the man stated, "Well, that Mutant Registration Act is kinda messing
with everything nowadays. Besides, not all heroes have special skills. I'm just a man in a can,
as human and normal as you are"

Brooklyn scoffed, "You're a billionaire with an incredible mind. I'm sure you make up for it"

"You may be right. Maybe we should hold a lovely job interview session for the thousands of
people out there in the world that want to become shiny new heroes" Tony said sarcastically,
"But we don't have time for that with this threat at hand. I need people who are already
trained to defend themselves and can get the job done. You fit those categories, and by the
fates of the universe, I stumbled upon your name"

She couldn't do this.

Today was supposed to be a relaxing day. Now Brook stood before a man she'd never wanted
to meet, and he was suddenly offering her a position as a baby Avenger?

Brooklyn knew who she was. She'd been a Black Widow in training, one of Ivan's future
elites, and whether she liked it or not, she'd been turned into a monster that could NEVER be
seen as a hero. Stark on the other hand was a renowned Avenger, who had saved the world on
multiple occasions. They came from different worlds. One’s that should never have met for
more than just those reasons alone…much more than she cared to ponder on at the moment.

The look on Stark’s face showed that he wasn’t going to ask nicely again. He could drag her
out of here in chains if he wanted and no one would stop him if he did. Stark held all the
power here, leaving Brook with few options...

The odds were not in her favor, that much was clear… but Brooklyn refused to be thrown
back into some training facility, a place where she’d be handed a weapon and expected to
follow orders no matter the rivers of blood that trailed behind her like chains. It didn’t matter
if they wanted to give her the elegant title of hero, Brook could accurately guess she’d fall
back onto what her life had been like as a child once more if she agreed to Stark’s terms.

That was a life she did not wish to return to. She wouldn't be beaten and punished day and
night, forced to kill for 'the good of the world'. Brook had had enough of that as a child. Since
then, she'd claimed life as her own, and promised herself that being under the command of
others would never happen again. That part of her past was behind her, for good.

Suddenly grateful the fear of death was taken away from her at the age of four, Brook set her
shoulders before taking a running start towards the large window on the other side of the
room. Despite Stark's shout to stop, Brooklyn grabbed a side table and, using her body’s
twisting momentum, swung it at the already worn cracked glass. It shattered. She sailed
through the broken opening into the night.

From this height, she'd hit the concrete below with enough force to kill her, and, fortunately,
too quickly for the tin can to catch her with his suit, armor so many looked upon in hopes of
being rescued. So, as the glass sprinkled around her, gravity tugging it along with her towards
the ground, Brooklyn smiled.

Satisfied, with no attachments left in this world, Brooklyn embraced the promise of nothing.

Without warning a force gripped onto her shirt, stopping her from falling to her death. She
began ascending back in the direction she'd jumped from. In a manner of confused seconds,
Brook was hanging from the side of her building, in a secure hold.

It took a few seconds for her to realize the red fabric before her wasn't the red and gold metal
she'd expected from Iron Man’s armor. Brook put her arms around the figure’s neck to more
firmly brace herself from the abyss of ground more than thirty feet below, and examine who
held her.

A familiar mask with mechanical eyes greeted her.

Those white eyes narrowed down at her, and that gentle but deep robotic voice said, "Hi
again! Be careful, you almost fell!"

The Spiderling...

Just as Brook began choking the life out of the man that held her, a suit came flying out her
window above them, and the Iron man suit stopped before the pair, shooting gas out of an
open arm piece towards her.

Brook immediately recognized the substance. Chloroform.

She tried to squirm away from it or move her arms to block her nose, but it was no use...

As predicted, Brooklyn began to pass out in the superhero's arms, screaming nothing but
threats of death inside her head.

Her last thought had been quick but definite.

She'd get that damn spider.

It was official now, he'd yee'd his last haw.

 The Tale of Ivan's Girls
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV (nine years ago)-

Brooklyn had been born and raised in the Red Room, and there had been nothing else before
that.

In simple terms, the Red Room was a Russian training facility that was created to produce
highly specialized spies of high caliber and worth, such as the famous Black Widows known
and respected in the ‘underground’ empire of assassins for hundreds of years.

Deadly, precise, and unfeeling.

For centuries, the Red Room Academy was disguised as a Russian boarding school located in
the Maryina Horka Forest in Belarus; made for poor orphans to live better lives. It was a
place that was known to produce the most refined ballerinas as well. Russia’s pride.

That's how the outside world saw it at least, but if you were to ask a member of the Red
Room what they stood for, they would say the same thing they'd been taught since they could
talk.

The Red Room was a school for the strongest girls, the ones that would shape the new future
for Russia.

It was true that Brook was an orphan, but she'd originally been told her parents traded her for
money at birth to settle debts. A harsh truth, but one she had learned to live with.

However, this was a lie.

When Brooklyn turned five she snuck into the guarded archives room in order to read her file
and discover the identities of her birth parents so she could seek her vengeance on them for
abandoning her after she graduated. Maybe there were other emotions she was supposed to
feel towards those who gave birth to her, but in the Red Room, she was only taught death.

Brook had less than three minutes to fully examine and memorize the contents of her file.
Most of the information was crossed out or missing, however she was able to discover the
identity of her birth mother.

Red Room agent, 90170, one of the few Black Widows who were not only active in the field
but also instructed and disciplined the trainees like Brooklyn. She was known as one of the
more ruthless instructors, but Brook had known then and there that confronting the woman
about this would only mean death.
There was no mention of her birth father.

It was obvious since then that she had been lied to by the same organization she’d been
devoted to all her life. Her given identity up to this point meant nothing, just like her life.

In the Red Room, you didn’t have a name, just an agent number, like the one stated in her
own file. 10452.

That’s who she was. 10452. Even as her mind raced with questions, agent 10452 knew there
had been nothing before the Red Room to cling onto and there was nothing in her future to
hope for. This new information changed nothing.

By the time Brook turned six, her progress in the program was showing promising results.
Most kids didn't live past their fifth year, but Book hadn't just survived, she'd thrived. Most of
the instructors often told her that she'd be the next great Black Widow. One that would not
fail like her unspoken predecessor.

At the time, that was a good thing, being flawless meant not getting killed.

That had been the status quo until after Brook turned six, when she'd been summoned to
Ivan's office out of the blue.

Brook had just come from hours of ballet refining, her feet were bloody and sore but she
walked with poise and grace to Ivan’s office. A man she’d been lucky enough never to be
summoned by prior to that day. Not a good sign.

She made her way through the dark hallways, following the ballet instructor who'd whipped
her on more than one occasion the past week despite her exceptional performances.
Punishments to reinforce perfection. Even if they were unpleasant, she'd rather be whipped
again, right then and there, than to follow the path of that dark hallway.

It was widely known that being summoned by the head of the Black Widow program was
never seen as a good sign. From what she'd heard in passing, that usually meant Brook had
failed in one of her duties and was minutes from being killed, or this was something worse.
She'd wracked her brain for a possible offense.

She'd been careful not to let her stoic mask falter. Hadn't been caught sneaking to see her file
last year. All her bullets had been on target. Her training all around had been flawless as was
expected.

Walking along the bunker-like space, Brook tried to focus on something else other than her
all-consuming dread like the flickering dirty yellow lights above her, counting them as a way
to ease her stress. She tried to imagine the light above her belonged to the sun. Of course, she
assumed that's what it looked like since she'd never actually been outside.

With no windows in the training base, Brook could only guess what a sunrise or sunset
looked like.
Her method of distraction barely worked. She was still marching to her doom, any other form
of punishment was better than this.

By the time they reached a large metal door, she was given no time to collect herself before
being pushed roughly through the doorway and onto the carpeted floor.

Inside, two familiar faces stood behind the menacing presence of Ivan, who leisurely sat
behind a large mahogany desk lounging back in a chair, which he used like a throne.

A king holding court.

The two ‘guards’ flanking him belonged to the women who were her lifelong instructors in
the art of espionage and murder. One of them was 90170, her secret mother. It had often
baffled Brook that none of the other girls figured out the family resemblance. Same auburn
hair, fair skin, and sharp features. Maybe it was the eyes?

90170 had cold jade eyes, while Brook had warm brown ones, undoubtedly a trait inherited
from her unknown father.

"10452, step forward" Ivan commanded, using English today instead of Russian, a typical
tactic used in the Red Room in order to train the girls to be fluent in many languages. But in
this instance it wasn’t just to test her skills, it was likely also used as an intimidation tactic.
The man leaned forward on his desk, shooting the child a grin that sent a shudder through
her; one that she did her best to hide from those present.

Those before her were vital organs of the Red Room’s deadly body, and none of them were
known for accepting any kind of weakness.

Ignoring the light sweat beading on her forehead, Brook did as she was told, then stood still
in parade rest until he gave her permission to be at ease. From this close, the man smelt of
cigar smoke and spearmint, and his deep gray eyes stared into her own with the same
uncomfortable frost of a winter night.

Brook felt the weight of the domineering pressure Ivan exuded bearing down on her, yet it
was at this nearness that she could see all the small imperfections on his skin not many had
the honor of beholding. This man had flaws, and yet he was still irreproachable.

"You must be wondering why you're here, malyshka" he asked with amusement dripping
from his tone, folding his calloused hands on the table.

Ivan was the law here, their Saint, King, and God of Death.

Brook had never come across Ivan in person, not many had, aside from seeing his menacing
shadow overlooking training from time to time. He was like a shadow of death who
intentionally made himself scarce as a tactic to strike fear into their hearts, perhaps to let their
imaginations run wild and perceive him as a bigger threat and danger than he was. Creating
the image of a god from a mere man. Even as the thought crossed her mind, the young girl
knew that was all just a bit of wishful thinking to try and call her nerves.
If his top spies were anything like her mother and the famed Natalia Romanova, she figured
that in his presence, lies would only be like courting death. Then again, sounding unprepared
could also be met with punishment, and the decision alone of this seemingly simple answer
was enough to make her heart beat faster than it had ever dared.

An unfamiliar feeling she rarely allowed to take hold of her. Fear.

Whatever was in store for her, it most likely wouldn’t be pleasant if she was summoned here.
Ivan knew how to kill someone a hundred different ways, and he could probably do it
ensuring the victim would remain at the cruel edge of death for as long as he willed it.

Deciding that lying wasn’t an additional crime she was willing to suffer for, the young girl
knew she couldn’t trust her voice yet so she simply shook her head in response, bending into
a bow afterward.

"You are becoming an accomplished little spider. In time, we will refine you to become the
best so that you may fulfill your destiny"

Destiny...

That was the day she'd found out all she ever wondered about. The thoughts that kept her up
at night were finally silenced. It just wasn't what she expected to hear.

Ivan casually revealed that 90170 was her birth mother, perhaps too casually. Regardless, the
girl kept her face blank at the news, as she had been taught. Still, her mind swirled with
troubling doubts. It was possible Ivan had known about her adventure last year sneaking into
the file room. It was just like him to feign he was unaware of such things as a way to either
teach her a lesson, scare her, or to enhance her training. It didn’t matter which of those was
the true reason. One day, the little spider might very well be punished for it, it just wouldn't
be today.

What came next...the shock of that was genuine. The girl’s face twitched before she was able
to turn it to blankness.

She'd been born with a purpose, an extension of her mother's first mission. A goal so
important, her progress had been more closely monitored than that of her sestras (sisters). It
was no wonder she'd received more punishments than the others some days. It was also a sort
of relief knowing she wasn't imagining things when instructors were pushing her harder than
the others.

Agent 90170, her mother, was tasked with coupling with a man of great power whose life
would help the Red Room thrive. Killing him would do them no good, the only way to gain
both his wealth but also the artillery he possessed would be through more complex means.

The widows were taught to play the long game, to let venom coarse through their victims'
veins. This was Brooklyn’s purpose, to be Ivan’s venom, and infect this man…her father.

Her sperm donor was described to Brook as nothing more than a brainless man who often
discarded responsibilities, one without purpose or importance to humanity, and to the Red
Room’s luck, viewed women for his own pleasure and then discarded them without a second
thought. The young girl was taught all about reproduction at age five, that was enough to get
the picture of what that first part of the mission entailed. But the dreadful man was also
described as a being of great wealth. This is what made him useful, a part of a great mission.

Agent 90170 was successful in her mission, able to get pregnant while keeping the man
oblivious.

By Ivan’s orders, when the young girl graduated, it would be her mission to enter his life.
Reveal herself as his daughter, and become the future inheritor of what he owned and all its
benefits. Then, when the time was right, the little spider would use all her skills to kill her
father in a way that could never be traced back to her.

"You will hand me the first key to controlling the world" Ivan commanded, "In return, you
will inherit my kingdom, malyshka"

For the first time in her life, the thought of killing someone made her hesitate.

Despite being among the best in the Red Room, something about her training had always
bothered her. At times, the hurting, killing, it made her despondent...not that she could ever
display such emotions. It was a weakness so strong that Brook often hated herself for it.

Only her pillow had been witness to her tears late at night when she ended up taking the life
of someone she'd grown up with. None of those corpses had been people she should mourn,
they were not her friends (as people in the outside world bothered having), but competition,
stepping stones to her victory. Any of those girls whose blood was on her hands would've
killed Brook without a second thought just for the chance to live a little longer.

So why did she feel so...discontent sometimes about their deaths? Why was the thought of
killing her father equally as melancholic?

Unexpectedly, as the sixth year of her life went by, she'd grown to despise her life, thoughts
no Widow should be thinking constantly flooding her mind. And it was all thanks to the
knowledge of her pathetic father that shouldn't be anything but a target to destroy.

Knowing that in the future, should she not die, she'd inherit all this...

It was one thing to receive orders to kill, but another one entirely to be giving those orders
yourself. Often, her dreams would plague her with images of Brook as Ivan, a future that
looked less and less appealing as the months and years went by.

Maybe the man whose genetics she shared WAS a man with no honor or worth, but since the
first time Brook found out she was not an orphan, that there was someone out there who
was...what was that word again…family? Someone out there tied to her that was more than
competition or an instructor. Knowing that maybe she could have a family, an abstract dream
that the girl wasn’t even sure she understood…it somehow made focusing on kills a little
harder, made the silent tears run a little longer.
Still, she tried to be obedient, unwavering in her decision to carry out the mission and the
fulfill honor bestowed upon her by Ivan.

At night, she'd have dreams of a faceless man murdered by her own hands. Sometimes, she'd
imagine him with her light-brown eyes, wondering if that was the only trait they shared.

Would that distant father give her a name in due time? Or would the Red Room provide one
for her?

Aside from all that useless wondering, the only exciting part of her life was that for the next
few months, she spent them learning about the outside world. All about cultures and norms
she'd have to follow to fit in. Most of it was rather stupid, but interesting nonetheless. There
was such a large world out there filled with wondrous things Brooklyn's mind couldn't even
begin to imagine. But there was some stuff she learned about that made her hesitant to leave
Russia.

During her training sessions, or even when she was strapped to a metal table with medication
flowing onto her system. Amidst the pain, thoughts of large skyscrapers haunted her
thoughts. Images of corrupt leaders, impoverished people left to starve, wars, and destruction
on a worldwide scale.

The longer her education went, the more she grew to resent, but also long, for the outside
world.

Going out there would lead Brook to her father, who may love her as his own, unlike the
mother who spent her days training her daughter harder with no sign of fondness. In those
lessons of the world, she had learned that parents were supposed to love and cherish their
children, apparently, that was the way the outside world worked. So why was she not given
that life?

Even if her father was never brought up again since that meeting with Ivan, Brook had been
curious about what he could be doing during the passing days. What country was he in? Did
he have a family?

It wouldn't matter anyway.

The Red Room had commanded her to kill him, getting attached would be a waste of energy.

Brook was supposed to feel nothing but loyalty to her master, Ivan. Her fear had been beaten
out of her long ago, and love had never been allowed to exist in her soul.

She was a deadly spider. An unwavering Black Widow.

So Brook continued to do as she was told. Killing any sestra that stood in her way, imagining
their faces as her father's in an effort to make the future kill easier. Someone with her brown
eyes, the rest she could not conjure an image of, so she left it blank.

Luckily, that day never came.

It was a normal day at the shooting range on the seventh year of her miserable existence,
taking aim at human dummies instead of real bodies for once.

Brook had been doing well, only earning a fractured finger when she missed a vital artery by
an inch. As far as punishments went, that was quite merciful. Brooklyn knew it wasn't an act
of kindness, the Red Room had visitors from two other assassin organizations coming that
day. No one would dare mess up the Academy's reputation with the undignified sounds of
blubbering children as they begged for mercy.

On the other hand, the blonde girl next to Brook had missed enough times that her left hand
was rendered useless, but that was still merciful. Cadet 17821 had been killed for that same
offense last week, and the blonde girl knew it too.

She'd surely die due to this lapse and subsequent punishment in three days' time, when
sparring day came. Perhaps it would be Brook's own arms that would suffocate the air out of
her lungs.

With her reputation as 'Ivan's favorite', most young girls knew putting up a good fight would
be useless. But they always fought with everything they had, if only for the honor of stealing
that spot as his favorite from her. Brook had to be alert at all times, especially recently since
cadet 13472 had tried to kill her in her sleep two nights ago. Even handcuffed to her bed, the
girl had put up an impressive fight...until Brook fractured her cuffed hand and choked the
other girl with her legs.

Maybe having the blonde girl next to her die would be a benefit after all. She had slept beside
Brook since they were babes, so it would only be a matter of time before she decided to kill
Brooklyn.

Brook was getting ready to reload her gun when a large explosion shook the room, the sound
was unlike that of a fired gun. Even the lights above flickered slightly from the tremor caused
by the explosion.

Another explosion. Then Screams.

Their handful of instructors motioned for them to stop their rounds, looking at one another as
if trying to wage if this was some sort of exercise or test. They must’ve determined
something was truly wrong because they quickly fetched their weapons, guns and knives
ready to spill the blood of whoever dared to intrude into Ivan’s territory. Widows were not
known for their forgiving nature after all. One of the instructors motioned everyone against a
nearby wall away from the shooting range, and though she was calm and collected, Brook
could tell there was something about this intrusion that rattled her. Whatever the problem
was, it should’ve been dealt with by now after all. Yet the screaming and fighting in the
distance persisted.

The girls were ordered to stay put by the instructors, but the loud sirens and flashing red
lights ignited something in Brooklyn that made her move out the door.

Years later she would be able to identify what she had been feeling in that moment.
Hope.

It didn't matter who was attacking the Red Room Academy, all that Brook cared about was
the chance for freedom.

As her sestras stood against the wall, perfectly still, waiting for further instructions, Brook
took the risk to break formation and opened the metal door. Stepping out and into
opportunity.

None of the other girls reacted to her movement, some didn't even blink.

Good.

It would have been bothersome to have to kill those who believed they could stand in her
way.

Brook loaded the two guns she'd grabbed. Despite her dread and excitement, she cautiously
moved through the halls she knew so well, making her way under the flickering lights of the
hall towards the dining area where all the commotion could be heard.

It was likely that the intruders came in from the south exit, if they’d made it as far as the
dining hall, the eastern and southern halls must already be taken.

Moving to a crouch against the wall, peeking inside the massive room, the young girl
witnessed a strange scene. She’d been expecting the intruders to be from another assassin
guild. Instead, an unfamiliar faction in black suits were fighting the Red Room security
officers.

There were two dozen in the room with three snippers up by the windows of the lookout
offices.

Once the widows were killed, it would take only five minutes before they reached the
training rooms, where Brook should still be. It didn’t escape her how much of a betrayal this
was, the insubordination of her actions. She was defying an instructor’s orders, Ivan’s rule,
and for what? Because it felt like the right thing to do?

The right thing to do had never mattered before.

Brooklyn could still go back, help evacuate her sisters, fight alongside the other Red Room
agents. Those inside the room were clearly not members of any known assassin faction, so if
her own people or the current ‘diplomatic’ guests from the League of Assassins ordered her
to kill these strangers, it would only be right to do so. This wasn’t a petty fight for power, this
was an enemy to all assassins, that much was clear now. By proceeding with her betrayal, not
only would she be forsaking the Red Room, but the world of assassins.

This wasn’t just turning her back on her people, which was hard enough to consider, but it
was also turning her back on all she was.

Yet, as the strangers fought, Brooklyn could see the way they kept an eye on their comrades,
how when one was wounded, the others reacted to it with concern. It was odd, they were
losing their advantage by protecting their wounded but the care they showed for one another
made her pause.

Deep down she'd always considered herself broken because she had longed for more than this
life.

She'd seen these instructors kill and torture. They had ordered her to kill and torture. All for
the supposed greater good. Yet out there in the world…she’d come to learn there were people
who didn’t have to fight or kill.

Gazing into the stone-walled room, Brooklyn took it all in. The dried blood on the floors, the
smell of death, and the promise that one day this would be her legacy.

She knocked her head back against the wall, ignoring the sounds of ammunition and screams,
doing the one thing no one had ever taught or encouraged her to do: make a decision for
herself.

She found she enjoyed the challenge, the realm of possibility. Maybe making more decisions
for herself from now on wouldn’t be too bad, and despite how traitorous that made her to the
place and people she’d lived with for seven years, she was suddenly glad emotional
attachments had been forbidden. It made it easier to turn away from it all.

Brook gazed back into the dim room, her choice made.

Just like she was taught, the girl swiftly pressed away from the wall and fired ten successive
shots against her own people, working around the pain of her still fractured finger.

The Red Room agents were too busy focused on the enemy to notice her, making her job
easier. All hits were fatal, quick deaths, even when a part of her brain screamed they didn't
deserve that mercy. None of them had shown her any.

One by one, her sestras fell against the marble walls with heavy thuds, staining the room red
with blood.

Just like that, she’d done something she couldn’t take back.

Some of the intruders put down their weapons to analyze the bodies while others looked at
their comrades in confusion.

"Did you shoot them?" one asked.

They spoke English. Their accent stiff, slow, and exaggerated.

Amerikantsy. Americans. A peculiar surprise.

Before they could trace the killings back to the seven-year-old girl out in the hallway, Brook
made her way down the next hall where further havoc could be heard.

Suddenly, the plan to leave this place and put the death of all these years behind her propelled
her faster down the familiar routes. The freedom of it was almost intoxicating, allowing the
pain and anger of the years of her life to surface after all their time locked up. It summoned
other traitorous thoughts, like the possibility of claiming the credit for Ivan's kill, ensuring he
could never find her again.

The hope was unlikely since he'd probably long since left the facility once the border
defenses were wiped out. But it surprised her that there was more than fear when she thought
of him. There was anger. It felt like a kindling fire inside her body

At the fork of the southern hall, Brooklyn made her way to the upper levels to get a better
angle on the underground courtyard, her best bet for a possible escape.

On her way there, a few of her comrades were still fending off the intruders with success.
Those Americans were trained rather poorly, she observed. Brook didn't let herself think of
anything else but the number of rounds she had left after each shot at her own people again.
One by one, their shocked lifeless bodies fell before her feet. Her gun pointing at their heads
was the last thing they saw.

Some of the Americans shared wide-eyed looks in her direction, staring down at the small
malnourished body of a child with crazed auburn locks. Others looked past that, noted her
attire, and opted to point their guns at her.

She wanted to scoff at them for such foolish choices. She'd saved their lives after all, was
willing to pardon theirs so their commotion could ease her escape. Then again, whatever their
cause, she wasn’t for it. Brook reasoned that just as the Red Room was now her enemy,
perhaps these people were nothing more than a useful distraction. She owed them nothing,
nor would she let them hinder her new goal.

In the end, Brook had to kill the handful of the intruders who stood in her way. They would
have shot her, and she had no further time to waste with them.

Thanks to their weakness, she only had eight out of 24 bullets left on both guns.

Such a waste.

Leaving bloody footprints with their blood as she went up the concrete stairs and onto the
landing facing the sparring grounds, the young girl couldn't help but gawk at the sight from
the railing up above.

Down there, it seemed all the Red Room security was trying to hold the line. Brook
recognized some of the best Widows among them, ready to fight to the death. Even her
mother was there, usual crimson suit and katana in hand.

On the other side of the room, the Americans stared them down with resolve. They all bore
the black body suits she'd seen earlier, with the unfamiliar eagle symbol on their left arms.
They had black masks on too, like the ones Brook had noted offhandedly when she killed the
Americans down the stairs, ones she hadn't bothered to remove in her haste. They obscured
their features, or at least most of them.

At the front of the American ranks, was a woman with no mask.

Her hair was a shade of red much darker than Brook's, but her green eyes seemed familiar.
The strength and harshness in them were like everyone's eyes here.

It was almost as if she was one of Ivan's girls too.

Odd.

Taking a quick scan of the already familiar space, Brook knew there were only two exits out
of the room, one blocked by each opposing army. Both exits were too small for either force to
escape quickly without being shot to death, leaving them no choice but to end the fighting
here.

Brook just knew her glocks would not be efficient from this height.

Luckily, it seemed Ivan's little observation chamber a few steps from her was well stocked.
That small room had been a terrifying presence looming over her training sessions all her life.
It was a place overlooking the usual training room, one where death was determined, a place
made for Ivan and other instructors to assess the sparring matches every fourteen days.

Today, it would serve as her cover.

The Americans needed to have enough of an advantage for Brook to escape without an issue.
If her people were too busy worrying about their lives and the integrity of their base, they'd
dismiss her entirely as she tried to make it to the upper levels.

Once inside the small space mostly surrounded by glass windows, the girl tried to find a
useful weapon. Brook chose a CZ 805 assault rifle, grabbing from its place hanging
decoratively against the green walls on the room's southern side.

Unfortunately with her current height and weight, it was still difficult to adjust the weapon
against her body, but Brook could hardly wait to feel the painful shock against her shoulder
once she pulled the trigger if it promised freedom.

By the time she'd taken proper aim, the battle had begun.

Amidst the commotion below, she fired round after round against her own. Though she knew
no one was aware of her treachery, she hoped that maybe one day they might regret teaching
her how to become an efficient killing machine. The satisfaction that their own years of
induced torture on her were now the cause of their demise…it brought a cold grin to her place
face, one with splattered blood from her own sestras.

No one saw her of course, not a single person realized the shots came from up above. Her
own were too busy fighting the American enemy to have time to question the deadly shots to
the comrades' foreheads. None of them cared anyways, as long as victory prevailed.

Brook was glad she had excellent aim against moving targets, a skill refined after many years
of practice against animal targets and machine-generated ones. It ensured none of her shots
missed their mark. Not once.
The battle seemed to favor the Americans after a while, not that Brook cared as long as she
got her revenge and freedom. She could’ve stopped there, satisfied with the chaos to ease her
escape before the Americans had a chance to take over the halls that would mean her escape.
But those cruel brown eyes shifted to another side of the room, the only place the Red Room
was holding the line. The rifle against her shoulder, aimed towards that cluster, to the area her
'mother' was fighting in.

There she was, the most skilled of Ivan’s instructors, bathed in blood and not a single
emotion visible on her face. Brook followed that cluster of auburn hair with her rifle,
remembering the pain she’d suffered by her hand specifically. Brooklyn’s future was an
extension of that woman’s mission, a life the young girl no longer wanted. If Brook had
already come this far to secure her own path, perhaps she could cut the last few ties she had
to the Red Room.

It would not be swift death. Brook purposefully aimed her bullets around the woman, making
her lose focus from the fighting around them. Some bullets Brooklyn let graze against her
arms and legs, retribution for all the times the woman had shot her and commanded her to
keep fighting.

Though her mother never screamed out in pain at the open wounds, she could see the flexing
of her jaw in annoyance. In weakness.

Her taunting only stopped when she noticed that red-haired American woman breaking
through the flanks. Where she went, widows perished…and her gaze was locked on Ivan’s
favorite instructor.

There was no remorse in Brook’s heart as she aimed that rifle towards the widow’s ankles
where she knew the suit’s armor was at its weakest. Firing those two shots, perfectly
snapping her Achilles tendons and sending the woman to the ground…the satisfaction from
that could not be put into words. Especially so when the American used the distraction as an
advantage. When the widow’s neck snapped, Brook had expected another foreign emotion to
barrel into her, seeing as that was the being that gave birth to her, now splayed on the floor in
a pool of her own blood, head at a wrong angle.

She waited for one of the emotions from her Human Behaviors class to take hold at the loss
of a ‘family member.

But...she felt nothing but satisfaction.

Seeing her mother dead, it made the mutiny and betrayal all the more worth it.

The rest of the battle was hazy. Brook only remembered the sound of her fired bullets and the
pain ringing across her shoulder.

When she noticed the eagle-crested men and women had complete control over the massacre,
Brook knew it was time to leave. If she hurried she could still try and deactivate the western
door.
The large mansion serving as the Red Room Academy's cover, up above ground, would be
difficult to maneuver since she'd never been up there, but it was her only hope of escape. The
escape tunnels below ground were likely filled with fleeing Red Room agents, so this was her
only chance to flee undetected.

If her plan of escape worked, the city of Moscow was not too far off from what she'd been
taught. Maybe she would take refuge there, move south until she was miraculously out of
Russia.

With a new step in the mission settled, Brooklyn rushed out of the room and into the hallways
leading towards the surface, keeping a loaded gun to her side as she weaved and turned
around the endless maze of dark hallways.

It was about eight doors from freedom when a shadow appeared at the end of the hall with
two others behind it.

Against the flickering yellow light, Brook halted with a curse, recognizing that woman from
before. The American that had led the others.

Despite the skill the stranger displayed before, Brook still treated her as another bothersome
obstacle to her freedom and made to shoot her. But the woman was faster, managing to shoot
the gun out of Brook's hand before she'd even registered the movement.

That's when the young assassin realized she would die.

This woman, whoever she was, managed to infiltrate and annihilate one of the best-defended
fortresses on this continent (if her information was to be believed). Brook had killed some of
the woman's people, and she'd been such a young fool to think the American hadn't noticed
her up in that room.

How the stranger had tracked her down so efficiently in this maze…she guessed she’d never
know.

Glancing at her empty hands, the young girl sighed. In Brook's eyes, death wasn't something
to fear. In some ways, freedom by death would be equally as welcome as a life out in the
world. Her goal had been to escape the Red Room...so maybe this couldn't be considered an
unsuccessful mission after all.

With that in mind, the girl sank to her knees, gaze locked up towards the woman who
continued to make her way over, slowly...like an animal assessing her prey.

Brook knelt, letting her red-stained gray jumpsuit be evidence of the blood she’d spilled
today. The Americans obviously cared for their own, so she hoped the stranger’s thirst for
vengeance would grant her a quick death.

Just when Brook was closing her eyes, getting ready to die, the woman suddenly spoke in
perfect Russian, almost making Brook jolt up in shock.

"Ty devushka, kotoraya ikh zastrelila?" the woman asked.

Of course, Brook was the one that shot them! Although the 'them' was very misleading. Did
she mean the Red Room agents or her people?

Either way, it likely didn't matter, she'd done both.

"Ya gotov umeret'" the young widow replied. It was the truth...she was ready to die.

The woman pursed her lips and kneeled down before her. The American handed her weapon
to one of the masked men suddenly behind her before locking eyes with Brook again. There
wasn’t a single ounce of anger in those green eyes, only…recognition.

"Eto bylo vpechatlyayushche. Bylo by stydno ubit' tebya" the woman said, guiding Brook up
to her feet with a steady hand on the girl's shoulders.

It was impressive. It would be a shame to kill you.

A shame? Why?

Brook took a few steps back once she was back up on her feet, brows raised as she pointed
behind her where the massacre had occurred. From what Brook had been taught, Americans
had a large hero complex, and they often intervened in anything if they thought they'd be the
saving angels.

Brooklyn knew the Red Room was not exactly on the side of morality, even when she'd been
taught of its glory and righteousness since birth. They were enemies, yet the American made
no move to fetch another weapon.

So Brook dared to ask, "Ty ubil moikh lyudey. YA takoy zhe, kak oni. Pochemu ty ne ub'yesh'
menya?"

The woman seemed to ponder Brook's words with amusement.

You killed my people. I am like them. Why won't you kill me?

It was then that the woman finally showed a kind smile, one Brook had only seen in diagrams
of in her Human Interactions lessons. Smiles that were not cruel grins were unfamiliar…it
was enough to throw Brooklyn off balance.

In English now, the red-haired woman answered, "Because I am just like you, sestra"

Sestra? Who was this American woman to call her sister?

Unless...

This woman had clearly led the attack, those men and women with the eagle symbols clearly
answered to her. Only someone who knew the building well could have possibly done it
successfully, could’ve intercepted Brooklyn just now too. The underground tunnels
themselves were made to confuse intruders, weaving like worms in the ground. This woman
had to have known them. Plus, now that Brook realized it, the fighting style she displayed
was signature Red Room close-quarters combat skills. Brook could identify it without a
doubt.

Since the woman switched languages, Brook answered back in English as well with ease.

"Who are you?"

The green-eyed woman smiled, seemingly pleased with Brook's thought process.

"I'm Agent Romanoff of SHIELD. My name is Natasha, but you can call me sestra"

This was impossible.

This was THE Natalia Romanova. Undoubtedly the best widow to have ever graduated from
the Red Room, arguably the best agent in the KGB. The one Brook had been trained to
surpass after the woman’s disappearance before her birth.

The legendary Natalia was no longer a widow, that much was clear, somehow having allied
with the other side, the enemies of all assassins. And at that moment, for some reason despite
being on opposing sides, Natalia Romanova showed no signs that she planned on killing
Brook.

With a sigh, Brook dared to look into those surprisingly kind eyes, noting nothing off with
her. She didn't seem corrupted by the Americans in any way, not under neurological
enslavement.

She stood there, and seemed strong and sure of what she was and what she’d done.

What had Natalia Romanova seen out there that had made her switch allegiances? What did
the brightest of the Red Room witness to choose a new path that led her back here to kill her
own people?

Now that she knew who she was against, Brooklyn knew better than to try and fight her and
those that fought for her…but she debated running. That was until Natalia ushered the agents
behind her to leave the hall, to leave them alone.

To ease her, Brook realized. It was such a strange..what was the word? Kindness?...that the
young assassin finally realized that she wasn't alone. Here was another widow, one that had
turned her back to the Red Room. It wasn't an anomaly or a flaw. If the two deadliest widows
had turned their back on their master…then maybe this path she’d chosen hadn’t been a
mistake after all.

Instead of fighting or fleeing, Brook finally let her guard down and bowed before the woman.
Not to plead for her life, but in respect.

Then, once she was sure death was not around the corner, she asked nervously, "Sestra, can
we leave?"

The hand on her shoulder was the first touch she’d received that did not mean pain or
punishment. And as she was raised from the floor and the two daughters of Ivan walked side
by side down the flickering hallways, Brooklyn didn’t look back once.

She kept her head raised high, and her passive face did not falter until they made it out of the
academy’s building. Until she felt the first warm rays of the sun on her skin. She had never
admitted it to anyone, but the sight of the blue sky, the blazing sun above them…it took her
breath away.

Standing beside Natalia Romanova before those elegant gardens of green grass and shaped
bushes full of flowers she’d never even heard of, the Red Room (both above ground and
below) began to burn. Brook found its warmth as comforting as that of the sun above.

Natalia let her stand there for a while, absorbing everything as if she knew what it felt like to
see the world for the first time. And absorb she did, enough that she almost missed when a
black furred coat was placed atop her shoulders to fight the cold that hadn’t quite seeped into
her bones yet. Glancing at Natasha, the young girl noticed the woman donned an identical
coat, then proceeded to place an equally onyx ushanka atop Brook’s auburn head, then her
own.

Then, both of the ex-widows with hands still covered in blood made their way down the lush
gardens that were being set aflame, walked down the stone path between the distant flames
toward the eagle-crested individuals that Brook could no longer view as enemies.

She only saw them as freedom.

THAT had been the beginning of Brooklyn's freedom. Arguably, the beginning of her life.

Two days later, the five ninjas finally arrived from their journey, rushing towards the main
training space where they knew they’d find their master at this hour.

Ignoring the clusters of snow that fell atop them, they moved swiftly, pleased they had most
surprising news to report. That had been their job, after all, to use the pretense of a ‘peaceful’
visit to enemy territory to gather intel after hearing rumors of the Red Room’s progress.
Rumors that no longer mattered it seemed.

Originally, they had planned to come back with the news that Ivan the Great had an heiress in
mind, one he had hidden and trained for years. She’d been shown to them as a way to display
the Red Room’s power, nothing more than to show off what the League of Assassins would
have to contend with if they tried to cross them. They would have reported on the alliance
between the Red Room and a dying German faction too. All knowledge their master
would’ve used for his own gain eventually.

Despite the thin and fragile alliance between the League and Red Room, the two were still
the most notable of enemies in the assassin world. Their visits to the other’s territory were
always masked with pleasantries but naturally served as ways to show off power. The five
ninjas never got the chance to show off their training against Ivan’s widows, not when a most
unexpected attack had occurred.
One they would now report to their master after having fled it undetected.

Once at the open courtyard notable for its finery and exclusive use by their master, three of
the five masked individuals made their way to its middle where their master stood in familiar
green-silk robes sprinkled with golden accents despite the crisp weather. As always, twin
katanas rested on his hands, ready to fight or to demonstrate a mistake.

Their master’s cold eyes were focused on the young boy before him, who was swinging his
katana with deadly precision at invisible enemies. Despite barely being seven years old, their
young master was already at a skill far beyond their own. Those green eyes that resemble his
mother's were already unfeeling and deadly, just like every Al Ghul was known for.

Like their master, the young protégé was dressed in equal finery of greens and golds, but that
was where their similarities ended. One was thousands of years old while the other’s life had
just begun. Where one had graying long hair, the other had close-cut onyx locks he must’ve
inherited from his father.

No one knew who the young master’s father was, but they did know that he had been
carefully selected to ensure only strength and power fueled the young boy’s veins.

This was the young master that would rule over the world one day, the heir to the al Ghul
name that would fulfill their mission to bring forth the perfect world under their banner.

The three subordinates did not dare interrupt the training session. They simply knelt on the
snow-covered ground, beholding with masked satisfaction as their master’s grandson
performed every skill to its highest degree of difficulty. It was a high honor to behold not
only their master and his heir, but to be exposed to such graceful skill.

None of them would ever voice it, for they were not allowed to speak to anyone but their
master, but they were all thinking that those meant to rule really were a different breed of
individuals. A deadlier sort.

They’d seen it in Ivan’s heiress, and they could spot it now in their young master as he
annihilated the ninjas his grandfather summoned with ease. There was no hesitation, no
mercy, only practiced efficiency as the snow-covered grounds bathed in blood.

The blood splattered could’ve been mistaken as a deadly work of art, at least to their kind.

Only once the killing had ended and their young master bowed to the Demon’s Head, earning
a dissatisfied glare despite the impressive and flawless performance, did their master shift his
gaze and allow them forward. Their footsteps against the snow made no noise, there was only
the distant whistles of wind chimes as the three black-clad ninjas made their way to their two
masters.

One could almost feel it, an oppressive force in the air simply by standing before the two. It
was laced with power, strength, and an air only royalty possessed.

The ninja in the middle took a step forward while the other two remained rotten in place
behind him. Despite the hollowness in his heart, the fear of standing before the mighty Ra’s
al Ghul was still there.

But his voice was not allowed to waver, so it did not.

“Saqatat 'iimbiraturiat 'iifan. Laqad halakat qaeidatuh wakadhalik shaebah, bima fi dhalik
warithathu. Alghurfat alhamra' lam taeud mawjudatan” the lowly ninja reported in Arabic,
keeping his news short and to the point as was expected.

Ivan's empire fell. His base as well as his people, including his heiress, have perished. The
Red Room no longer exists.

The young master looked up at his grandfather, hands behind his back and hood above his
head guarding his impressive face from the falling snow. The young heir only dared to grin
when he noticed Ra’s al Ghul was.

It was a chilling smile, one that had every bone in the ninja’s body urging him to run far
away. He remained rooted in place regardless.

In English, their master told his heir, “Ivan is a clever man, I doubt the destruction of his
empire means his own demise. Still, this puts us at the top of the assassin world,
unchallenged and unquestioned”

“Should the Red Room rise again, what do we do?” their young master, inquired with the
calculated chill of someone who didn’t much care for the slaughter that had occurred but only
about what it meant to the League.

Ra’s al Ghul shifted then, walking over to the railing of the massive curved balcony to his
right, one from which he and his heir could see the entirety of the League of Assassins base
nestled atop the snowy mountains well above the cloudline.

Moving to stand behind them, the three ninjas beheld the dozens of training grounds below,
all full to the brim with those running drills below. Every curved roof was of darkest wood
and brightest gold. Each hall and bridge below had assassins in dull gray suits moving with
brisk efficiency instilled into them all since birth.

Not bothering to address the ninjas being him, Ra’s al Ghul said to his heir, “It doesn’t matter
if the Red Room survives, it will take them years to rebuild to even a sliver of the power they
used to hold. It was necessary”

The young heir glanced down at his future empire, wind fluttering his hood as he inquired,
“You had something to do with that? This was no accident was it?”

Ra’s al Ghul’s cold voice made the ninjas shiver, not his heir, as he explained, “Not exactly.
When the Americans began making the right assumptions about the Red Room’s location, I
didn’t stop them despite being able to. You see, when a forest grows too wild, a purging fire
is inevitable and natural. Let the fall of that empire, the slaughter of all those unworthy
assassins be a lesson to you, Damian”
 The demon gestured a ring-clad hand towards the sun creeping up with resplendent light and
said to his heir, “The League of Assassins has been a check against human corruption for
thousands of years. We sacked Rome, loaded trade ships with plague rats, burned London to
the ground. Every time a civilization reaches the pinnacle of its decadence, we return to
restore the balance”

“What of the Americans? How long will we allow them this victory?” Damian asked, the
katanas across his back now gleaming with the sun’s splendor.

“They are no threat to us. But know this, if someone stands in the way of true justice, you
simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart”

The three ninjas bowed in agreement, and though none of them would ever voice it, they
knew that just as the Red Room had fallen, many more would in the years to come by the
Demon’s cunning and planning.

They just never expected it to be League, or their master.

Chapter End Notes

FYI:

Malyshka means little girl in Russian.

I've decided to use the pronunciation of the Russian language in this story rather than the
actual spelling, hopefully that makes it easier to read for all of you while still retaining
the essence at its core.

Also, there will be many issues that derive from Brooklyn's childhood, which require me
to do quite bit of research on the mental effects of trauma on a person. I want to write
this story well and do it justice to those suffering with mental health. Please be patient
with me if I get something wrong.
At the same time, I want to remind you to be happy today. Enjoy the simple things in
life, and stay positive. Let's use this fanfic to spread a little positivity into the world,
shall we?
 This is Kidnapping You Know?

Brooklyn POV-

Music was blasting, her head was on fire, and she had pins and needles on her left foot.
Surprisingly none of that had woken her, it had been that constant nightmare from the past, a
reminder of who she’d been and why this particular situation was probably the worst-case
scenario for her. Brook didn’t believe in gods, no matter that they roamed around with flying
hammers, but if there was a deity pulling the strings of life she imagined it would be very
amusing with this sequence of events.

At least someone would appreciate the irony then.

"This is kidnapping you know" Brook muttered to herself as soon as her head stopped
spinning and she could finally take in her surroundings.

Ironic how she'd planned to spend her afternoon staring at the beautiful car out in the parking
lot, only to find herself inside it hours later.

Brook had been thrown in the back seat of the Audi, which was a limited space considering
the model of the car. Still, the seats were comfortable, custom-made, and likely more
expensive than everything in her apartment combined. More expensive than the apartment
complex as a whole.

Then there was the large metal suit of the Iron Man sitting next to her, metal arms on its lap,
and as if all of this was a messed up fever dream, the suit had its seatbelt on. Brook
considered touching it, to try to move it so she'd have more space. As soon as her hands
neared the empty middle seat, the suit turned to face her with bright conscious lights in its
eye sockets.

It was as if it was silently saying, I dare you.

The teen just raised up her hands in defeat and let an empty suit bully her into scooting closer
to her corner like a kicked puppy. Not a puppy, she hated dogs…maybe she was more of a
pathetic dazzle that hadn’t run away from trouble fast enough. Survival of the fittest and all
that was really starting to annoy her.

Brook still felt a little dizzy, and even if it was just for a second, she considered throwing up
inside the car as punishment to her captors. The owner in particular.

But she deserved this pain. As of late, Brooklyn had grown very comfortable with her life,
enough so that she stopped doing what should be routine at this point. When Tony Stark
showed up at her home, Brook should have scanned the area properly, questioned the oddity
of the car she was currently sitting in. But she’d turned into nothing more than a compliant
civilian, or as the Red Room would have referred to them, collateral damage.

Lucky for her, instead of snipers hiding around her building it was only a superhero in tights.
Well, not lucky, considering he stopped her from meeting a quick end, and thanks to that,
Brooklyn was now on her way to the Red Room 2.0. Or whatever glorified name SHIELD
had for such a place.

The thought of being stuck underground almost made that instinct to throw up that much
stronger.

What punishment methods would they implement? Could she bear the feeling of being
handcuffed to bed again every night?

If she were lucky, maybe after a few days, the school would report her missing. Then they
could start an investigation...that SHIELD or the Avengers would likely stop. Unfortunately,
it probably wouldn't even get that far considering Brook never spoke to anyone at school, the
student body would likely never even note her absence.

But she also had neighbors. They would surely notice, maybe even care. Or they would think
her parents finally came back from their 'long trip abroad' and dismiss it as her rudely not
even saying goodbye. Maybe the college boys upstairs would use her apartment to expand
their party space once they realized she was gone.

Brook’s job was a bust too. In fear that one day she'd have to leave in a hurry, Brook told her
boss that her parents would have to take her back to New Orleans eventually. Her innocent
boss wouldn't even question her absence thanks to her paranoia.

It seemed that no one would come to her rescue then. Not that anyone ever did, often enough,
she could only rely on herself. That was a lesson she had learned early on and had always
held on to.

With the two heroes in the front of the car, escape would be rather difficult, especially
because Stark seemed to like driving eighty miles per hour. If she jumped out of the car now,
she’d be nothing more than a splatter of organs and skin on the side of the road for sure.

Highway to hell, indeed.

As probably the smartest thing she’d done all day, for the first ten minutes since she came to
consciousness, Brook had refused to say anything to her captors. She just sat in silence and
pondered her options…one of which was choking the life out of the Spider-man, which
would be easy considering they hadn't restrained her or anything.

But the grip the masked hero had on her back there when she jumped, it was confirmation
enough that those Youtube videos of him were truly not photoshopped or edited. Perhaps he
COULD stop driving cars with his bare hands, meaning he was likely one of those mutants
the world loved gossiping about so much. That made him a threat she had to further evaluate
before acting rashly.

As if she hadn't been taken prisoner, both Stark and his buddy tried to speak to her a few
times in the course of the next few minutes. They asked if she was comfortable, if she wanted
something to eat, and upon her silence, they promised the trip would be quick.
It was all a ploy to get her guard down, of course. Likely getting her ready for whatever
torture awaited at SHIELD's new base or something. Brook tried not to think about which
methods would be used to get her to comply with this mission Stark was so fixated on. It
wouldn't matter. Brook had been trained to keep her mouth shut against any form of torture,
whatever methods they had up their sleeve, she was confident nothing would get through.

As long as they didn't turn her over to the likely remainders of the Red Room that is. Going
back there, that she could not survive.

Trying to clear away the awful thought of her past and the unlikely future her ridiculous
nightmare had likely conjured, Brook shifted her gaze out the window, trying to pinpoint
where she was being taken.

They were clearly out of city limits by now, with only trees and a smooth road ahead. This
was likely northern New York, the parts unplagued by major cities. Though she hadn't seen
any suburbs yet, or even a gas station.

The phone she always kept in her skirt's pocket was missing as well, because she'd left it in
the kitchen counter, and that ancient and worn MP3 player was likely still blasting music on
the floor without its owner. Not like she could have done much with that, it was a flip phone
with no internet access, google maps wouldn't come to the rescue. As for music, she was
certain her captors would never let her get lost in its melodies again.

This was likely her last glimpse at the skies for a long while, her last time to enjoy the
normalities and luxuries of life she’d come to enjoy before she was put behind bars.

The thought of that was unpleasant, but what made the ride truly unbearable after a while was
the music Stark was blasting. Like any reasonable human being, Brook also liked AC DC,
that wasn't the problem. The issue was that she was listening to it with this pair of idiots, who
wouldn't stop talking over the last music she’d ever get to listen to, speaking about stupid
things like lab hours and some sort of test Spider-man was worried about.

Were Avengers/SHIELD tests that difficult that a mutant was worried about his performance?
It piqued her interest for a brief period of time, but they were being vague with their words,
fully aware she was listening.

Brooklyn wouldn't get anything useful out of them, that much was certain, not unless she
swallowed her pride and tricked them into telling her things. But speaking to Stark was not
something she was willing to do, not unless absolutely necessary.

At last, after a 20-30 minute drive since she'd come to consciousness, some metal gates
emerged in front of their path, distracting her from the infuriating coded conversations before
her.

The walls surrounding the gates were likely 40 feet tall and appeared to be reinforced
strongly, with at least four guard towers in sight. When the car approached them and the
soldiers above began to take aim, Stark didn't slow down.
For a second, Brook wondered if he was intent on crashing through that gate. He could
survive with one of his suits, and the spider guy likely could too. But as just a mere human,
Brook would not be as lucky. If she was dying, it would be on her terms, not Stark’s, and that
would be the real shame of all this.

Thankfully, once the guards got a good look at the speeding car, they hurriedly opened the
gates and the car passed without any problems.

Brooklyn tried not to be too loud with her sigh of relief. She was about to yell at Stark for his
reckless driving....then she saw it.

Before them was a beautiful green landscape filled with elegant buildings, quinjet landing
bases, running clusters of unformed soldiers, and on the side of the main building…a large
and unmistakable A.

Not a SHIELD prison or training center for criminals. An…unexpected surprise.

This was the alleged Avengers Compound then, the replacement to the Avengers tower in
Manhattan (the one Brook often had gazed up at during her childhood).

The sight of this place came as a little bit of a shock, to say the least, perhaps not a pleasant
one, she reminded herself. Looks could be deceiving.

On the outside, it appeared relaxing, quiet, and nothing like the Red Room-like base she'd
been expecting. As Stark finally slowed down along the pebble roads, Brook got a better look
at the soldiers running about from her window. They looked tired, but not on the brink of
death. Overall they seemed well fed, and dare she say...happy? Some bickered and nudged
their comrades playfully, others stopped to stare in awe at the passing car, even when their
instructor was right before them.

Brook was surprised there was no punishment being lashed out at their break of focus. The
men and women in charge just yelled louder at their lot, and their subordinates followed
along with smiles on their faces.

All around them, massive oak trees swayed in the wind, rose bushes along the road all
carefully trimmed and planted. Brook even noticed some benches scattered around the
grounds where people were peacefully reading or talking, their uniforms or lab coats
discarded without a care.

They all looked well cared for, no one had any visible injuries she could spot or any limps
from those unseen. They all carried that SHIELD emblem with pride. The one with the eagle
she’d seen long ago during her escape from Russia.

This place...it was NOT what she had expected.

It seemed more like Adelphi High than a training academy or a base of operations. Brimming
with life, a place to grow.
Perhaps Brook was still knocked out and this was all a dream. Likely not, the pain in her tired
limbs was very real and barely receding.

In minutes, the yellow Audi made its way to the main building, a multi-story space with large
glass windows and the greater mass of people assembled by its area. Even with the last rays
of the afternoon sun upon them, the place shone with splendor as if it were a holy site.

People with briefcases, lab coats, and training attire walked to and from the large main doors.
Some even waved at the passing car with enthusiasm, but no one seemed scared or worried
that one of their bosses was there.

With this amount of technology and such a lavish environment, it was obvious this place was
something only Stark could afford. He had to be one of the people in charge not just because
he was an Avenger, but because he was a billionaire.

Both men in the car didn't seem as phased by this place as she was, they just casually
continued their conversation with jokes and laughs. Like this peace and joy were normal.

When the vehicle finally pulled over by the front door, Stark killed the engine and turned
back to face her. It took all her strength not to flinch against his gaze or rush forward to try
and strangle him for bringing her here.

"Please don't make me knock you out again in there, Daphne. You'll embarrass me in front of
the group if you do" the man said, earning a small laugh from the Spidering, whose
mannerisms seemed more childish the longer she paid attention.

Spider-man also turned to stare at her with some sort of pleading gesture. Hell, even the Iron
Man suit's head turned to face her with its glowing eyes, as if it too wanted to hear her
response.

Truth was, Stark's words temporarily startled Brook. She was expecting more of a threat from
him, something along the lines of If you try to hurt anyone, I'll fly you to the Atlantic Ocean
and drop you there till you drown.

Would she behave? With her two new bodyguards perhaps she should, there was little choice
for now at least. Brook needed to wage their skills further, scan her surroundings, and come
up with a better escape plan so SHIELD could never meddle in her life again.

Once the torturing or the likely scenario of her being locked up came about, that's when
Brook would make her move. It would give her time to memorize the layout for her escape,
even when those guard posts over the barrier would likely be a problem.

With a heavy sigh, Brook marked an x across the clothes over the area where her heart should
be as she’d seen girls at school do when they made silly pacts they swore they’d keep. As if
they didn’t betray one another on the regular for popularity points. Still, she’d cataloged that
as a symbol of ‘keeping a promise’ along with its silly phrase.

"Cross my heart or hope to die" she recited, stretching her hands out in the space between the
men, fists closed, palms facing upwards.
Stark looked puzzled by her actions, bringing down his colored shades as he beheld Brook’s
arms when she began to shake her bracelet-covered wrists impatiently.

"What are you doing?" the Spidering asked, his voice deep, metal eyes of his mask shrinking
towards her. It didn't seem menacing, but as if he were genuinely curious.

Brooklyn rolled her eyes.

"Aren't you going to cuff me now?"

Both men looked at each other in silence, then back at her with an expression she couldn't
quite make out, especially on the masked man's face.

"Why would we do that?" Spider-man asked, taking both her hands and pushing them gently
towards her. Mr. Stark, for all his bravado, kept those honey-brown eyes locked on her with
what she assumed had to be some sort of pity behind them. As if he knew she expected to be
restrained to the nines and he found that barbaric.

She ignored his stare, crossing her free arms before her chest.

They really wouldn't cuff her then...Duraki. Fools.

It took a while for Brook to register that they were telling the truth. At which point she just
nodded silently and stepped out of the car, letting the door slide upwards on its own to reveal
the fresh breeze of the fall afternoon.

It was then that the teen realized she was barefoot.

Brook had taken her shoes off back at home and hadn't bothered putting some on when she
jumped to her death. Now tiny rocks were stabbing her bare feet like the legos the neighbor
kids owned and loved to leave around the ground. Days ago, those young humans had been
the greatest struggle of control her life possessed, now she was here...a huge leap into
insanity.

Schooling her face into neutrality, Brook waited as her unwanted companions got their
bearings. No use in running with so many SHIELD personnel around.

Stark emerged from the car before her, with his suit jacket back over his red shirt (one with a
witty joke written over it that Brook tried to ignore) and the files he'd had at her apartment.
The one with her name on it was at the top of the stack, visible as he carelessly placed them
under his armpit.

The Iron Man suit had also opened its door on the other side of the car, quickly taking off to
who knew where without a single goodbye. Not that she expected one. Seconds later, Spider-
man emerged from that side too, waving at a few people passing by who ogled and greeted
him before he impressively flipped over the car to stand beside her.

Realizing her coat was also left behind, Brook crossed her arms before herself, trying to
preserve as much warmth as possible without seeming cold in front of these people. Then
again, she was the only idiot wearing nothing but a dress in fall temperatures. She'd stand out
eventually.

Just then, as she began debating the merits of begging for a merciful death, the large glass
doors before them opened to reveal a man in a business suit and a scowl to match the stiff
steps he took towards them. He was a little heavier than her captors, slightly taller, and
seemed much less friendly.

At last, this place was showing its true colors.

The newcomer stopped before Stark, clutching one of his shoulders in what Brook assumed
to be a friendly embrace, or at least as much as this man would show.

"I called four times! Why didn't you answer your phone, Tony? I get worried, you know that"
the stranger scolded, causing Stark to engage in a fit of small, amused laughs.

"Relax, Happy. I took Spider boy on an...educational field trip"

The man, apparently named Happy (even when he looked anything but), turned to said Spider
boy with a frown and an accusatory finger his way.

"YOU could have answered, I called. You're lucky I owe you, boy. Otherwise, I'd have you
grounded somehow!" Happy said.

The hero beside Brook looked panicked as he placed a hand over where his mouth should be
and another rubbed the back of his neck feverishly when he stammered with his words.

"I'm sorry Mr. Happy! Tony told me to be on lookout and I didn't even look at my phone
during the car ride because I was so worried that she wasn't waking up" the hero said,
pointing at Brook, who had a shocked expression across her face she couldn't mask, "Then
she did but I was worried she'd gotten hurt but she was fine and..."

"Ok, I'm gonna stop you right there," Happy said, pointing at the shoeless girl with a raised
brow, almost sounding exhausted as he hesitated to ask, "Who's that?"

Brooklyn felt her face heat up in anger, and she seriously considered stabbing the pen within
his suit pocket right onto one of 'Happy's' lungs.

Stark smirked at the inquiry, throwing an arm over Brook's shoulders which she immediately
shrugged off in panic. The billionaire didn’t look deterred by her action and simply rolled his
eyes.

"This friendly, and kind young lady here is the new recruit I told you about yesterday. Why
don't you introduce yourself?" Stark asked her, and when the girl refused to answer, he
shrugged and did it for her, "Her name is Brooklyn Jones"

Happy eyed her curiously, assessing and calculating before turning to yell at Stark.

"She's a kid! You never said she was a kid, Tony!"

Congratulations, his eyesight worked properly.

That comment made Brook step just a little bit closer to him, a move Happy didn't miss as he
placed his hand closer to the gun on his hidden holster.

"You know, on a scale of the Snow White dwarves, I would have classified you more as a
Grumpy, not a Happy" Brooklyn smirked, daring him to draw the gun. If he tried to fire, he’d
surely regret it no matter how many heroes were around. She almost wished he’d try.

The man just frowned her way.

"Happy, be nice!" Stark said in fake reprimand, turning him around and resting his arm
around his shoulders as he added, "She's perfect for the job"

Another tried sigh from Happy.

"See Tony, this is the last thing I need right now. Another kid to look after. Another member
of a generation of this 'Dynasty of heroes' you lot are trying to make, only for me to babysit!
One kid is enough already" Happy whispered as they walked towards the entrance.

Unsure whether to follow along, Brook stood still until the Spiderling carefully nudged her
arm. If his touch had lingered, she might’ve broken his arm just to prove a point. Lucky
him…

"We should go inside too, I promise it's much warmer there. Oh! I think we're just in time for
dinner too!"

Brook couldn't help but be confused by the man she was still dying to kill. It was like he
didn’t understand they weren’t friendly acquaintances like he and Stark were, because despite
his deep robotic voice, she could tell he spoke with the intention of trying to seem kind.

Why was he that? How many espresso shots did the hero down this morning?

"Lead the way then, captor," Brook said, trying not to seem desperate to make it inside to the
smooth ground and warm interior.

At her side, the red-suited hero began to stammer again, something that seemed to be a
personal trait of his, "God…I'm sorry! We aren't your captors! I'm sure you can leave
whenever, but Mr. Stark wants you to see the others, get to know us, and all that. I promise
we're not gonna cuff you or anything, that would be awful..."

Stepping inside, Brook tuned out his rambling and did the sensible thing of taking in the new
surroundings this time around. The lobby was a spacious place surrounded by elevators and
closed doors with various meeting rooms full of suits discussing things with power-point
holograms. The potted plants and lavish sitting areas gave the elegant space an air of…
civility and comfort. One she’d refuse to fall for.

Maybe this was their cover the way the ballet institute was the Red Room’s back in the day. It
had to be.
At the center of the space was a large marble statue of the Avengers symbol, and before it, a
large circular desk with four busy secretaries handing out papers and cards. Upon seeing Mr.
Stark and his companion (who still seemed to be arguing something), the impeccably dressed
ladies greeted him with bright smiles. To her shock, the famous playboy didn't shoot them a
flirtatious look, he only nodded at them and the other passing agents with calm courtesy.

Wasn't he supposed to be the kind of man who took everyone with a pulse to bed? It's the
way Ivan had described him…amongst other unpleasant adjectives.

Cutting off her companion's rambling, Brook gestured to the space, the array of upper floors
visible as people walked along the railed suspended bridges above them.

"Is this where you guys work?" she inquired, possibly her first decent words in hours.

The masked man looked down at her and nodded furiously.

"Well, this is where the remainder of the Avengers Division of SHIELD is. You know,
because of the Hydra incident a few years back? Mr. Fury brought in his most trusted people
to rebuild here with the Avengers. I wouldn't say we work here, but many of the Avengers
train and have rooms here"

"Rooms?" Not cells? Or communal sleeping areas?

The hero waved at the secretaries as they passed by. Meanwhile said ladies eyed Brook
confusingly, staring at the trail of small pebbles she'd dragged inside with her bare feet.
Common courtesy dictated Brooklyn should apologize for the mess, but instead she turned
away from them, focusing on the glass elevator where Stark and Happy awaited, holding the
doors open.

Let Stark’s servants deal with the mess their boss had brought along. It was his fault she had
no shoes on to begin with.

Once both Brook and Spiderman made it inside the small glass rectangle, the group put their
hands on a screen on the side of the elevator. After their hands were scanned, a female robotic
voice confirmed their identities, repeating their names along with a monotone welcome
back. When Brook didn't move, the elevator lights suddenly turned red, and the voice began
to classify her as an unauthorized individual. Her eyes visibly widened when a small alarm
went off, one that drew the attention of the personnel walking by outside the elevator.

With a tired sigh, Stark gently grabbed Brook's wrist and placed it on the glass surface. It
took everything in her power not to yank her hand away from his, trying to let the computer
do its thing. It beeped and scanned for a few seconds, registering images of her fingerprints
and even shooting a surprising array of lasers that scanned her face.

When Brook had tried to back away, Spider-man put a hand on her shoulder, assuring her all
would be ok. She shot him a look, and he had the right mind to retract his hand quickly,
making Stark and Happy laugh as the computer program continued to scan her against her
will.
If only Stark would remove his hand from her bracelet-covered wrist...

Eventually, the machine finished its scanning, and with the same pleasant but monotone
female voice, it apologized for the misunderstanding. Stupid machine.

"This individual is not registered in the building's records as an employee. Should I register
her as a guest, Mr.Stark?"

Said man moved to lean against the metal railing to her left and casually waved a hand as he
gave instructions to the talking elevator.

"Give her the same Avengers trainee status as the little spider. Young Avengers code. Level 4
access, and unrestrained admittance for floors 1 through 6"

Brook tried to not let that familiar nickname hit home, little spider. After ‘reminiscing’ on
memories of her last day in the Red Room while she was knocked out, hearing Ivan's
nickname for her on Stark’s lips brought back that feeling of emptying out the contents of her
stomach.

Instead, she tried to focus on the bit of new information revealed to her. Spider-man was a
trainee. Looking sideways at him, the hero was giving her a thumbs up in what he must have
thought was encouragement.

"Access granted. SHIELD files successfully downloaded into the system. Miss Jones,
welcome to the Avengers compound"

Brook wasn't sure whether to answer the machine. It seemed like a stupid thing to do, so
when Stark removed his gentle grip on her wrist, she opted to just silently scoot off to the
side as the elevator began its ascend.

At least they wouldn't be going underground. That glimpse of the sun from minutes ago may
not be her last after all. Something that was actually a much bigger relief than it should’ve
been.

Once the pair of adults continued their hushed discussion, her masked captor moved to her
side on the other end of the elevator, even deigned to answer her previous question about the
rooms in the building.

"I don't think I understand your question from earlier. What's so odd about having rooms
here?" he whispered.

Brook smirked, "You're making it sound like they have lavish resting places"

As the elevator rose, the hero pointed to a floor with tinted windows up above them. There
was no one walking among the closed-off rails there, and unlike the other floors, Brook
couldn't see the things inside the much bigger level that was as high as two or three regular
floors.

"Um, well they do. Those are the private quarters where the Avengers live. I have a room
there too, and I'm sure there is one for you as well now that you’ve been recruited!" Spider-
man said enthusiastically, "The internet signal is really good, and the kitchens are always full.
Oh! And there are some recreation and leisure areas there with fun games"

Nothing was making sense. He was making that place sound like a five-star hotel instead of
an interrogation room like she would have guessed.

"We also have a movie room that's really cool. Mr. Stark likes to have us there on the
weekends to watch new movies and shows for team bonding. I think you'll like it! Vision
always makes the best popcorn for everyone, even though he can’t eat any"

Vision? Why did that sound familiar...

Oh, was it the floating red thing with a cape that was reported in Sokovia a few years back?
Brook had once watched the news at work, where the reporter Vicki Vale swore and claimed
the thing was artificial intelligence like Ultron, but 'good'. The reported artificial intelligence
had also signed the Sokovia accords (as if a machine's opinion mattered), and there were clips
of it fighting at the airport during some civil war the heroes had due to said accords. At least
that's what everyone called it.

Spider-man was making a machine sound normal, one that attended movie nights, the
concept of which seemed odd as well.

Brooklyn tried to rationalize this information, realizing that of course these heroes lived in
luxury, they were practically gods to the public of Earth. Everyone alive owed them their
lives, and it would surprise her if this place wasn't just funded by Stark.

When they were getting closer to the tinted floor up above, Stark stopped his conversation
with a displeased Happy, turning back to her.

"Liking the place?" he asked casually.

She didn't hate it. Brook just disliked that it didn't make sense. It was better than what she
could have hoped for a prison, at least for now.

"You brought me here, tin can. I don't think whether I like it or not matters at all"

Happy turned to the side in the elevator, trying to hide his small laughter with a fit of coughs
while the hero in red just looked between her and Stark over and over. She'd expected Mr.
Stark to finally lock her up for her rudeness, but he just raised his eyebrows and took off his
shades.

Stark said, "Here I thought we were friends after we saved you" to which Brook could only
scoff angrily.

"I was only in danger thanks to you. Don't expect me to thank you for any of that"

At last, Mr. Happy turned back towards them and looked at Brook with a new sort of
assessment. He was still cautious of the unknown, but there was some hidden mischief in his
eyes, like the ones the kids she'd looked after often had when they were planning to throw
their food or try to sneak past her espionage-enhanced instincts to no avail.
"Finally! Someone to talk back to you, Tony! I haven't seen you this speechless for a remark
in a long time" Happy said, shooting Brook a pleased nod.

She did not return the gesture.

Happy may be weary of her, rightfully so, but Brook also had an eye on this guy. Since
walking into this building, Brook noted that only a few people carried weapons around, this
man being one of them.

What license could grant him such an advantage in such a guarded place?

"I told you she'd be perfect for the team!" was all Stark replied as the doors of the elevator
opened, the robotic voice announcing this as the seventh-floor penthouse.

Brook was surprised the robot's voice followed them as they walked along the carpeted
hallways. Her voice seemingly coming from the walls or the ceiling, she couldn't tell.

"The Avengers arrived at the dining room ten minutes ago, Mr. Stark. The quinjet has been
sent to maintenance for cleaning regulations. Also, Dr. Cho has left for Washington DC. She
asked me to inform you that she'd be back with the promised research on Tuesday"

Looking around the tinted halls, Brook realized she could still see the outside where people
were busily walking from floor to floor, but she still couldn't see where the robot's voice
came from. Even with the darkness of the widows, the place was well-lit, but nowhere could
she spot a single sound system. Living in poverty, it seemed that Brook had missed a few
things when it came to technology. Flying suits were possible, aliens existed, gods roamed
the earth, and now...machines could talk everywhere.

Fantastic. Even more so considering she was stuck here, in the place all of those things were
not only possible, but a part of some messed up normality. It made her all the more eager to
try and find a way out as soon as she could.

Stark, walking ahead of them, shrugged off the suit jacket which he handed to Happy.

Stopping at the end of the hall before a set of massive wooden doors, the man let out a sigh.

"Thank you, FRIDAY. Make sure everyone is at the dining room right now, I have an
important announcement" was all he said, before shooting her and Spider-man a grin, then
opened the doors to a new environment...
 Privet Sestra
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

The machine, apparently named 'FRIDAY' of all things, left them alone with a polite
farewell. Afterwards, the only noise in the small welcoming area was the quiet sound of a
distant piano melody.

Unlike the Red Room, the lights above Brook did not flicker, they weren't even that bright
yellow that hurt the eyes when she stared at them for too long. These were small circular
holes on the ceiling that shone simple white light, something soothing and comforting.

It helped ease her nerves a bit. Knowing this place had yet to resemble her childhood home
was a small relief she wouldn’t let show, not when Stark and Spider-man were watching her
intently as she took in the space.

Once they made it to the sliding doors at the end of the blue carpeted entryway, Brook was
greeted with a large room out of an Ikea magazine. Probably consisting of the most expensive
things such a store had to offer. Large plush couches, flat-screen TVs, art that probably
belonged to a museum. All of it the highest quality of which Brook had never been exposed
to having walked the line of poverty for a good chunk of her life.

Even so, the space was deserted, only the sounds of the music playing across the space served
as a way to chase away the quiet from the people around her. Not that she minded the silence
she beheld every aspect of this room, Brooklyn wasn't sure that she'd be able to answer
anything.

As soon as they'd walked in, the room hit her with a smell like aerosol freshener, its scent
probably named 'dollar bills with a hint of vanilla'. It was ridiculous how even the air
managed to smell rich. Brooklyn also noted the large red curtains drawn on the windows,
likely obscuring the view of the front of the building. The height of them was impressive, but
likely bulletproof unlike the ones back in her flat which she’d burst through easily in her
meager attempt to escape fate. The windows would not be her way out of here either. At least
the large chandeliers above them made the space just as bright as the hall had been, she'd be
able to see all threats coming her way with ease.

Brook soon noticed she couldn't hear a peep of the commotion across the Avengers
Compound meaning this floor was also soundproof then. Also not a good sign if her
suspicions of being locked up here were correct.

Beside her, Stark carelessly threw his shades on a side table by the doors, then as if he were
truly back home removed his sneakers, leaving them next to one of the black couches for
someone to trip on later. Spider-man was a lot more careful in settling down. From a nearby
closet, he took out a simple blue hoodie and placed it over his suit, clearly intent on keeping
his secret identity from her.

Not like it mattered anyways, as if she'd want to see his traitorous face.

It wasn't long after that Stark's bodyguard mentioned he had work to do. When no opposition
came his way, Happy set off with a warning look towards Brook before heading back out the
hallway they'd just come from.

She didn't even have time to try and swipe his stupid gun.

Stark didn't appear to notice Brook's earlier motives when he waved her over with a clipped
smile, ushering her and the spiderling deeper into the room where frosted double doors lay.
On their other side, Brooklyn heard quite a bit of noise, both from talking and the
unmistakable sound of glass dishes moving around.

Stark wasn't taking her to an interrogation room?

Were the Avengers not going to take turns beating the crap out of an ex-assassin?

Brooklyn figured FRIDAY's words about a dining room had been a secret code for something
else. A way to try and ease her mind while she was shoved into a cold prison. Being wrong
didn’t necessarily settle well with her either.

Stark stopped before the doors, eyeing them with slight reluctance as he placed a hand on her
arm, which she shook off again for the second time that day as quickly as she could. He eyed
her with a questioning look before rolling his eyes.

"Stop being so stiff, Daphne! These people won't bite, they'll be excited to meet you," he
said, not bothering to give her any more time to consider what was happening or who they
meant before he opened the doors and announced his return.

The room inside yelled out complaints and welcomes, but Brooklyn refused to see as she hid
behind the wall next to the entrance. She needed to think, come up with a plan of attack.
There were too many voices in there, too many enemies that were present in the Avengers’
floor…well that could only mean she was at an unforeseen disadvantage…

With a sheepish smile sent her way she scowled at, Spider-man followed inside, leaving
Brook to take a peek at the interaction within.

To say she was even more confused now would be an understatement. The sight of the large
dining room was not at all what she'd expected as a possibility. Ever.

That wasn't the only thing that gave her pause.

Wasn't that blonde man a criminal? Was that facial hair? He looked...odd, definitely not the
way the golden boy of America naturally was.

Steve Rogers, an alleged criminal of the United States, was calmly sitting at the large table in
comfortable gray sweats and a plain shirt that way too tight for him. He was sipping from a
clear wine glass when Stark harshly hit him on the back a few times as a greeting, almost
making Mr. Rogers spill what she assumed to be water from his glass.

The others at the table began scolding Stark to leave the elderly man alone, saying stuff like,
'At his age, he could choke on anything' or 'Don't be so hard on him, it could raise his blood
pressure'.

Everyone laughed, ignoring the puppy-like pout said 'elderly' man sent across the table.

Brook was puzzled. She recalled seeing news footage of Stark and Rogers fighting tooth and
nail against each other a while back. It had been all over the news for weeks. Even her boss
wouldn't shut up about it in the days after the footage was released, spouting stuff about it
being a shame the Avengers were fighting against one another all because of the
government’s incompetence.

The two didn’t seem to be fighting now…

All Mr. Rogers did now in his defense was roll those crystal blue eyes at his companions and
gestured to an empty seat at the other side of the table for Stark to take.

Unaware of Brook's confusion, Iron Man sat next to a young woman, probably closer to
Brooklyn's age than everyone else in the room. The brown-haired girl was comfortably
snuggled to the...the red-skinned machine sitting next to her.

It was the robot Spider-man mentioned. Though the famous Vision had no food before him,
he sat at the table in an elegant suit, smiling brightly at the person beside him like she was
something valuable. Now that Brook pondered on it, the girl seemed familiar too, also a
public figure and a victim of nastier news segments. She was the mutant that caused the
explosion in Lagos, right? Brook remembered the customers at the diner buzzing about it all
day, throwing criticism at the woman who had fought in Sokovia alongside the Avengers,
likely saving the lives of everyone in the world.

It had been reported that she'd been taken into custody along with the 'non-compliant'
Avengers when the government accords were in place, pieces of paper meant to restrict the
power of heroes. Brook had only paid attention to all that nonsense because it was rumored
the Black Window was being charged with similar crimes.

An Avenger she didn’t dare to ponder on for too long, one that was thankfully not seated at
the table. It made Brooklyn wonder if perhaps Natalia HAD been arrested. If so, it's not like it
was her business anyways.

Aside from the Black Widow’s absence, the rest of the famed heroes seemed to be here,
eating together as if nothing was wrong. They didn’t appear like saviors of the world, but
rather like a happy family that would appear in a TV ad with joyous music in the
background.

None of them looked like Brook and the world saw them as. They were not in uniform,
weapons nowhere in sight. Some of them were wearing pajamas far too childish for their age.
Brooklyn knew no one would believe if she claimed to have seen the Falcon in a pajama set
covered with little dinosaurs holding guns on grabber tools, or that the Spider-man had a
Death Star hoodie. Not when the world regarded them as celebrities, as gods.

Speaking of said traitorous filth of a hero, when the Spider-man settled into his seat, he was
immediately greeted by the infamous War Machine, who seemed to have some sort of brace
support on his legs. Meaning the famous Colonel Rhodes HAD gotten injured as rumor
claimed. Some kid in her history class had sworn his life on it, and apparently, just became
twenty bucks richer without even realizing it.

Back in the room, the group of assembled Avengers looked confusedly at the spider hero,
inquiring why he was still wearing his suit, implying he was not only a regular at the table,
but that they knew his identity.

The hero stuttered apologies in return, an apparent habit of his.

From the head of the table, Stark cleared his throat, and despite her clear aversion to such
attention, he pointed her way. It took everything in Brook's mind not to bolt away from the
gazes of the famed Avengers.

Too many to fight, not enough knowledge to run away...darn it.

"We have a guest, my friends, and we don't need Spidy's face revealed just yet. He's a shy
boy, remember?" Stark said, causing said 'shy boy' to gently break away from the War
Machine's side embrace. He excitedly moved back towards the entrance of the room to stand
by Brook, gently pulling her inside without even realizing it.

She shrugged off his touch just as violently as she had Stark’s. Not that it deterred the masked
hero from pulling her to the edge of the massive oak table. Right before everyone.

Despite their audience, the Spiderling whispered guiltily, "It's not that I don't want you to see
my face, I just..."

Brook cut his rambling off, doing her best to imagine no one else was here, assessing her.

"I get it. I'm a stranger, no need to explain. Seeing your face is the last thing I need right
now" she spat, causing the room to go silent.

Perfect. Now that she was inside and the doors closed behind her, all Brook could do was
stand there awkwardly, open to the judgment of those before her for the seconds of silence
that followed.

With a simple nod, that spandex-wearing idiot actually left her to stand alone, making his
way to sit beside the Captain, who ruffled his head and greeted him with a friendly "Hey
Queens. Glad you could join us today". Brook could've sworn she saw the Falcon actually
roll his eyes.

Perhaps there was some hidden discontent between him and Spider-man, something she
could use to escape.
The masked hero began to panic again, shouting a string of good's and ok's until Rogers
leaned back with a smile, urging the boy to settle down as America's golden figure turned his
attention back to Brook, like all his companions were still doing.

No one had any idea what to do with her presence. This wasn’t a planned kidnapping then,
and by the looks of it, perhaps no one knew who she was or why she was here.

After a bite of bread, the billionaire finally snapped his fingers and announced cheerfully,
"Guess who brought a new recruit?"

Brook had no clue what to do, her body was frozen in place as continued to awkwardly stand
at the head of the table five steps away from the Captain. She was ready to fight at a
moment's notice, waiting for someone to make a move. Despite her stunned physical
reaction, Brook's mind was already planning how she'd use War Machine's braces to
incapacitate him on the floor, and how she'd use the Falcon's bread roll to suffocate his
airflow.

At last, someone cut off her thinking when he actually bothered to speak. Funny enough, it
was the Falcon, whose death she'd just been contemplating. Death by bread of all things.

"Seriously Tony?" he said, eyeing Brook up and down with scrutiny, just as Happy had
earlier.

Before anyone could get out another word, Brook finally summoned the courage to speak up
and sarcastically announced to the table, "If I hear 'she's just a kid' one more time, I'll kill you
all with the very forks you're stabbing your spaghetti with", then proceeded to point at the
man at the table she did not recognize, an indication she’d start with the weakest first.

The skinny brunet man set down the bite of food he was about to consume, hiding his fork
under the table cloth as if that could stop her. She wasn’t familiar with his face, but figured he
had to be a hero to earn a seat here. Not that it mattered, hero or not, he’d bleed the same as
everyone else in this world.

Silence reigned long enough for Brooklyn to wonder if threatening some of the most
powerful people on the planet was a good idea. Probably wasn’t.

The War Machine settled down at the table with great difficulty and some aid from the
humanoid robot beside him, then as he reached for some salad onto his plate, he said with a
hint of amused relief, "Ok, she'll survive around us. Welcome, new girl"

What?! Welcome?

Like a wave in the ocean, the Colonel's words sparked an array of smiles from everyone…
and then the bickering began.

"Why is she barefoot, Tony? She could get sick. I'll grab some shoes from my room" the girl
beside the billionaire said, quickly sending tendrils of red magic out a larger door on the other
side of the room while simultaneously introducing herself as Wanda Maximoff, as if such
displays of unnatural ability were something that could be considered mundane.
There was magic floating in this room...and no one seemed to mind it in the slightest.

While Brook did her best to not flinch away, Captain Rogers spoke up beside her, "Is she
hungry? I'll get another plate" and stood to do just that.

The Spider-man quickly motioned for her to take the empty seat beside him, and Brook was
in too much shock from all these friendly smiles that she just let her instincts walk her there.
This place was already messing with her mind so much that she'd actually agreed to sit next
to the guy whose death sentence she'd just signed hours ago. Back then she never would have
agreed to be seated between two heroes, one named after a spider and the other a bird.

Once she felt the cushion of the chair, that fog-like confusion in her mind cleared long
enough to see the Falcon serving her some fizzy drink and placing it beside her with a quiet
welcome to the team.

Just like that? These people were willing to let her become a part of Stark’s ramblings of a
next generation of heroes without knowing a thing about her? If she wasn't so nervous, Brook
might have just laughed at them for their naivety.

Unaccustomed to both people and well...acceptance, Brooklyn just sat there stiffly as the
Captain brought her a plate full of spaghetti, greens, and mashed potatoes before going back
to his seat at the head of the table opposite to Stark’s own place of honor.

Even when that was likely the best and most appetizing home-cooked meal Brook had likely
ever been served, she didn't dare take a bite, she just met Stark's eyes down the table in
confusion.

None of this made sense, none of this was supposed to happen. This was chaos, but not the
kind of disorder she was used to, the kind one could fight their way through.

The billionaire shot her a friendly smile that actually seemed somewhat genuine, then
gestured for her to dig into the food as if he hadn't kidnapped her.

In the following seconds, while Brook glanced at her mouthwatering untouched food, a pair
of black flats that were a little big for Brook settled onto her feet under the table. It had
startled the teen enough to yelp a little, but once she saw red wisps of magic returning back to
their owner, and the mutant girl smiling across the table, Brook swallowed her unease as best
she could.

She'd shake off the disgust of the magic later, preferably when she wasn't in a place full of
freaks. That had felt like all kinds of wrong, but it was also a reminder that Wanda Maximoff
would be an enemy she had to look out for the most. Brook had never fought a mutant before,
and she wasn’t sure if they bled the same as others at the table might. An unsettling thought.

"So newbie, what's your name?" the Falcon asked eagerly beside her with a friendly smile. It
was an effort to pry her eyes from his ridiculous outfit to attempt to answer.

She hadn't been the focus of attention for a long time. She’d blended in quietly to her
surroundings all these years, as used to being unassuming and invisible. Brook wasn't exactly
thrilled about being spoken to by these people in particular, but thankfully someone answered
for her.

It wasn't Stark or the Spider-man beside her.

"Rosa," a female voice said, emerging from the large doors before the table, waltzing into the
room with wet hair and a towel around her shoulders. Looking into those familiar green eyes,
Brooklyn saw someone she'd long despised yet owed her life to.

Even now, she wasn't sure which emotion was stronger.

Memories of a long flight emerged into Brook's mind. It was that woman, a younger version
of her at least, that had sat by Brooklyn’s side during the terrifying flight away from Russia.
It was that woman who gave a seven-year-old Brooklyn the set of clothes she’d kept for years
to come, the person who'd wiped the blood off her body and gave the girl the first decent
meal of her life. That woman who'd just walked into the room had been the only one who'd
been able to speak Brooklyn's mother tongue during those long hours after she’d left the Red
Room behind. She'd been the one who'd understood how scary it was to fly for the first time,
and who didn't balk at the nightmares that emerged every time Brook closed her eyes.

But that was also the woman who'd scolded the young girl on killing so many of her
American kin, the one who warned Brook to never kill again. Of course, the girl hadn't
followed that advice these past few years. Not after what Natasha had done once that plane
landed.

"Um," Tony interrupted the staring contest between both ex-assassins, glancing behind his
chair to shoot the famous Black Widow with a puzzled look, "her first name is Brooklyn"

At the other end of the table, the Captain happily said "I'm from Brooklyn!" causing a few
chuckles that filled the room's silence.

The Black Widow went to sit on the vacant empty seat before Brook, pushing up her black
sleeves to gather some food onto her plate despite the intense staring between both widows.
Though all other eyes were still on Brooklyn, the girl opted to ignore them, bowing her head
slightly towards Natalia, adding a quiet greeting that came from the respect and gratitude she
had for the woman, not the buried anger she tried to stifle as best she could.

"Sestra"

That brought a smile to her sestra's face, sending a wink Brook's way before turning back to
the crowd at the puzzled table full of heroes.

"What is going on here?" War Machine asked, pointing his fork between Brook and the
woman next to him, "What's a sestra?"

"It means sister in Russian" Wanda the Mutant said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes in
an accent that had to originate from Sokovia, "I had no idea you had a sibling Nat, or that
she'd be joining us"
The rest of the table erupted into questions and a need for clarification. Brook didn't bother
answering any of them as she kept her gaze on the only woman she figured might not kill her.

In the end, Stark's question took precedence.

"Why did you call her Rosa? I haven't given you her file yet. How do you know it's her
middle name?" he asked, looking a bit annoyed as he mumbled something about Natasha
always knowing everything somehow.

The former Russian looked towards Brook, raising an eyebrow. When Brook just shrugged,
the woman toured back towards Stark. She was already a prisoner here with the crowd of
people she least wanted to be around. What did it matter if they knew of her life, Stark
already did.

"I know her middle name because I gave it to her long ago" Natalia clarified, then added
Brooklyn's way, "I thought I'd never see you again, sestra. Aren't you supposed to be in New
Orleans?"

Brook scoffed, eyeing her plate like it was the most interesting thing in the world while
pushing its possibly poisoned contents around as she replied unenthusiastically, "Moved out a
long time ago"

"By yourself? What about Mr. and Mrs. Hughes-Jones?" the widow asked, voice a little bit
harsher than before. Not like Brook was being scolded, at least not entirely. Maybe the Black
Widow really didn’t like not knowing everything, and despite the surprising pang of betrayal
at now knowing the Widow hadn’t kept tabs on her life as well as SHIELD clearly did,
Brooklyn tried to at least enjoy the confusion on Natalia’s face.

Brook didn't bother hiding her annoyance at her when she answered towards the many pairs
of curious eyes at the table, "It's just me. I didn't need them"

After another pregnant pause, sestra's voice rose up again.

"If that’s the case, why didn't you contact me? I gave you that middle name for a reason" the
widow stated setting down her utensils with some force that had the Captain flinching.

The teen always remembered that day well even if she hadn’t dreamt of it like today, the one
when Brook was spared by the widow at the other side of the table. She remembered that
during the flight back to the U.S., when agents were setting up a new identity for her younger
self under Natalia’'s orders…her sestra had gifted her the name Rosa.

Natalia had said something about widows always sticking together, and if Brook ever needed
help, all she had to do was give SHIELD that name and Natalia would send proper aid. Of
course, then she left her in Brooklyn, abandoned in a foster care system for two years.

For those first two years away from the Red Room, Brooklyn realized something rather
painful. What would the amazing American Agent Natasha Romanoff want with her
anyways? How much could her sestra actually care if she just handed her over to a bunch of
strangers upon arrival to a new life?
Of course, Brooklyn didn't reply with that now, the last thing she needed was to start a fight
with the only person at the table whom she slightly trusted. Instead, the girl just shrugged like
it was nothing, like the past few years of her life hadn’t been a constant rollercoaster of
struggles she’d had to face alone .

"I didn't need your help either. I've been fine on my own" Brook replied coldly, making the
widow freeze across the table and the Spiderling beside the teen flinch.

Down the table, the scraps of artificial intelligence spoke up suddenly, eloquently with an
English accent she had not been expecting, "There is no record of you having a sister on any
SHIELD files, Miss Romanoff. I've checked them"

"That's because she isn't my sister, she's my sestra" Brook clarified, at last throwing caution
to the wind and taking a bite of her food if only to do something to take her mind off this
mess and attention. If she was going to get stuck in an interrogation, she might as well eat
before her stomach ate itself.

That first bite...damn it, she’d never admit it, but this was some good food. Even if it was
poisoned, she’d die happy at least.

Brooklyn used the food as an excuse to keep from talking, an unnecessary tactic considering
further questioning had been halted by another man emerging from the door, one she
recognized as the famous Hawkeye. One who was also rumored to be a SHIELD assassin,
but was better known as an expert marksman.

Great, now there were two assassins, one machine, two likely mutants, an ancient super
soldier, and some seemingly powerful heroes in her way. Brook took another bite of her
delicious mashed potatoes, half hoping it would poison her after all.

At this point, it was her only out that didn’t lead to a most unpleasant fight even Brooklyn
could admit she might very well lose.

The marksman was leaning against the door frame in a set of plain black pajamas with a
drumstick in hand, flipping it between his fingers as he asked Natalia, "Operation Eagle Claw
back in 07' right? This is the girl you spared?"

Sestra nodded, seemingly enough of an answer for the famous Clint to take a seat beside
Stark.

As he did, Brook noticed something interesting...an advantage at last.

He had something around his ankle, a metal device that flickered with every step. Now that
she paid attention, the Falcon was wearing one as well under the table.

Perhaps the heroes who stood against the law had not been spared so easily after all. Those
devices on their ankles were trackers, probably preventing them from leaving the building.
No wonder Stark needed her help and was pushing for a new generation of heroes. Half his
team was under house arrest. It was almost amusing enough for Brook to crack a smile, but
she steeled her emotions, not wanting to give any openings to these strangers.
Throughout dinner, both Stark and sestra took the time to explain Operation Eagle Claw to
those at the table, Natalia adding a brief part of her encounter with Brook into the story that
was not in Stark’s files, explaining who she was and what she'd done with vague details.
Surprisingly, the Black Widow didn't tell her team of the number of kills Brook had claimed
that day, only mentioning the young girl had helped the mission go successfully in an attempt
to escape.

Not that it helped ease anything, the Avengers were still staring at Brooklyn as if she'd grown
two heads. Like she was a piece to a puzzle that didn’t quite fit what they had been expecting.

Once she beheld enough of everyone's shocked expressions, Brook went back to her food, not
bothering to register the pity and shock in their eyes.

Thankfully, the conversation flowed along as Stark explained the more recent events, with
Spider-man adding onto their story of their first meeting back in that cursed alley days ago. It
took everything in Brooklyn's logical sense to not choke the hero with the tablecloth.

Once her reason for being here at this table was explained, with both Stark and Spider-man
leaving out the part where she almost jumped out the window to her death, the group was left
speechless, their food long forgotten. A shame really, this was some good food, almost
making up for the tragic loss of the greasy sandwiches back in her flat.

Like before, it was the Falcon who spoke to her first, with the reasonable question of, "So
you're an assassin?"

"Sam" Rogers scolded with a tired glare.

“She was trained by Natasha’s people and you don’t want to know more?” Sam pressed,
ignoring the pleading look from the Captain as he turned back to face Brook.

The teen didn't take as much offense to the question as Steven Rogers did. If anything, she
was glad they all knew who they were dealing with. It could get them to vote against her
involvement in this ‘Avenger’s youth program’.

"I am an assassin, best of my class, which is why I’m going to ask the question that's likely
simmering in all of your righteous minds. Are all of you sure you want me here?" she
challenged, hoping they would send her back home and that this nightmare could end at last.

She’d move out of the city, away from Stark’s radar. Hopefully, after this mess was sorted,
she’d never see anyone at this table ever again unless she was catching up on the news.

Surprisingly, a few people spoke up, and it wasn’t against her favor.

"I'm a trained assassin too," Hawkeye said after a sip of his wine, "so is Nat, obviously. We
all have our thing, but we tend not to judge our past or mistakes in this place" he said,
sending a special glare to Stark and Rogers, both of which seemed to be having a bit of an
inner conflict at the hidden jab Brook wasn’t privy to.
Registering the marksman’s words, Brooklyn couldn’t believe the absolute garbage that they
were. How could no one care!?

"Sestra," Natalia said, pulling Brook's attention her way, "I know the kind of thoughts in your
mind. I too found it difficult to leave all the stuff from the Red Room behind, but doing this
will be good for you. I'm just upset I didn't think of it before, bringing you here…then again,
I assumed you were living a normal life with that family of yours. Had I known you were
without a home and family, I would've brought you to us"

Brook set down the knife she’d been grasping violently, downed her fizzy water, and scoffed,
"No, Natalia. You and I both know you would've just dropped me off at another orphanage.
Besides, even if you had offered, this is the last place I want to be at"

The woman before her smiled sadly, "Neither did I once upon a time. But the world is not as
black and white as the Red Room taught you to think. Having a family and people to trust
isn't so bad, I've found I quite like it"

A hand collided with the table.

"Awww, I always knew you loved us! Even when you judo flip me during training insisting
otherwise" Stark said, receiving an eye roll from her sestra.

The spiderling beside Brook then raised his hand, as if he were in a classroom.

"Um, what exactly does the Red Room teach? Why would having a family be bad?" he
asked, his other hand almost reaching for Brook's when he noticed her fisting her hands atop
the table. He must have some brain capacity after all, because the masked hero thought better
of it, and retracted his hand under the table before it could make contact. Before she could
break each and every one of his fingers.

Brooklyn wasn’t about to explain the nightmare that was the Red Room, figured even Natalia
might not bother considering she always seemed so hell-bent on leaving anything of that
place behind once they got onto that plane and watched the Academy burn to cinders.

Then, a deep voice spoke up by the door Brook had emerged from behind the Captain’s chair.
Though she was sick and tired of the number of people intruding on the meal, this individual
was by far the worst-case scenario (tied with Stark if she was honest)...

Brooklyn almost went pale as she recognized that voice. One that was unmistakable.

"In the Red Room, it's every man for himself, boy. It's no wonder Miss Jones doesn't want to
be part of a team I didn't approve of. They didn’t teach teamwork where she grew up"

Brooklyn was screwed, and to her disappointment, no poison had kicked in at all. With a
sigh, the teen bit back the curses on the tip of her tongue as she glanced toward the new
arrival. Sure enough, her blood went cold at the confirmation that she was once again in the
presence of someone she firmly believed might actually arrest her.
 Could this evening get any better? She was now surrounded by the three people, four if one
counted the spiderling beside her, that she hated most. Never in her life had the instinct to
flee rather than fight become so prominent…yet Brooklyn could do nothing but grip the sides
of her chair and accept the cruel fate she’d stumbled upon.

Chapter End Notes

Just a fun fact: This book has a lot of little details that mean more than they seem.

For instance;

Brook's middle name, Rosa, is short for the name Rosalyn. In the Marvel comics,
Rosalyn is the name of Black Widow's daughter. I thought it would be nice to add that
since Brook and Nat have so much in common.

Brooklyn's last name has special meaning too, as well as her appearance, but you'll see
the pieces fit together later on.
 Fury's Clever Bargain
Chapter Notes

I know I mentioned these warnings in the tags, but this chapter has mentions of blood
and injuries.

Brooklyn POV-

The man in the black trench coat emerged from the double doors he’d thrown open without a
care, his trick boots echoing like thunder as he crossed the space towards the now quiet table.
He casually made his way across the other end of the table, leaning against the headrest of
Stark's chair while the billionaire laughed nervously.

The man's dark skin, shaved head, and unwavering presence were familiar, especially with
that eye patch of his.

How many people from her past could she meet in one day? Couldn't the universe give her a
break?, she thought somberly.

That lone eye met hers down the table suddenly, as if saying, I recognize you too.

Insufferable emo pirate...

Brooklyn wasn't enough of a liar to say she was not afraid of that man. He was the first
person Brook saw the day she stepped into foreign lands for the first time. As a seven-year-
old, she'd been intimidated by his large stature and array of weapons that perfectly
complimented his harsh attitude and loud voice. Now, nearly nine years later, Brook didn't
feel much better, especially knowing he was the director of SHIELD.

Even if SHIELD didn't have the power and influence it did once, she still knew Director Fury
could easily ruin her life with just the click of a button, so she remained quiet and tried to
avoid his gaze.

"Shouldn't you be with Banner in the labs Tony, instead of going out in search of strays?" the
director said, shooting a glare Brook's way she couldn't see, but definitely felt.

Again that killing instinct returned at the causal insult, no matter who he was. It was so easy
to get back into it, the reasoning as to why someone should be dealt with indefinitely. Though
she’d fled the future the Red Room had planned for her, Brook had reasoned that killing by
her own choice rather than command was part of that freedom she’d earned with her own
sweat and blood.

Killin Fury would be…troublesome, but he was much more of a nuisance alive.
Seemingly aware of how easily she fell back into that mental state, Natasha Romanoff stood
from her seat, motioning for Brook to rise up as well and follow her towards Director Fury.
Of course, the teen didn't want to do that, she wanted to stay as far away from him as
possible.

"Her adoptive family turned out unreliable, Nick. We'll keep her here for now, with your
permission" her sestra said, standing on Stark's other side, bravely facing the director with no
fear in her eyes.

Even so, the director didn't seem amused. His gaze was still on Brooklyn. Pushing her unease
aside, Brook steeled her nerves and decided to stop acting like a coward. She’d much rather
take advantage of the slight power of walking towards him than the Director stomping
towards her.

That didn’t make each step closer to Fury, Stark, and Natalia any easier.

"Or she could go home and promise not to cause trouble. Especially because she has a
geology essay to turn in on Monday and really needs to get back home" Brook suggested as if
nothing was wrong, keeping a few feet away from Fury as she dared to look up at his lone
eye.

The man stared her down for a few seconds, but it felt like hours to Brooklyn, yet she never
faltered. He was just a man, after all, one likely used to giving out orders from a desk rather
than enhancing skills on a battlefield. She'd faced worse.

Eventually, the director turned from the table, a move that would have let her breathe again if
it weren't for his next words.

"Follow me, Miss Jones. It seems you and I need to have a chat"

This was it. This was when she was going to get locked up or tortured. It would be by
SHIELD of all people, those that had gotten her out of Russia would not ensure she was not a
danger to their hero society. The irony did not escape her at that moment.

"Fury, c’mon, let the kid eat," Clint said, not bothering to mention Brook's plate was already
clear of food. He was trying to spare her, a complete stranger, but why?

Shockingly, other voices spoke up to her aid from their seats.

"Mr. Fury. Sir. Director. Maybe she should stay and eat" the Spiderling added, standing to go
to her aid, but 'Mr. I think dinosaur PJs are acceptable' stopped the boy with a hand wrapped
tightly around his arm. Even so, the Falcon didn’t look pleased by the change of events either.

Perhaps the most shocking was when Stark's chair screeched against the wooden floor. He
fixed his tie and tugged at his red sleeves rather quickly before standing beside Fury.

"Fine. Let's go talk" Stark breathed out casually, "I brought the kid in after all"

Out of all the people in the world, Brooklyn had never expected Tony Stark to try and defend
her. It was unsettling, to say the least, but what was more so was Fury's expression.
With a pointed look from him, the billionaire was set motionless beside Natalia.

"This is between Miss Jones and me. Sit your ass back down and I better not see any of you
trying to listen in" the director commanded, sending a similar look of compliance Brook's
way, one strong enough that she actually followed him outside the room without looking back
at the Avengers.

She wasn't wholly afraid of him, of course, but it seemed like the Director was eager to speak
to her rather than just throw her out. What topic could require discretion from those under his
command, Brook was curious enough to follow. Besides, it would be easier to fight for her
life if there was just one person in the room, not an armada of heroes.

Before the frosted doors closed behind her, she heard the man she’d dubbed their weakest
link, who everyone had addressed as Scott, say, "I think she's great. Reserved, but great"

Brook didn't hear if the others agreed or disagreed with that statement because she followed
Fury down an unknown hallway, towards a small office space four doors down a different
hall. Far from prying ears.

Based on the Iron Man portrait on the wall and the rock classics discs scattered across a low
table before a couch, Brook guessed this was some sort of office belonging to Stark himself.

Prosto ideal'no. Just perfect.

As the director settled atop the desk across the room like he owned it, the nervous teen could
only take a seat on the leather couch nearby if she wanted to keep her distance. Defeatedly,
she did just that, suddenly realizing she should've swiped a knife from the table as a
precaution.

Eyeing the trinkets scattered across the surface behind him, Fury laughed. But not a
reassuring and happy sound like the people down the hall, but something scarier.

"Are you going to tell them?" he asked.

No pleasantries, no greetings.

Brooklyn scoffed, "They know my past. Your Agent Romanoff just told them"

Unexpectedly, Fury turned back towards her, shrugging off his eye patch, revealing a cluster
of pure white and a harsh scar emerging from it. Why he removed it, she wasn't sure. It
could've been a tactic to enact fear into her, or perhaps he really wanted to take a look at her
with both eyes open.

The eye didn't scare her in the least, she'd seen and felt worse injuries. What did send a
tremor of fear down her spine were his next words.

"I meant, are you going to tell Stark you're his daughter?"

The world seemed to stop spinning for a while, enough that Brook had to lean back against
the maroon couch just to stay conscious. She eyed the foreign black flats on her feet very
closely in an attempt to keep the panic that was resurfacing at bay.

How did he know?! Of all people...

"Don't look like that" he said, "You really think I didn't know? When we recovered
documents from the Red Room Academy after its defeat, your file said it all"

Brooklyn shot up and made her way to the door they'd just come in from, almost daring to
lean against it for support. But even now, after all that was said, she wouldn't dare show that
kind of weakness in front of what she could now classify as an enemy. Fury's information
made him so.

It made her wonder if said information had been the only reason SHIELD had let her on that
plane, if Natalia had known and spared her because of it. Is that why Stark had come to fetch
her at last, deciding his flesh and blood finally had a purpose with enemies at their doorstep?

She couldn’t breathe right…

"Who else knows?" she asked softly. As menacingly as she could.

"Oh? Only me and Agent Romanoff, and neither of us bothered saying anything to anyone
once we went over all recovered files upon our return to New York. Back then, Tony wasn't
part of SHIELD or the AVENGERS initiative. Nowadays, I assumed you had a normal life
back in New Orleans, that was enough to put the information on the back burner"

Her breathing faltered a few times as she realized perhaps things were not as bad as she
thought. This could still be salvaged, and if she played her cards right, Tony Stark would
never know the secret she’d been trying to forget about since he showed up at her apartment.

She would beg. Brooklyn would get on her knees and beg for Fury to keep that information
to himself if need be. There was no room for pride when her greatest secret was on the line,
not when she was trapped here with Stark down the hall.

Realizing this, the director added, "I have no plans to tell Tony. He's going through a tough
patch with his girlfriend and the world is in disarray once again. It would be inappropriate to
bring it up now that he’s somehow brought you in himself without the slightest clue as to
your existence"

Knowing Fury held one of her darkest secrets made her furious…but also incredibly afraid
she was not accustomed to feeling until today since Stark showed up at her apartment. This
was a kind of torture she had not anticipated.

Could the Director keep his mouth shut? Would sestra? She barely knew them after all.

Closing her eyes, Brook pressed, "Then why bring me here? To threaten me? Lock me up?"

"Not necessarily," he replied, "We're here because Stark is right. These criminals making and
purchasing weapons more powerful than they could hope to control ARE dangerous, and
with SHIELD still licking its wounds and learning how to walk again, we do need someone
skilled enough not to get killed. Since Spider-man and Tony vouch for you, the team has
likely already decided to have you on board by now. They can be…very protective of their
own"

"But you don't want me here" Brook added for him, only to turn and see nothing but a calm
expression across his face, as if he hadn't just uttered one of her greatest secrets like it was
nothing.

Bastard.

The director stood, facing the window behind the large desk to look out into the world. Like
he didn't care he was turning his back to an ex-assassin, either out of arrogance or confidence
she would not strike, of that Brook wasn't sure.

"This idea of a dynasty of heroes for the world...Earth needs that, it's something I've always
believed in. Something the founders of SHIELD hoped for long ago" he explained, "Tony is
right about needing the next generation who will hopefully leave the world in better shape
than we have"

"Then go find them" Brook argued, hand on the cold handle behind her, ready to leave this
cursed compound as she added, "I don't want to be around Stark, and I don't want to be an
alleged hero either"

A deep laugh echoed around the room.

"This is the life you were trained for, girl" Fury said while keeping his back to her, "You were
trained to be a spy, a soldier. Why not do it for the right reasons this time? I think it's your
destiny to do so, why fight it?"

There it was again. That cursed word.

Destiny.

She'd had enough of hearing people tell her what she was meant to do, what her life was
worth. Ivan had burdened her that way for what felt like a lifetime, and now that she finally
had some semblance of freedom, suddenly Fury wanted to tell her what life was supposed to
look like?

Brooklyn laughed at the words, a dark chuckle someone her age should not possess.

"I didn't take you as the kind of man who believed in superstitions like destiny. Tell me,
exactly how is me being here some sign of predetermined fate?" she inquired. Challenged.

The director turned back to face her, pointing to the SHIELD symbol on the arm of his coat
as if it held all the answers.

"You still have your head stuck in the Red Room, even after all this time. You think that's all
you come from?" he said, "Did you know that your grandfather, Howard Stark, was a founder
of SHIELD? Your father is not an agent, but he is an Avenger under the same program. This
is in your blood"
Her grandfather? Of course, she had grandparents, but Brook had never bothered to think
about the older generations of her genealogy she'd never met. It appeared that aside from
being a descendant from what she assumed to be a long line of assassins, and maybe a bunch
of rich and stuck-up men who made weapons for a living...she was also part of this, a flawed
program that was trying to do a little bit of good in a world changing too quickly for comfort.

A futile effort perhaps.

But the teen had been born to be different, to be the opposite of what Howard, Tony, and Fury
stood for. One sweet speech wasn't gonna change that, so Brook kept her hand on the door
handle and added, "I'm not one of your shiny heroes, Fury. It would do more harm than good
for both of us to pretend otherwise"

"About half the people in that dining room are criminals, you know? Yet they fight for the
right thing, just like you" he added.

Of course, that was a load of crap. Brooklyn had never fought for anything aside for herself
since she left Russia behind.

"I don't know if this is the right thing to say, but you do know I've killed many men and
women these past few years right? I'm not little Miss America, or the spider with no fangs
you have a few rooms down"

Fury, to her horror, didn't seem surprised by her words. Since the photos on her SHIELD file
were rather new, Brook assumed they'd know of her... clean-up work...and she'd been correct.
A bargain she wasn't sure she should be pleased to have been correct about.

She should have expected it because, for a time, Brook had feared the Red Room finally
tracked her down. The feeling of eyes on her became too much that she stayed home as much
as possible, writing fake parent notes to be excused from school until it blew over. Turns out,
it may have been SHIELD all along. Of course, he'd know all about her, keeping tabs on a
future danger.

Fury silently went over to a monitor on the desk, typing away until he turned the screen her
way. On the small thin monitor was…the footage of the battle of New York. More
specifically, the footage Stark had shown her from Manhattan’s darkest day, footage focused
on her own actions rather than the educational nonsense they showed at school to encourage
patriotism.

Her younger self was running around the streets, trying not to get herself killed as she fought
the intruders on Earth. Not an enemy or wound could stop her despite being one meal away
from starvation at the age of ten.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're saving people here, right?"

Just as he said that, young Brook, exhausted and bloody, ran over to two little kids holding
hands under a phone booth. They were crying, covered in ashes and rubble dust. When two
Chitauri dismounted from one of their flying ships and saw the feeble children no older than
five, they quickly put their weapons away and stalked towards them.
Despite how long ago that had been, Brooklyn remembered it perfectly, down to every
minute detail. She knew her younger self would jump over the cluster of abandoned cars in
her way, and that she'd grab a discarded alien weapon in passing from a corpse, one likely
killed by the Avengers.

When the aliens were no more than a few feet from the little ones, Brook fired at them from
atop a red car whose roof was slightly dented and covered in red human blood. Such factors
didn't affect her shots, and the two inhuman intruders fell heavily to the ground.

The next images, Brook also remembered. When she went up to the crying children despite
the battle still going on. At the time, she hadn't been sure how to calm the kids down
properly, so she'd asked for their names. The little blonde girl was named Agatha, and the
brunet boy in her arms was named Bo.

Even when she couldn't hear the audio from the conversation, Brook recalled how she told
them her own name, one she was still getting used to at the time...but they clung to that
information in their fear.

After a few compliments towards their dirty clothes and some sweet smiles which she’d
calatonged as manners people normally used, Brooklyn had managed to gain the kids' trust.
She'd taken them to one of the open buildings nearby, a small ice cream shop whose windows
were shattered completely.

Brook had ushered the kids through the opening and into the back room where she'd stashed
all the other lost children she'd stumbled upon. Though the video only had recordings of the
main room of the shop, the teen recalled how she'd opened the door where the twenty or so
children were hugging each other or covering their ears.

After Agatha and Bo went inside, Brooklyn had cursed herself senselessly for risking some
time to gather a few buckets of ice cream from the front, along with some spoons and
colorful toppings. She'd gathered as much as her little body could carry and left the supplies
with the children.

She'd never had ice cream in her life, something that carried on to her sixteen-year-old self,
but back then that gamble of its appeal had proved useful. Once she’d seen the young faces
light up with glee while they began eating with gusto, Brook offered them another
kindness… the same instructions as last time she’d dropped off kids.

"Place the chair how I taught you against the door. Don't open it to anyone unless they knock
five times slowly. And try to be very quiet"

The older kids (none older than 9) had nodded enthusiastically, promising to do just that.
Then she'd gone back out there and continued to fill the back rooms of the ice cream shop
with as many lost children as possible.

Fury sped up the footage following her around that day. He'd stopped when her young self
stood atop one of the broken overpasses, sandwiched between two abandoned cars as she
watched Iron Man fly through the portal above his looming tower.
"This is what a hero does, Miss Jones. If you aren't one, then why did you do it? Why bother
risking your life for those innocents out on the streets?"

She'd asked herself that a lot when the invasion started, never using the same excuse twice
until it all clicked inside her head a few days later.

"I wasn't doing anything at first" Brook confessed, "I watched people die while I hid in the
dirty alley where I lived"

Men and women were being shot down out there, but little Brook remained still. Not
necessarily afraid, just uncaring to the chaos outside. She'd seen enough death in her life that
she could have slept soundly despite the chaos.

"Then I saw a handful of aliens corner a few kids at the mouth of my alley. Their..." she took
a deep breath, sliding down the door until she was seated on the carpeted floor, "It reminded
me of the Red Room, when the instructors cornered and killed sestras, the kids who weren't
worth their lives"

Fury said nothing, just stared down at her, silently encouraging her to continue.

"Shit…there were times in the Red Room when I imagined intervening, stopping the killings
just because they seemed…unfair. Seeing those kids like that during the war made me realize
it was the same circumstance. In the eyes of the aliens, their lives were worthless. I was just
doing it for myself really."

So she’d broken a nearby broom leaning against the back door of a business, and used the
sharp edges to wedge it between the armor of the Chitauri, right on their necks while they
were busy playing with their prey. After that, she took the three kids to the ice cream shop
next door...and then she couldn't stop. Not until the battle was over hours later, until her body
finally gave out after telling a few officers where she'd put the kids.

Fury turned off the screen and slowly walked towards her, eyeing the framed magazine
covers along the cream walls rather than looking at her. Each one offering more praise for
Iron Man or Stark Industries than the last.

"I have half a room full of criminals in there, all of which are being prosecuted for fighting
for others. I had to fight tooth and nail to even get them out of holding cells, and if it wasn't
for this weapon issue, they might still be there. Politics are fucking messy and complicated,
but my team's hearts were in the right place, always have been. All of them have killed and
made mistakes, and none of them are what the world intended them to be"

Natasha was supposed to be a Russian spy, Ivan's best.

Rogers had been nothing more than a circus show for propaganda before his glory days.

There was even word that Miss Wanda Maximoff was with Hydra once upon a time, but that
was merely news gossip.
Stark…she supposed Ivan had never intended for the spoiled billionaire to become a
renowned hero either.

Yet they all became heroes somehow. People with complicated pasts that were worshiped as
gods like Superman as he flew across the sky.

Is that what Fury intended, for Brook to become another criminal with a hero's mask? Was it
even fair to say so about the others?

The director kneeled down before her to finally make proper eye contact, putting his eye
patch back in place before saying, "If those people out there get their hands on these
weapons, many kids like the ones you saved will die. But this time, not even your training
will be enough to stop them. Wouldn't it be best to do it before they can gain that power?"

The designs she'd seen earlier popped into her head. Whole cities could be destroyed with
some of them, and Fury was right in saying that there would be difficulty in stopping them
then. But spending time around the one man she swore to stay away from... was it worth it?

"I don't want to be another puppet to be ordered around, Director. I think even with half your
team out, or on probation, you will stop the bad guys just fine" Brooklyn said, standing up
and twisting the door knob with her back to Fury, "I'm not a hero, nor do I want to be. That's
final"

It was. Because despite all the success stories from people like her sestra, Brooklyn just
wasn’t cut out for a life under the Avengers banner. She just…couldn’t.

"Seriously? Then would you prefer being in a cell a hundred feet underwater in an
inescapable base with no hope of freedom?" Fury asked.

Brooklyn paused her movement.

Was that a threat? He was going to lock her up?

Though she did her best to hide the shudder going through her body, Brook was not able to
mask it completely. Being underground again...

"You can't arrest me," she said, calling his bluff with masked confidence, "Even for all the
people I killed, I'd just go to a regular juvenile prison for a few years after a public trial. I
could even argue my actions in the Red Room weren't my own, that I was brainwashed and
misled"

When she turned to gloat, Fury was already smirking down at her, like Brook had just said
exactly what he expected her to and thus falling into a trap she couldn't see just yet.

"Did you know that among those drunks, rapists, and low lives you've killed recently, two of
them were high-ranking officers for SHIELD? The case is still open and currently not being
investigated since you covered your tracks so well that the case went cold" he said, "But I got
rid of some very interesting footage you missed. I could always show it to the new council
who is eager to prove their worth. They will most definitely lock you up in our prison
instead"

That bastard. He knew about the killings, all of which she'd mostly done in self-defense. Now
he was using it against her. It pained her to admit that was a clever move.

To make matters worse, Brooklyn couldn't even think of who he was talking about, that's how
many male idiots she’d encountered. But Fury’s face was so certain of the fact that it had to
be true. He did have an excuse to lock her up underground after all. One she'd never seen
coming or even considered a future consequence.

Somehow, she'd already gotten involved with SHIELD without meaning to...

The man appeared smug by her silence, especially as he added "So you will stay and train to
become a proper agent and Avenger so we can stop these motherfuckers, and in return, I'll
keep my mouth shut not just about your origins, but your crimes. Sounds good?"

Brook despised the idea of going back to a Red Room environment more than anything, and
somehow this man knew it. He had her cornered not just with blackmail, but fear.

Maybe the weapon's problem could be solved quickly, then she could live life as it was
before. Far away from people like Stark, Fury, and the Spiderling. Far from the Avengers and
their disgusting lives and even further from SHIELD prisons. Far from the sestra that had
already abandoned her once before.

Brook could try to run, but this building was far too crowded and guarded for her to even
stand a chance. Killing Fury right here and now would only get her locked up faster. So
despite her better judgment and rationality…she listened to the facts and nodded, sealing her
fate as she sent a thousand silent curses to the universe and its pathetic fate.

Now instead of training to become a murderer for a few, she'd become a killer for the many.
Not a huge life improvement, but better than an underground prison. Brooklyn was
considering asking Fury just what that would entail when loud crashing noises echoed from
outside.

Fury bolted in alarm, leaving the room as she wordlessly followed.

When they opened the doors to the once crowded dining room, the place was empty, with
chairs discarded all over the place and glasses and plates shattered on the ground. The
commotion wasn't in this room at all, but in the welcoming area...

"Motherfucker…" the director whispered, and Brook was content to agree as she stared at the
mess before them.

Fury listened to a report in the com device in his ear, and Brook could only hear muffled
noises from said earpiece as they rushed towards the living room area she'd arrived from.

Once past the fogged doors, Brook walked into a room at war.
The large window on the left side of the room was shattered completely, its red curtains
pooling on the floor like mountains of blood. That should've been impossible since her earlier
assumption of those windows being bulletproof was unquestionably correct.

Nearby, the sound of Hawkeye thrown across the room caught her attention amidst the chaos.
The man landed right on the large TV, cracking it before he collapsed on the soft pile of red
fabric. It took a few seconds for Brook to realize a large, bright light had made contact with
the now non-existent side table Clint had used as armor... and it was coming from the
stranger a few feet away, carrying one of the glowing weapons she'd been brought here to
stop. Alien weapons.

Brook quickly realized she had two choices; Use the chaos and commotion to escape, or fight
back.

Remembering Fury's blackmail from earlier, the choice became rather easy. At the very least
fighting was something she was familiar with, a familiar act in an ocean of unimaginable
circumstances. Fighting a common enemy with the Avengers…you couldn’t make that up.

The teen stepped away from Fury and scanned the area for the nearest fight, which just so
happened to involve her sestra. Her brief hesitation only lasted a second, a short internal
battle in which she decided to suck up whatever grievances she had. Feelings had no place in
battle.

Two men in black masks were firing from some alien weapon fashioned like a rifle right at
the Black Widow. Wherever the red shots hit, whether it be the wall of hung frames behind
Natasha or stray decorations in the room, the objects would explode rather violently.

One could only imagine what that would do to a human.

Brooklyn ran further away from the Director without bothering to look back, remembering
how little she cared about his life after all his threats. Fury had a gun in hand, he had an
easier start than Brook at least. She still felt his eyes on her from a distance, probably the
only reason why the girl didn't go off on a killing spree to not obtain further punishment.

Brook didn't care much to find out what that enhanced weapon could do to a human body as
she grabbed onto a nearby side lamp and threw it at the aggressor closest to her sestra. The
glass object landed right above his brow, allowing the Black Widow to fire a clean shot from
a tiny pocket pistol she must have kept on hand at all times.

Natalis turned back briefly to give Brook a nod of thanks just as the teen round kicked the
other intruder who'd become distracted by the display.

Unused to being thanked, she just turned back to where Rhodey, the War Machine, was doing
his best to fight a masked woman with an electric-looking whip. With his walking braces and
only a pocket gun in hand, the military man seemed to be struggling.

Fantastic, now she was saving cripples too.

Brooklyn didn't hesitate to leap onto the couch before her, fighting the sinking of her feet as
she threw a pillow at the lady. Now that the masked figure was distracted, Brook used that
chance to jump down beside the War Machine, rushing forward to sweep her legs across the
criminal's feet. Once the woman went down with a thud, Brook quickly wrapped her hands
around the criminal's neck and pinned the thrashing wrists with her knees. As Brook put
pressure on the tenderness of the aggressor's tan skin, she watched the woman's blue eyes
widen in shock and pain behind her mask.

After a quick and precise push against her neck's weak points, the criminal stopped fighting,
and her body went limp under Brook's.

Trusting Rhodey was doing swell by now, Brook didn't waste a second in grabbing one of the
woman's red-hued whips. Even with her lack of experience using one of these weapons,
Brooklyn understood the mechanics of one from all of her childhood punishments.

Swinging the thing back slightly, Brook used minimal force to guide the red light towards the
masked man Stark was in the process of punching.

Stark had barely avoided the criminal’s gunshot just before her weapon made contact.
Thankfully, the red laser whip latched onto the criminal's feet, and Brooklyn yanked the thing
back enough for the guy to be swept off his feet, sending him crashing onto the ground.

At the sound of his nose breaking, Stark took a decorative vase from behind him and let it
crash onto the guy's face.

Once that body went limp like the other intruders Book had encountered, she unwillingly
made brief eye contact with Stark, who was staring at her with wide eyes, even though his
brow was bleeding and the conflict had not yet ceased.

Curse Fury for reminding her this man was her father.

That thought made her realize, Brook had just saved her father's life...

"Nice move, kid!" he said above the sounds of battle around them with a smile.

Brook ignored the foreign feeling of parental approval, discarding the dangerous weapon
before she could accidentally kill herself with it. The teen was too busy contemplating what
to answer to do much of anything. Brook could go with, Can't believe Iron Man needed help.
It seemed witty enough, but the sudden arms around her middle yanking her into the air, cut
her words short.

In seconds, she was in Spider-man's arms, swinging above everyone with a sinking feeling in
her stomach.

How had he gotten to her so fast!?

Brooklyn noticed his web was attached to one of the many chandeliers, and just when it
seemed to collapse under their weight, he let it go. Brook nearly screamed her vocal cords off
when they swung freely in the air, but the feeling of the wall against her back knocked the air
out of her lungs before she could. Now caged between Spider-man and the wall a good
twenty feet off the floor, Brook reluctantly clung her arms around the hero's neck. He must
have had some sticky substance on the gloves of his hands and feet, because that was the only
thing keeping both of them from falling back toward the ground.

"What the hell did you do that for!?" Brook screamed into his ear.

"Sorry! You were seconds away from being shot!" he replied, shifting his body slightly to
look back at the commotion on the ground along with Brook.

Thankfully, no one on the hero side seemed too injured, and all the criminals in back suits
were restrained, easily defeated by the unarmed Avengers. Not that she cared for any of them,
it was just a relief to see the news wouldn't be buzzing about the death of an Avenger for
weeks to come.

When she turned her gaze over to the spot Spider-man had swept her off her feet (literally),
Brook was horrified to see burn marks on the wooden floor.

That damned brat HAD saved her life.

Of course, that didn't mean the urge to kill him was gone. If anything, It seemed to multiply.
Quickly untangling her arms away from his body, Brook did her best to lean as close to the
wall as possible, hating the way her legs were still wrapped around his middle.

The fall was about twenty feet. If she let go, she could possibly live.

Yes, the fall may not kill her, but the sudden burning on her stomach would. Looking down
between their bodies, Brook saw liquid seeping around her black dress, right under her rib
area. With her choice of wardrobe, it was difficult to tell she was bleeding, but now that she
could not only see it but feel it...

"Shit" she whispered, making the hero before her shift his gaze back from the chaos below.
Following her gaze, Spider-man began to freak out, which was not helping at all. He tried to
use one of his hands to cover the wound, and under different circumstances, Brook might
have been impressed that he'd be able to hold both their weight with only a hand...

But for the third time that day, the dizziness returned, for once not out of emotional overload,
but pain she hadn't felt in quite some time.

Hopefully, that shot had missed her vital organs, that much she knew. A useless thought to
have as her red hair pooled before her, further obscuring her vision of the others down below,
who were too busy catching their breaths or screaming in annoyance to notice anything.

Once she realized the blood loss was making her weak, Brook sent one last curse Spider-
man's way before she felt her body lean to the side. Thanks to the hand he removed from the
wall, Brooklyn began what would be a most painful descent towards the ground.

The last thought in her mind should have been a curse at life, or at the hero who couldn't even
save her on time. It wasn't a prayer to a deity or anger towards the bastard who shot her.
Instead, the most ridiculous things popped up in its place.

Did she leave the stove on back home? And, of course, the ultimate regret of never finding
out the name of that upbeat song from the supermarket.

With that, the world went black, and Brooklyn welcomed that darkness like an old friend. She
had no loose ends, no tethers to the world. There was a distant glimmer in the darkness, a
reminder she’d at least gotten to meet her insufferable father, saved his life instead of ending
it as Ivan would’ve wanted, which she supposed was the first and only act of heroism she’d
ever performed in life.

But that did little to change the fact that Stark had been right, her life had been empty, and
despite having renounced the ways of the Red Room long ago, like any assassin…nobody
would mourn her death.
 Secrets Within Blood

Brooklyn POV-

If that insufferable beeping didn't stop soon, Brook would have to reluctantly open her tired
eyes and kill whatever it was that insisted on troubling her uncomfortable sleep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

When said noise didn't stop, the girl's murderous eyes shot open, only to notice she was in an
unfamiliar room. The beeping noise wasn't her alarm back in that desolate apartment she
called home, it was a machine, and the beeping was her vitals.

Vitals because she was injured and had passed out. Not died.

They’d actually bothered to try and save her life…

Brook blearily glanced at the three IVs connected to her arms, and that quickly, she decided
the hospital look was not sitting well with her. Though she'd gotten hurt many times during
her dismal childhood, she'd never been in a hospital…a place to heal rather than hurt. Even
when she’d never beheld such a place, Brooklyn knew this place wasn't one either.

The IVs were familiar though, and they were enough of an unpleasant reminder of the past
that she debated ripping them off, but restrained herself from doing so in fear of triggering an
alarm.

Brook just had to convince herself that this wasn't the monthly medicine she was given as a
child once she'd turned a certain age. Well, medicine implied good intentions, to this day she
wasn't sure if she'd been given medicine to ensure she stayed alive or if it had been something
to teach her strength against torture. Ivan had never bothered with explanations, and no
widow ever asked for any.

This substance, whatever it was, didn't hurt like the medicine from her youth. So it likely
wasn't poison or radiation like whatever Ivan might’ve deemed a good challenge to see who
could live or die beyond their limits.

With groggy eyes, Brooklyn still managed to take a decent look around the empty space,
which honestly looked more like a lab than a hospital room. Her half of the room was filled
with medical supplies and her single bed. But the other looked more like a lounging area, a
laboratory of sorts with tables full of beakers, microscopes, and unidentifiable metal
machines scattered around.

Remembering her injury, Brook lifted the gray blanket from her body, then shifted her soft
hospital gown to see a large bandage covering her stomach with a light hue of red.

She'd been stitched up then.

Beside her on the screen, Brook's vitals seemed stable, and the IVs were labeled as
anesthetics and nutrients to help her heal quicker. Nothing too serious, and likely the reason
the pain was nonexistent. The small table beside her cot had a silver tray with bloody gauzes
and tweezers, some of which were not washed yet and were practically dripping blood onto
the surface.

The sight of it made her smirk. Her injury must have been quite the hassle to deal with then.

Taking a look past the depressing room space, Brook realized she couldn't see past the tinted
glass wall to her right. The one to her left was plain, with no mirrors that could suggest this
was an observation room.

To her relief, Brook wasn't cuffed to the bed, but her cheap jewelry WAS missing, revealing
the not-so-faded cuff marks on her left wrist. They weren't as bad as nine years ago, had
turned into a light set of scars that wrapped around her wrist, most would likely never heal
properly…from being cuffed to her bed every night since she could crawl had done a number
to the skin. She'd accepted that truth long ago, their constant presence, enough to start
wearing bracelets to cover them to avoid their detection by others, even if the sight of them to
her was nothing but an annoyance.

A reminder that sometimes burned like a brand.

If she stared at them long enough as she had just now, her mind would drift off to that place
in Belarus. Brook covered them up with the blanket and collapsed back on the bed, but it had
been too late.

The feeling of the cold seeping in through the underground stone walls…shouts and screams
from sunset to sunrise. Even the ache of her feet after ballet training along with the pungent
smell of cigars from her stone-faced instructor suddenly turned so real just by looking at
some old scars.

But here, the room was warm, quiet, and smelled more like oil and the metal tang from the
stainless steel in the room...and something sweet too.

Sure enough, there was a bouquet of Hyacinth blooms on the table at the end of her bed. Its
sweet scent hit her nostrils with familiarity, like the flowers her upstairs neighbor grew on his
window ledge. But this wasn't her apartment, and this wasn't the kind of place she should get
attached to.

Remembering she was still somewhere in the Avengers compound, Brook hoped no one had
seen...all the scars...the other markers of her old life. Unlikely hopes of course, whoever
changed her into her hospital gown had to have seen them. It's not like they were hard to
miss.

Another thing to rejoice about. Perfect.

The sound of a sliding door opening brought Brook out of her thoughts. One of the glass
panels from the tinted glass wall slid away slowly to reveal…a man in a lab coat. He had a
tablet in hand, staring at it intently as he came in, pulling his glasses back into place as he
scrolled through its contents.

Only a fool wouldn't know who that man was, there were posters of him in her science class.

The famed Doctor Banner. Aka the guy who exposed himself to gamma rays. Aka, the Hulk.

Brooklyn wasn't afraid of much, things like fear could easily be overlooked at times with her
training from the Red Room. Fear had only come back into her system recently upon seeing
Tony Stark in her home, and talking to Fury. It seemed her years of peace were over, because
that feeling returned once again, an emotion just as disgusting and foreign as it had felt
earlier.

The idea of the Hulk beating her to death wasn’t pleasant, especially when she was currently
incapacitated. Hence the fear. If a widow had no fangs with which to fight…she was
useless…not better than collateral damage.

When the Doctor turned away from the screen and noticed she had woken up, he stumbled
back slightly, hip hitting the edge of a rolling table. That startled her a bit, but his sweet smile
and shy mannerisms seemed so at odds with the behavior she expected from the Hulk.

It lessened some of her apprehensiveness.

Still, years ago, she'd been three blocks away from his other identity during the battle of New
York. Brook had a front-row seat to the guy smashing a car onto five chitauri. That image had
stayed with her, played in the back of her mind now.

Perhaps Brooklyn should be friendly, or at least as kind as she cared to be with strangers so
she wouldn't trigger the green monster. It was myth that anger triggered the change, and as
much as he enjoyed scientific experiments, this was not one she wanted to delve into.

"Oh, you're awake! I'm Bruce Banner, I'm just here to check on you" Dr. Banner said,
pushing his specs back in place as he neared the monitors beside her bed while he asked by
what must be instinct, "Do you feel any pain?"

The irony didn’t escape her. One of the most deadly things in the world was her doctor…the
greatest machine of destruction here to heal her.

She forced a tight smile.

"That depends, do you mean physical, or emotional. Passing out in front of the Avengers
really bruised my already hurt ego" Brook replied, earring a chuckle from the man and a
painful laughing attempt from her that was more out of relief than anything. No green
monster in sight.

After scrolling through the numbers and charts on the glass screen, the doctor hummed in
satisfaction. He moved a few dials on her meds, and asked to see her wound. Still worried he
could become upset from her refusal, Brook reluctantly lifted her gown and let Dr. Banner
inspect the bandaging.
If she'd known days ago that the poster of the man facing her desk in Physics class would
have patched her up, she might have laughed and left the classroom. Probably would've left
the country too.

"This seems to be healing nicely. In a few days, you should be back to running and fighting
with no problem" he said, but Brook caught what he truly meant to say. She was in no shape
to do that now.

After putting her gown back in place and pulling the thin blankets back atop her body, Brook
couldn't help but ask, "What was that thing that hit me? The laser from the weapons?"

Dr.Banner frowned, tapping his tablet against the bed as he dejectedly said, "Tony is
analyzing the weapons now. But he thinks the alien technology allowed for quicker
evaporation and expansion for the surface of the weapon, causing powerful precise beams"

To fire so many of those concise beams at once that she hadn’t even seen it coming, the
weapon would have to withstand higher temperatures. Like an automatic weapon, it should
be able to harvest excess energy released from a previous discharge to feed the new
ammunition round into the chamber…if it even had limited ammunition to begin with.

"Maybe you should be helping Tony then. I've never met anyone aside from Nat and Clint
that knew so many details about weapons" Banner said, scratching his neck nervously.

Had she whispered her thoughts aloud? If Brook were somewhere else, she might’ve felt
embarrassed by her rambling before such a legendary scientist.

"Trust me, the last thing I want is to spend more time with your friend," Brook said, leaning
back against her pillows to at least try to feign the illusion of peace. As if she weren’t still
plotting the fastest way to leave the compound.

Again, she heard that nervous shuffling from the doctor, and the tapping of his tablet against
the bed increased, almost going in sync with the beeping of her heartbeat.

"I know it's not my place," he began, causing Brook to tilt her head to get a better look at his
face. His nervousness was making her nervous.

She’d been expecting something along the lines of, don't strain your injuries, or perhaps
SHIELD security is guarding the door to make sure your assassin ass doesn’t try and stab us
in the back. Then again taking one look at the dorky man dressed in a lab coat and lavender
collared shirt, perhaps he wouldn’t have cursed.

The doctor’s actual words ended up spiking the beeping of her heartbeat, an indicator of her
anger.

“Maybe you should be more...willing to spend time with Tony" he's said, earning a confused
frown from her, "He's a great person once you get to know him, and I'm sure once he finds
out-"

Beep Beep Beep Beep

"What are you talking about?" she interrupted, running a hand through her auburn locks as
she inspected the man hesitating to answer. Whatever words he wanted to say must’ve gotten
lodged in his throat, and Brooklyn almost hoped he’d choke on them.

Eventually, he turned back to his tablet, scrolling through a few things until he handed the
device over to her. She didn’t take it, and Bruce smiled fondly at the action as if it were some
inside joke, before placing the screen on her lap.

It depicted two sets of letters that stretched along the screen. The letters themselves seemed
to hold no specific pattern, but the top and bottom sets looked familiar.

What was this? Short DNA strands? Was this his way of talking to her, through science?
Brooklyn had been right, Bruce Banner may be the indestructible Hulk, but beyond that he
was just a massive nerd.

"Why am I staring at 24 markers of DNA?" she hesitantly asked, scrolling through the
images lazily.

Dr.Banner pulled over a chair by her side, careful of the noise as he did so. Once he settled
down with a tired huff, he pointed between the sets.

"Sixteen of those markers match," he explained.

"Duh. But why show me this? I'm bored, but not enough to do any sort of homework right
now" Brook replied, but still went back and examined the markers closely. Something about
this wasn’t settling well with her.

If her Red Room…and Adelphi High education did not fail her, the matching markers were
specific loci. Meaning the two sets of DNA were related. But why would...

Neveroyatno. Unbelievable.

Brook couldn't be bothered to mask her expression as she stared wide-eyed towards the
doctor, whose own gaze was full of pity. Not just that, but there was something akin to worry
and relief amidst those caramel-colored eyes.

"When they brought you in, you'd lost a lot of blood" Banner explained, "The SHIELD
records they had on you didn't specify a blood type so I had to run a quick test to replenish
your supply. A good thing since you're O negative, if I'd given you anything else it wouldn't
have worked and you might very well not be here"

She would’ve preferred that alternative right about now.

There was a ringing in her ears, and for the hundredth time since she'd had the absolute
misfortune of meeting Spider-man in that dark alley, her mind went into overdrive. A rush of
commonly unfelt emotions she’d stifled for years juts barreling into her all at once.

"After I was done, FRIDAY submitted the results to your SHIELD file since you’ll be
working with us from now on. When the information updated, they were archived with the
medical files we have on hand for the other Avengers...and the computer caught something
funny with the DNA samples"

This wasn't happening. She almost considered begging for the first time in her life, begging
Bruce Banner to keep his mouth shut. She’d heard the words from Fury already, to have it be
said to her twice…only this time it would be much different.

"You know then," she said breathlessly, "The other strand of DNA next to mine was his,
right?"

Banner nodded. No need to explain who the other person was.

Even though she'd known since she was young...the words still hit her hard. It was one thing
to be told by a room of assassins that your father was Anthony Stark, but it was another
matter entirely to have DNA evidence that you were.

She'd been hoping it was a lie for quite some time, just motivation for a small child to carry
out her mission back in the day. It wouldn’t have surprised her if Fury had gone along with
the bluff to get Brook to do what he wanted.

Having this as the undisputed truth…it made the meal she’d had with the Avengers churn in
her stomach. Brooklyn's mind was swimming with questions, all crashing amongst her
thoughts like wild waves during a storm.

"Does Mr. Stark know of this information?" she asked, her voice shaking just slightly.

Dr. Banner took off his thin-rimmed glasses and began rubbing his tired eyes.

"You knew, but he doesn't? I thought Tony was just keeping it out of SHIELD's files, that he
was pretending not to know you" he replied, murmuring things to himself as he too attempted
to sort through the information between them.

"My conception wasn't planned if that's what you're referring to," Brook said, turning back to
the tablet, scrolling up to see that her name truly was on that file.

Well, her words were mostly correct.

At least one of the people involved hadn't planned on it, she thought.

Exhausted, Brook stared up at the ceiling and let out a half-hearted chuckle. It was rather
comical really. Brook had spilled so much blood during her life, it was only fair blood would
be her downfall.

"Can you delete this?" she asked while still trying to find ways to access the file herself.
Hacking into SHIELD would take time and equipment she did not have. Perhaps if someone
with access just helped her out...

"FRIDAY, our A.I., already uploaded it. I'm afraid that it will only be a matter of time until
Tony sees it. FRIDAY may not mention it, but he's been constantly checking up on your
condition since you were brought in. He'll see it soon enough" Banner said with a sigh.
This wasn't happening.

What would he do once he found out? Knowing he had a daughter after all these years might
make him angry. Knowing he had an assassin as a daughter might...

"I need to leave," she said resolutely, making to stand out of the bed until Dr. Banner stopped
her with gentle hands on her shoulders. Brook squirmed against his hold as the panic
continued to build up in her mind

"You can't stand right now!" he said exasperatedly, "You need to wait until the IVs are empty,
and even then it will hurt too much to walk"

Brooklyn laughed, trying to wiggle out of his hold as she spat back, "I've felt worse"

With a final push, Brook was set back on the bed, but still not handcuffed. Banner’s eyes
froze her on the spot, because in his crazed panic, the rims of them had changed color…a
faint emerald she recognized from that battle in New York, from the news in the consequent
years.

"I can only imagine…Nat changed your clothes earlier, showed me your back, asked me if I
could try and heal any of the scars with our regeneration cradle and-"

Brook cut him off with a look despite the dangers, sending a mental curse to her sestra as she
made Banner swear no one would find out about that information. Her back WAS covered
with large cuts, some burns, and whip marks that had never healed. The last thing she needed
was more pity from this man or anyone else in this building.

They’d saved her from that fall despite knowing who she was, it was likely that as heroes
they might be the type to worry over such unless things. Look how quick they had tried to
help her out of her talk with Fury. It was almost saddening how far their need to defend and
protect went. Part of the job and all.

"I don't need that stuff healed. What I need is to leave right now and hope I can go MIA to
another country before your friend finds out I'm-"

The door to the room slammed open, rattling the hinges and stopping her next words. The
person responsible for such commotion being too impatient to let the glass doors slide on
their own.

To her horror, it was Stark that burst through, hair disheveled, fresh bandage on his right
brow, and eyes quickly scanning her side of the room. When he made eye contact with her,
his brown eyes, identical to her own, were wide and fearful. The billionaire didn't hesitate
another second before rushing to the bed, stopping beside Banner.

Brooklyn did her best to look unbothered. It was one thing letting weakness falter around a
stranger such as Banner, another entirely to do so before this particular person.

Running wild hands through his hair, Stark’s gaze locked onto his colleague, asking, "Is it
true? I just saw this on my..." Stark paused, catching his breath as he called out FRIDAY's
name, asking it to pull up the same file Brook had already seen, only this time as a projection
taking up the length of the bed, a hologram hovering above her.

"Are you sure the test is right?! It has to be wrong, right?" Stark asked Banner, thankfully
ignoring her for the moment as she further gathered her emotions and locked them up. She
didn’t care to analyze what emotions his voice held, how he felt about it. Or at least tried to
convince herself of that fact.

But the doctor nodded, prying Tony's hand that was clutching his lavender-collared shirt.
Once Banner was free, he shot her one of his sympathetic smiles and began walking towards
the door. Brooklyn tried to send him a pleading gaze not to leave, but of course, he wouldn't
listen to her, she was nothing to him but a patient.

"I'll give you two some time to talk while I tell the others she's awake," Dr. Banner said,
before leaving her alone in a quiet room with the last person she wanted to see.

Pondering her mistakes, Brooklyn realized should have fought harder against Stark and
Spider-man, left long before that fight at the compound began. She could’ve tried to kill
them, but having it be Tony Stark that showed up had stunned her stupid, made her instincts
falter.

Now, Tony Stark was standing stiffly before her bed. He slowly eyed her hair, face, and then
he turned towards the machines around her and the bloody gauze left beside the bed.

"Who's your mom?" he asked her, all but collapsing on the chair Banner had been in before
the doctor abandoned her, "You were in the...did they take you from your mom? We can find
her if you want. Sixteen years ago, where was I then? Have I ever even been to Russia?"

Mom? Brooklyn didn't have a mom, never had. Just a cruel instructor with her DNA.

Brooklyn cut off his rambling with a raised hand.

"Don't bother trying to look, you wouldn't want to meet her anyways" she answered, opting
to play with the knit ends of the thin blanket atop her frozen body rather than look this man in
the eye.

She heard Stark scoff.

"I would like to know why she didn't tell me. I always feared I'd have a child out there, the
odds weren’t exactly in my favor after all these years, and now...god, I'm not ready to be a
parent. This is all wrong"

Brook frowned, cutting him off with her slightly raised voice, "And you don't need to worry
about having to be one now, Mr. Stark"

He too froze, likely noticing her blank expression, the assuredness of her words, and the lack
of empathy or heartbreak in them. Even when deep down, somewhere in her heart full of
cobwebs and dust, his words had stung a bit.
Beholding his own stunned expression, Brooklyn pushed the odd feeling in her chest and
added, "If you must know, for closure’s sake, 10452 is dead"

She hadn’t said that name in years…

"What kind of teen slang is that?" Stark asked, exasperatedly running a hand through his
messy hair as if he needed something to do but standing up was beyond him.

Brooklyn had to fight the urge to roll her eyes as she explained, "That's the name of the
woman who gave birth to me. 10452. A Black Widow of the Red Room"

Stark finally stood from his chair and quickly began pacing around the room as he clutched
his black Aerosmith shirt tighter the more his eyes shut closed in concentration.
Unfortunately, Brook didn't have the luxury to pace as he could, not when her wound ached
as much as Banner had promised it would.

Maybe fault in her emotions was to blame too. All she could do was sit and watch as the man
panicked before her, sorting through mumbles and groans of annoyance before finally sparing
her a glance. A question in mind.

"How did she die? Are...I don't know, do you want to talk about it or something? Is that not a
good day to think about?" he rambled.

Stark really thought she mourned her mother? Perhaps in the moment of her death Brook had
felt an unfamiliar emotion, but never had she felt pain thinking about the happenings of that
day. That woman had been cruel since the girl's birth, and though it made Brook an excellent
Red Room trainee, it made for lousy parenting by American standards that had been shoved
in her face since she arrived in New York.

But since Stark wanted to know what happened, perhaps she should say it.

Make her peace, then leave.

"I was shooting at my people that day SHIELD came. I was no victim, Mr. Stark, it was I
who distracted 10452 enough for Agent Romanoff to kill her off" Brook said, making him
stop in his tracks, "I would say it was a group effort, but sestra did most of the work. And
don't look at me with those little judgy eyes, I might just get offended after all"

Stark was staring at her in confusion, brows scrunched until he sat at the edge of the bed far
enough from her that Brook didn't feel the need to bolt out.

"You sound glad," he pointed out.

She let out a dark chuckle.

"Mr. Stark, you knew her for a few hours at most. I knew her for seven years. I think it's safe
to say my emotions towards her death might be more accurate than yours. Besides, you
benefited the most from her death and that of the Red Room Academy that was destroyed"
Maybe it was the harshness of her words, but some part of the snarky and carefree billionaire
returned then. He leaned regally where he sat, eyeing her with something sharper than before.

"How should I be relieved exactly?"

Brooklyn could keep it to herself…but maybe that's just what Tony Stark needed to hear so
he could stay far away from her. To send her on her way.

So she told him of the planned instance of her birth, at which Stark seemed lost in thought
trying to find the woman he'd slept with then. The teen was glad to see her mother hadn't
made a lasting impression, it made Brook's job all the easier.

Brooklyn then left out most of her childhood, but explained the day Ivan had summoned her
and explained her life's purpose. How she would've one day been sent Tony's way by
coincidence, revealed herself as his daughter, and inherited Stark Industries. She explained
how he would die by her hands, and the weapons and riches then owned by Brook would be
used for the benefit of the Red Room's not-so-noble causes.

Eventually, she too would 'die' and adopt a new identity to continue her spy work towards
infiltrating other large companies worldwide.

Brook didn't mention it, but Stark seemed to understand what that meant. More killing with
the skills he'd seen her display during the fight, even if she'd taken care to only severely
injure the enemy so Fury wouldn't bite her head off.

It was then that Stark seemed to register what kind of person lay before him, that he
remembered all the information on that SHIELD file of hers and perhaps wondered about the
crossed-out lines he could not obtain.

He knew it all now.

"Convince Fury to let me go, and we'll never see each other again" Brook offered, leaning
forward to look him in the eye, "You will never hear a thing from me, I promise. Just get me
out of this place and I'll disappear from your life like I never happened. You’ll find some
other person to help with less baggage. It will be like I never existed"

Stark remained quiet, his eyes shifting from her and then to the glass doors to their left. Not a
subtle way for her to leave…he was staring at his own reflection. Stark’s breathing picked up
for a while there, no need to be strapped to machines like Brook to notice.

Then he shook his head as if she’d said the most absurd thing in the world, that cocky
arrogance returning full swing as he muttered, "Not an option, John Wick. We need you for
this mission, I brought you in because you are urgently needed, so you must stay"

Stay!? After knowing all that, he still wanted her help!?

Was there something wrong with him?

She was about to argue her point when Stark gently tutted as one might a child to get them to
stop misbehaving.
"It's non-negotiable. Fury already put your report in and the council accepted you as a trainee
when they saw the footage of the fight from yesterday’s attack. You better make yourself at
home, Daphne"

Was this man insane? Like hell she would stay here!

"I'm not doing it, I'm not staying here with you! You're not my father, I'm not your daughter!"
she screamed, at last losing her carefully structured composure. Working for Fury had been
one thing, but staying here knowing Stark knew who she was, that she would not do.

“I’m not staying here” she warned, fisting her hands under the covers.

Stark stood from the bed in a flash, moving to check the monitors on the other side of the
room with his back to her. He was grabbing machines and papers at random, but eventually,
he clutched an old wrench and waved it in her direction behind his back.

"Fine! Happy can drive you! I'll move you to a more secure location since living here seems
like such a nightmare!" he yelled back, clearly misunderstanding what she’d meant.

He wanted her to move? She had a job, a life she’d worked to build!

"I have school, tin can. I can't leave Brooklyn at the start of the school year, what kind of
idiot does that!?" she said, matter of fact. Hopefully, facts would drill her point home. That it
wasn’t about living in the compound or not. It was about him and her, about Brook wanting
to be as far from this mess as possible. No strings attached.

Hands clutching the metal work table, Stark still didn't turn to face her, which she was
grateful for. Brook was far too angered and annoyed to see his arrogant face.

"This is why I didn't want to be a father! Gosh, I'm not ready for this rebellious crap. Of
course, it was a master assassin that I managed to knock up, a meaningless one-night stand"
he whispered, but Brook heard it loud and clear.

Such a comment might have hurt when she was six and daring to entertain useless dreams of
meeting her father, hoping he'd be different from everyone else in the Red Room. Thankfully,
Brook had given up on that dream of a family long ago.

It had all started with that family SHIELD/the orphanage set up. They were decent at first but
only wanted her around for the money. Eventually, Brook decided to leave at the age of 10,
probably the best decision of her life if she was honest. Instead of stopping her, the family bid
her farewell with a promise of a sum of the money they received every now and then if she
kept her mouth shut about her absence.

So it was fine if no one wanted to be her family, even Stark.

She'd never needed one anyways.

Brooklyn had a reluctant job to do now, stop these criminals who wanted to fill the world
with power only for themselves. As someone who wanted a peaceful life, she knew it would
be impossible without stopping them. She was blackmailed but determined to get it all to stop
before it blew out of proportion.

That didn't mean she had to be around Stark for any of it, she reasoned.

"Well, then Mr. Stark. Once healed, the result of the meaningless one-night stand will head
out" she said with a sigh, exhausted she began getting comfortable on the bed with her head
against the plush pillow, being careful to arrange blankets to cover her entire body from sight.
Her body was still stiff, and despite the calm beeping of her heart rate across the room,
Brooklyn just wanted to be alone.

Thankfully, the man seemed to understand the silent dismissal, because he walked out of the
room slowly without another word. Like he too didn’t want to be around her. It took
Brooklyn a few minutes to realize he wasn't coming back in, at which point she let out a sigh
of relief.

Now, alone at last, Brook busied herself flipping through the channels on the small TV when
laying still did nothing to calm the mess in her head. Eventually settling for a random episode
of Victoria, the teen hadn’t calmed in the least, the world of a Queen in conflict with her own
demons couldn't distract Brook from the unfortunate happenings of today.

She'd dreaded the day Tony Stark would find out her identity even if she’d figured such a
possibility was next to impossible. Now that it had come to pass, Brook just hoped her heart
and mind could bear it. Because she shouldn't care that Stark didn't want her around, that the
only reason she had to stay was out of duty.

Like Ivan, Stark only needed her around for her deadly capabilities…like Ivan, she was
nothing to him. But Brooklyn could take Stark’s distaste and anger, and ignore it.

Brook was made of stronger stuff than simple emotions.

She could shut out the pressing feelings in her chest, the ones that made her feel unwanted
and monstrous once again.

So she tried to distract herself with the show on TV, which proved rather useless. Even
having never watched this drama, the assassin realized she already despised it. The love and
affection the main characters had for their cluster of children, it made her feel...

Anger. That's what it was. Nothing more.

On the screen, the pair huddled a babe close, their huge family of nine children, happily
together as one.

Absurd, all of it. Who needed family anyways? Not her.

Eventually, she couldn't handle the happiness any longer, so she turned off the screen and
willed herself to sleep, hoping that maybe dreams would be her escape from this nightmare.
Maybe she'd wake and be somewhere else, preferably back in her lonesome apartment.

All this just a bad dream.

Of course, THAT didn't happen. It only got worse from there.
 Natasha's Advice

Tony Stark POV-

It had been a day, a FULL day since Tony found out he had a daughter, and despite his
indisputable brilliance, he still didn't know what to do with that information. He'd debated
going down to the temporary med-bay to see Brooklyn, but every time he neared its doors, he
knew nothing would come of it.

At least nothing useful.

Tony's whole world had been turned upside-down, and Pepper wasn't here to help him
through it. In her defense, that was also his fault. This series of events from the past two days
only proved, once again, how much of a handful he was.

Now, sitting alone in his lab, Tony was trying to focus on analyzing these weapons while
FRIDAY worked on a new security protocol. That should've been enough to keep his mind
running, but thoughts of the girl downstairs distracted him from time to time.

She'd almost killed herself yesterday jumping out a window, and then almost got shot to
death not hours later. That's now his first hours as a father had gone, even if he'd just thought
her a stranger at the time. Every time Tony dared to think about that, his stomach churned
inexplicably, and he felt almost lightheaded. The best he could do to quell his worries would
be to pull up a screen with Brooklyn’s vitals, making sure all was steady as it had been for the
twenty-four hours he’d barricaded in self-imposed isolation in this lab.

He’d had a visitor, of course, one that had made himself known as soon as Tony stomped his
way to the lab after talking to the teen downstairs. Like he’d known something would go
wrong.

When the billionaire had relented and expressed his emotions to Bruce while he nursed a
bottle of brandy, Tony's friend wasn't much help. As proof that his doctorates did not include
professional physiological help, Bruce merely said Tony and Brook were too alike, but with
very different approaches to things.

Too stubborn. Too Snarky. Hurt.

Even if that were true, Bruce couldn't find a way to resolve any of it when Tony asked for a
quick solution. One he found himself desperate for. In true helpful fashion, Jolly Green just
suggested giving Brooklyn time, and to give himself time as well to process what he wanted
to do.

Fat load of useless help that was.

Natasha, it seemed, had a completely different approach to this issue.

Fury just had to tell all the Avengers the surprising news yesterday...
His friend walked into the lab in her usual workout clothes, black shorts, and a loose tank top.
If this were a few years back, he might have ogled with interest at her sweaty form. But not
since Pepper came along. Never would he look at a woman with absolute devotion unless it
was her.

Seemingly unaware of the inner conflict about his daughter, the Russian sat on the stool
before him, eyeing the bottle of whiskey he'd chosen for today. Without saying a word, she
served herself a chuckles length of the beverage and drank it without a flinch. Show off.

Reluctantly, unable to hold back his questions, Tony found himself asking, "How is she?"

Natasha shrugged, twirling the amber liquid before her while looking at him through the
rocks glass in hand.

"She's walking alright now, slow and steady. The wound closed up nicely, but we want Dr.
Cho to patch it up with her machine at some point" Nat said casually, "Kid's tough, she's
taking it like a champ"

Brooklyn had to be if she was from the place that trained Natasha Romanoff, the toughest
there was in his opinion. A part of him still didn't understand what that meant in its entirety,
the only other person from the Red Room he knew was Nat, and she never spoke of her past.

Ever. As in, she’d wanted everyone at some point or another never to bring it up.

No one had ever been foolish enough to push Nat’s buttons that far, even him.

It must not have been a nice place full of rainbows and sunshine, but Tony was having a hard
time envisioning what it must have been like for a child.

Tony had a more than decent upbringing, with everything but the love of his father. Tony had
gotten every toy he could ever hope for, had received the nicest clothes and the best
education money could buy.

But what had his own daughter received? How badly…how badly had he failed her?

"What was the Red Room like?" he found himself asking after a rather large sip of his drink,
throwing caution to the wind even when he knew this sensitive topic could very well get him
thrown against the wall, "What was Brooklyn like when you found her?"

Natasha scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger at him with that scary frown that always sent
the Avengers running and apologizing. But he swallowed his fear, found it was secondary to
the worry taking over his heart for the cold teenager downstairs.

"Widows NEVER look back, Tony. Neither Rosa nor myself will speak of our training unless
absolutely necessary. It’s not our way" she said, setting her glass down to fasten her shoulder-
length hair back with all the patience in the world despite the murder in her emerald eyes. As
if this conversation wasn't important.

He couldn’t help but bristle at what Natasha called his daughter, the same name she’d uttered
with complete confidence at lunch two days ago. Rosa. The name SHE had given the girl
downstairs. Parents were supposed to give their children names, it's just how life was. Not
only did Tony not get to do that with Brooklyn, but he also wasn't there when she likely
needed him most.

But Natasha had been. She knew things files didn’t state, had cared enough about the girl to
provide her with a middle name. They had enough of a connection to call each other sisters.

Hell, in the very limited time he'd know Brooklyn, she'd almost died twice. Once trying to
kill herself rather than leave with him, the person she knew was her father, and the second
after saving Tony's own life!

Taking another sip of the amber alcohol, Tony tried to focus on the way it burned down his
throat instead of the anger that boiled all around him. Seeing that his bottle was near empty
now, he took out another from the secret stash in the cabinets under him.

Had he been drinking that much? It sure didn't feel like it, as if his worries and distress
burned the alcohol right off his body. Is this how Steve felt all the time? Eternally sober when
all you needed was to be drunk.

Pouring Nat some whiskey from the new bottle, he explained, "I just want to try and
understand why she's like this towards me"

"She's like that because you're an ass" Nat replied with no hesitation whatsoever.

"Don't be rude, I know that secretly you all love me" he said, leaning a scoff from his
drinking buddy. With a tired sigh that reflected his all-nighter, Tony added, "I meant the
coldness. Ever since I met Brook, she's been like this heaping mess of annoyance"

Natasha actually had the nerve to laugh at his misery. Then, once her smile faded just as
quickly as it had come, she walked over to sit next to him, patting his back as they both took
another long sip of their respective drinks.

"Fine, you win today. I'll say this once, and you better learn from it" she said, and Tony
couldn't nod fast enough, at last getting some useful insight. He was probably the first aside
from Clint to be granted knowledge of the Red Room, and he’d be damned if he didn’t write
all this down later.

It didn’t escape him how unique of a situation this was for Natasha to bend on her one rule.

Downing the rest of her drink, Nat spat, "Us widows are made and shaped to only care about
two things, Tony. Missions, and ourselves"

Tony's heart dropped, "Did you know her mission would have been to kill me?"

One of the many things that were bothering him was that particular fact, wondering if he
would have met Brooklyn around this time had the Red Room base not been taken over.

Would she have pretended to be a kind and loving daughter only to kill him? How would it
have been to live that lie?
"Tony," Natasha scolded, taking his glass to get his attention, "Rosa left all that behind the
day she chose to stand against her own people. I left that part of me behind as well when I
abandoned the Red Room. We left all the missions behind in the dust. But the part about
getting close to people and trusting outside of one’s self, that one took me a while to work
out, even with Clint"

Now that the billionaire thought about it, it was true that Natasha had gotten friendlier over
the years. Everyone had noticed it, especially Tony.

When he'd met her for the first time, she'd been undercover. Once he found out she was with
SHIELD, during those days where death awaited him around the corner from palladium
poisoning, she'd been rude and cold towards him. Very much like Brooklyn was right now
actually…the way Natasha sometimes was with strangers to this day.

Now, he and Nat were thick as thieves. Drinking buddies on the bad days, and an unbeatable
Just Dance duo on the good ones.

Tony wasn't sure when she began to let loose, but it had definitely been after the events of
New York, once they became Avengers. Every subsequent mission had only strengthened that
friendship. Years of working things out.

"How did you get over it?" he dared to ask, unsure what his limit of prodding into the past
was.

Natasha tried to hide her smile behind a sip of her glass, but Tony swore he saw it.

"Actually, it was the Avengers. With SHIELD I was mostly working solo, just how I liked it.
You lot became my first family, and in time, I was able to fully put my guard down. Even
with Bruce"

Tony hadn't known how much the Avengers meant to her, mostly because she rarely showed
it. But like him, the group was her only family. One that had almost been torn apart last year.

"So just like Bruce, you want me to give her space?"

With her drink finished, Nat downed the remainder of his without asking, stood up clutching
her workout towel and set it lazily across her shoulders. She turned to look at him, green eyes
seemingly holding something back. It was that same look Nat always got when she was
frustrated with one of them. Mostly that look was reserved for Clint and Tony of course, but
it didn't make it any less uneasy.

"No. I want you to stop being an ass. We all saw the conversation you two had yesterday"

Of course, they did, Tony thought. It was likely Fury who'd carelessly pulled up the feeds as
some dramatic reveal.

"Privacy breach much? Does privacy even exist here? Why don't we just start a reality TV
show while we're at it since everyone can hack into everything!" Tony whined.

Nat seemed to consider throwing her towel his way, but settled for frowning instead.
"That's rich coming from you. Still, that doesn't change the fact that we heard what you told
Brooklyn, made it sound as if you didn't want her around. I told you that girl has walls, and
the only thing you succeeded in doing was her building them up further"

He had? Yesterday was a blur to him. That conversation seemed so far away now that all
Tony remembered from yesterday was throwing up, on the newly replaced floor that had been
damaged during the attack, as soon as he left the temporary med-bay.

The same attack that could've ended his daughter's life, all because he'd been the one to bring
her to the compound.

With that in mind along with many more excuses, he replied quietly "Well, I don't know if I
want her around"

It would have been less scary if she yelled at him, but with icy coldness, Natasha replied
"One more thing I will say about the Red Room is that Rosa received no ounce of love in
there, Tony. While you train there, you have no friends or allies. Everyone is trying to kill
you, especially those who train you, the adults you look up to. She's likely been figuring out
what normal life is like all on her own since, with no one to love her since her adoptive
family clearly failed her enough that she ran away"

The words were like a slap to the face, only much more painful. It was as if the Hulk had
slapped him across the room. That feeling, it was the same as what Tony felt when he saw
Brooklyn fall after the security breach.

He knew that sinking feeling too well. It was his old friend, guilt.

Natasha leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossed, "As someone who was taught
all of the good of the world later in life, I suggest you try to do the same for her. Rosa is a
good kid, a brave one that deserves a second chance more than I ever did. Don't you dare
mess it up"

Exasperated, Tony stood from the stool, staring at the lineup of his metal suits at the far end
of the room. All of them were staring back at him in a way that almost seemed judgmental.

"I don't know if I can even be a good father, Nat. I didn't have a dad that loved me,
remember? He wasn't around, he was cold and calculating. She doesn't need that" he said
softly.

Out of nowhere, Clint's voice added "You're not your father, Tony. But you are on your way
to be just like that. Think of how having a father like Howard made you feel and act the way
you wished he would have treated you. As a father, I know what I'm talking about"

Turning around, Tony frowned at the sight of Clint and Nat leaning against the wall casually
as they teamed up on him. Knowing Clint, he'd likely been up in the light beams above
listening to them all this time.

This happened so often that Tony didn't bother questioning it.

“She doesn't want me as her father anyways" Tony added, remembering full well the words
Brook had spat in his face. As if she had already decided he wasn't good enough.

"I'm not doing it, I'm not staying here with you! You're not my father, I'm not your daughter!"

"Maybe not," Clint said with a shrug, "But she does need you, more than you know. So get
some self-help books, maybe a few on Parenting 101 too...but make it work Tony, because
nothing will ever change the fact that she is your last remaining family"

Tony hated it when Barton was right. Then, as if to validate his advice, Clint pointed at the
words on his hand-painted shirt full of little colorful handprints. A gift from his children.

Best dad in the world. Including alien space.

Show-off.

He supposed...maybe a few books would help. Maybe Tony and Brook could at least try to
get along for the future. Perhaps she wasn't ready to be as Stark, he wasn't ready for that
either, but they could work towards that.

He could make an effort, which is more than Tony’s own dad ever did.

It was with a saddening realization that Tony realized his mom would have loved to have a
grandchild, she'd always expressed her excitement over it when he was younger. Now that
Brooklyn was here, he could try, for the memory of Maria Collins Carbonell-Stark. The mom
he'd cared for more than anything, who'd been killed by that son of a bitch who was friends
with the super soldier playing pool downstairs...no, he shouldn't think about that.

Tony had promised not to. For the sake of the team and the mission.

Think back to Brooklyn...

Well, he and Brooklyn already had some things in common. They had both fought in New
York (but he didn't want to talk much about that), they were both smart (he'd seen her grades
when he thought of recruiting her), and...they both had the same honey-brown eyes...

With a sigh, Tony made his way to the nearest monitor, already willing to look for those
parenting books in a moment of desperation. It seemed silly, knowing there would be little
help from Parenting 101 or Fatherhood for Dummies when you had an assassin as a child.

But it was a start.

While Tony typed away angrily, he'd failed to notice Nat and Clint making their way over to
him. In a rare act of kindness, Nat gave him a quick hug before saying, "Remember you're
not alone. We are all here to help. Maybe she won't get a five-star father out of this, but
hopefully, she will have a family like all of us gained"

Despite the underline insult, a sudden weight lifted off his shoulders, one that let him think of
this in a more logical way to further ease his mind.
The world didn't have to know about Brooklyn, Tony could just try to gain her trust for now
and hopefully in the future, once he somehow won Pepper back, they could try and become a
family. At least that's what he planned on until Steve burst into the room with a fuming Fury
in tow and a panicked Scott.

"What's wrong? Another attack?" Clint asked as Tony rose from his seat, seconds away from
calling one of his suits and sending two others down to guard the med bay. But, neither of the
three men were in a hurry to leave the room, and the hall was quiet.

Steve sheepishly looked at the ground, pointing at the tablet in hand.

"Not exactly"

It hadn’t been an attack, but something worse. Much worse.

 Us Spiders Have To Stick Together

Brooklyn POV-

Brook was comfortably lounging on a plush couch, taking a sip out of a disgusting protein-
filled drink she'd found in the fridge.

She was staring up into the ceiling, focused on one thing only. Whoever designed the layout
of this place was a genius.

That thought process was attributed to the fact that there was a 'small' kitchen just steps away
from the large living room made to accommodate all the Avengers. Good thing too. Though
she felt much better from her injuries, walking was still uncomfortable, like trying to sit
through an episode of Riverdale ( a show girls at school loved to rant about, much to her
displeasure).

Said heavenly kitchen had become Brooklyn's company for the past few hours, providing the
only thing that could make her feel as good as the pain meds Dr. Banner had been supplying
her.

Food.

Of course, that was only thanks to Miss America.

Ever since Steve Rogers granted Brook a surprise visit, he insisted she not spend so much
time alone in that 'hospital' room. He even went as far as to apologize that she wasn't in the
actual med bay, since it had been damaged when those weapon-thieving fools attacked this
place.

It was odd to have someone care about her comforts. Rogers had even gone as far as to
CARRY her to one of the spare rooms so she'd be more comfortable now that her meds were
done.

He'd even given her a temporary change of clothes too, courtesy of Miss Maximoff.
Apparently, Maximoff was only three years older than Brook, yet she was one of the
members with a tracker on her ankle. A criminal at such a young age, but the only one whose
clothes would fit her. She'd tried on some of sestra's clothes, but Brook was far too short for
them to fit properly.

Another thing the assassin found out since leaving the temporary med bay, was that this so-
called Wanda loved to rock a 'grungier' look. Out of all the clothing options Rogers had
brought, most of them were black ensembles. Skirts, tight-holed jeans, tank tops, and loose
sweaters. Of course, the tank tops were out of the question, Brooklyn had always avoided
those like the plague unless she was by herself. But now she was imprisoned in a building
full of Avengers, letting more of them see the scars of her past would be another mistake to
add on to the mess of yesterday.
As Brook had shuffled through the high-quality options, one thing stood out amongst the
others.

The most color there had been among Wanda's wardrobe was a plain gray sweater, one which
Brook had opted to wear to accommodate her injury and scars. Paired along with a black
skater skirt and some high socks of the same color, Brooklyn looked very different from
usual, as if all color she'd harbored these years had been leached out of her...

Her normal clothing choices were mostly due to her past, as all things were.

Now, as she stared up at the chandelier-covered ceiling, Brook thought back to the times in
Red Room when she'd only owned two identical articles of clothing that changed only in size
as the years went by. Brooklyn didn't miss the loose black jumpsuit, it was depressing, and
seeing it on everyone became annoying quickly. Seeing them covered in blood wasn't much
of an improvement either.

The only bit of color she'd been allowed as a child was her auburn hair, which they couldn't
take away...thankfully.

Once she gained her freedom, Brook invested quite a bit of her money in colorful clothes to
brighten up her dark past. They were mostly cheap ones she could find at thrift stores, but the
more color, the better. That's also why she cherished putting lipstick on, the strongest shade
of red she could find. It made her feel different, and it wasn't as bothersome as putting a face
full of makeup on every day.

When Brook had looked at herself in the guest room mirror, lips without their familiar red
tint, she almost didn't recognize herself. To Brooklyn, it was like a suit of armor, like the
one's Iron Man or Captain America wore to battle. Something as little as lipstick gave her
some sense of confidence, made her feel changed and alive.

Now she just looked like a depressed goth cheerleader. Unfortunately, she couldn't make the
look work as well as Miss Maximoff did.

Nonetheless, it was better than the hospital gown, and Steve's help out of that room was
reluctantly appreciated. Especially since she hadn't seen a single Avenger since then,
everyone was too busy dealing with the aftermath of the attack that the entirety of the hero
floors were empty.

Steve had left quickly after she'd settled into her new clothes and spare room, adding at the
last minute that she could roam around the recreation areas of the Avenger's floors too if she
wished...which she had. Though she'd been told FRIDAY wouldn't let her leave said floors
‘for her safety’, it was more freedom than Brooklyn had anticipated, one she took advantage
of.

That's how she found herself in the main living room (which had been fixed from the attack
rather quickly), flipping through channels until she came across a witty cartoon funny enough
to hold her interest. Brooklyn enjoyed funny TV shows. It was one of the things that just
seemed to make time pass for her.
As a child, she'd obviously never gotten an abundance of jokes and laughs, and this was her
best way to gain that. To at least try and experience what youth might’ve been like under
different circumstances. It was also a great way to analyze the way teens her age were now,
knowing their beginnings helped her understand who they were now. A necessary skill to try
and blend in.

With a cluster of snacks and the room to herself, Brook let herself relax, at last, getting
absorbed into the show knowing she could go back home tomorrow. She'd have all of Sunday
to regain her sense of self unless SHIELD had plans to bother her of course. Then, Monday
meant work and school, but for once she was looking forward to that usual routine even if the
Avengers had the license to call on her expertise from time to time.

She could try and forget all this mess, could pretend nothing had happened, as she was now.

That was until a loud crash came from behind the couch.

Startled into action, Brook pulled out the kitchen knife she'd stolen, twisting around her seat
to face her attacker...only to find no one. The room was empty, but the main door was open,
and there were a pair of sneakers visible from the bottom edge of the kitchen island. The pair
of Converse were peeking out from where a flustered string of "No No No No" was coming
from. The shoes themselves didn't look like they belonged to anyone in the compound. With
Stark's riches in hand, everyone wore clean and quality clothes from what Brook had
observed.

Hell, even Brooklyn's current 'Samantha Manson' look must have cost quite a fortune.

But those shoes looked like they might have been white once, only the blue accents retained
their color instead of turning muddy like the rest. They were also men's shoes.

FRIDAY would've said something if an intruder came in right? Or was the machine only
programmed to keep her in?

"Who's there?" Brook asked, refusing to put the knife down as she took a better position to
lunge atop the couch if needed despite her healing injury.

The person began to shuffle further behind the kitchen island, shoes disappearing from sight
while knocking along a few of the wooden stools onto the floor.

"I'm sorry! I had no idea you'd be up here and I'm not wearing my suit. Just let me put it on
quickly" a male voice said, a voice not as deep as usual. But she recognized that panic that
was only characteristic of one Avenger.

Spider-man was rocking his civilian look behind that counter.

A part of her was itching to see what he looked like, see how old he truly was. All she had to
do was rush over and take a look at the man she wanted to kill, finally putting a face to all
that anger. But instead of rushing over to ruin the hero's day, Brook shrugged and went back
to resting on the black couch, eyes on the screen.
Who gave a shit what Spider-man looked like anyways?

It would be revealed once her injuries recovered when she properly killed him for saving her
once and then failing to do so another time. She didn't need to see a face now to do that.

Even when she raised the volume on the TV, the sound of zippers and fluttering of clothes
could still be heard behind her, and Brooklyn smiled at the sound. At least she'd scared the
freak into a panic.

Eventually, a string of web attached itself to the chandelier way above Brook's head, and the
next thing she knew, the hero settled next to her on the couch in his usual blue and red outfit,
covered arms far enough from the teen that she didn't chop his fingers off with her kitchen
knife. A weapon now hidden between the cushions.

Brooklyn convinced herself that sitting next to this guy was ok, it wasn't like sharing a couch
was the equivalent of swearing an eternal brotherhood. She could be civil, if only for a few
hours while she rested her tired mind and body. Like a snake waiting to strike at the right
time.

That deep voice, now confirmed to be altered by his suit, suddenly said, "I'm glad you're
feeling better. I would have visited you but Mr. America —I mean Mr. Rogers— suggested I
don't until you were better"

Visit her? How stupid was this guy? Even if she'd been plugged into her IVs, Brooklyn
would've still picked a fight with him. He was lucky she was too emotionally drained from
the talk with Stark to kill him now.

Even if she couldn't see his face, the slight tilt of his head, the wide eyes of his mask...they all
held a sincerity in them, as if he truly wished he could've visited her injured and useless form.

"Whatever," Brook said, keeping her eyes on the screen, "you didn't have to visit"

Rustling from his side of the couch came, and the assassin had that familiar feeling of being
stared at. Still, she refused to turn to confirm.

"Of course, I should have gone! You were hurt because of me! If I'd been faster, you wouldn't
have gotten hit. I barely caught you in time when you fell"

He’d caught her…she’d wagered someone had when Banner hadn’t scanned for head trauma,
but the fact that it was him infuriated her. If he was expecting thanks, he’d be severely
disappointed. Admitting to faults or thanking someone were things she rarely did after all.

Yet, his odd behavior gave her pause.

Why was he panicking so much? They had just met, not under the best circumstances she
might add, and now he felt a flash of worry for her?

She'd tried to choke the life out of him more than once!
Brooklyn sighed, the sound of the long-suffering. Now that Spider-man was here, how was
she supposed to enjoy her cartoons? She reluctantly turned his way, only to see the hero was
staring at the place where her injury was, right by her concealed ribcage.

"I would have thought you'd be glad to see me shot" Brook snapped, taking a sweet gumdrop
into her mouth from the small bowl on her lap as she tried to ignore the concern in his
masked gaze, which changed into wide-eyed shock as soon as the words left her mouth.

"How could you think I wouldn't care? Of course I'm not happy about it, I was worried sick!
Doctor Banner took the flowers I brought in for you and swore to me you weren't allergic but
I still worried. Then I found out you were Mr. Stark's daughter and I thought he would kill me
for letting you get shot and-"

The flowers...the flowers!?

"Wait. You were the one who got me the flowers?" she asked, straightening when she recalled
the bouquet of Hyacinth that scented the pathetic room. She'd assumed that was just a
decoration piece…now, oh how she wished she would have burned the things. Instead, she'd
spent hours caressing its delicate petals, enjoying their familiar scent like a fool.

Spider-man rubbed his neck nervously.

"Yeah. I saw them from where I was waiting for Mr.Stark's signal the day we went to your
apartment. I was hanging on the window above yours and they smelled really nice, I thought
they might cheer you up"

Spider-man truly was a strange person, perhaps the most intriguing being Brook had met in a
long while. Most people were predictable in their behaviors, but not this guy. He should hate
her by the way she'd been treating him, but instead, he'd gotten her flowers out of guilt.

The thought of that was laughable.

Did he not know she was plotting his death the longer they spend time together?

Obviously, Brook wouldn't tell him that she took one of those flowers back up to her now
temporary room, the scent of them HAD calmed her thoughts for hours after all. Brooklyn
almost groaned when she realized that....darn it, she owed him then.

"They did smell nice," the teen admitted with gritted teeth, angrily tossing a handful of
snacks his way as payment for his efforts.

Would food suffice as a way to end the life debt she hatefully owed him? Though Brooklyn
despised thinking about it, had the hero not swung her away, she'd have caught about a dozen
additional blasts of which Dr. Banner surely couldn't have brought her back from. Not only
that, but Spider-man had just revealed that he'd spared a fall that could have cracked her
head…then proceeded to give her the flowers that had eased her unhappiness for a brief
period of time.
No matter how much she still wanted to kill him, a life debt was owed. She'd still kill him
eventually.

The hero looked at the array of snacks on his lap with wonder, scanning the names and
ingredients of the bars and packages before him that Brook had snagged from the kitchen.

"Thank you. These are my favorites! How did you know?" he asked, metal eyes narrowing
down towards her.

Brooklyn couldn’t help the small smirk that broke across her face as she bluffed, "I know
everything"

"I don't doubt it!" he replied cheerily, nodded vigorously as he clutched the snacks close to
his chest…then pulled a brown throw-over between them.

How did he know she’d been slightly cold? Was it part of his mutant power?

"I can see the goosebumps across your arms" he clarified, as if reading her mind. He gestured
to the sleeves of her sweater she'd raised, and thanks to the bracelets she'd put back on, her
cuff injuries were nowhere in sight at least. But the skin above revealed the goosebumps he
spoke of.

Brooklyn tried to keep her anger at bay, hating that he'd seen a weakness in her. Still, she
clutched her end of the blanket over her body, and didn't complain when he took the other
end and placed it over his spandex suit.

Sharing a blanket was not a sign of peace, it was merely survival against the cold.

Resigned to her fate sharing this room, when she finally turned back to the TV, commercials
had taken over. But not just any commercials, much to her surprise.

"Is that Rogers?" Brook found herself whispering, pointing at the large screen.

On TV, Mr. America himself was standing in front of a blue screen, clad in his full suit and
arms confidently resting on his hips.

With a smile, he said to the camera;

Hello, I'm Captain America.

Anyone, no matter how old, can work their way to becoming stronger by eating healthy.

Both Brook and Spider-man shifted their gazes to their laps, eyeing the array of snacks.

Chocolate bars, sweets, but also the occasional protein bar...with enormous amounts of
chocolate spread atop them.

Anyone can become strong as a superhero by eating right. That means switching up candy
and fast food for healthier choices like fruits and vegetables.
Again, both of them kept their eyes on the goods she’d snatched from the kitchen, then turned
to see what the other had. When they made eye contact, no matter how much she HATED the
man beside her, Brook couldn't stop the pull against her cheeks that formed what must be a
deformed smile. He too seemingly smiled, a vivid stretch of his mask and a shrinking of his
metal eyes. The next thing they knew, both of them were chuckling weakly, Brook doing her
best to turn the traitorous laughs into coughs.

The commercial ended with some inspirational quote Brook couldn't hear over the sound of
her own laughter.

What the hell?

Thankfully for her own pride, Rogers was shortly replaced by some commercial for a lego
Star Wars set for kids, at last getting rid of her uncontrollable laughter now that the man was
gone.

With surprising interest, the teen watched the displays of the lego sets on the screen, eyeing
them in slight wonder as child actors played with the small pieces. Though Brook would
never admit it to anyone, she'd always longed to have a large lego set of her own. Mostly for
the challenge of putting something complicated together, like that Ikea bookcase she'd helped
one of her insistent neighbors build a few years ago for a few extra bucks.

Solving problems with her head was something Brook was taught since she was little.
Working around problems in battle needed to be done in a split second, so the minds of
young widows were trained from birth to take on challenges with a sharp focus.

An instinct that seemed to have failed her recently.

"The new set came out!" Spider-man shouted excitedly, bouncing on the couch as Brook shot
him a long and confused stare. She couldn't believe her eyes...just how old was he? He had to
at least be in his teens, he was taller than her after all. But why was he so excited over a kid's
toy?

It was different for Brook, she was more mesmerized by the concept of a toy since she'd
never had any, but this guy seemed a little too old to be excited over something as common as
a lego set.

With a nudge towards the TV, he asked excitedly, "Do you like Star Wars too?!"

Brooklyn tried her hardest not to scoff.

How could she have seen the movies? She'd heard about them of course, but just didn't have
the money for such things. In fact, all the channels she had back in her flat were because
she'd hacked into the internet and cable from some of the guys on the tenth floor, but even
they were cheap. Those boys didn't bother buying Syfy channels when they preferred sports.

It was sad that all of her training in computing and hacking had to be used for such silly
things, but it had been a nice little arrangement she'd created. She kept their internet and
cable, and in return, the girl didn't kill them for all the noisy parties they had on weekends. It
was like a symbiotic relationship that hung by a thread every time their loud music made her
bed shake at one in the morning.

But as far as movies went, the assassin had seen a very limited amount, and information she
held on other shows and movies was purely because of school gossip. But the rich and
snobby kids at her school hadn't mentioned a thing about Star Wars, so Brook shook her
head.

With a large gasp, the hero placed a hand on his chest in disbelief. "You've NEVER seen a
single Star Wars movie?"

"It wasn't part of the Red Room curriculum, so no" she answered annoyedly.

So what if she hadn't seen these movies? They were likely not very good if Spider-man liked
them. Taking the control from the small glass table before them, the hero waved it around,
then pointed it at the large TV before them.

"Well, Mr. Stark bought all of them for me. Maybe next movie night we can watch the first
few. Empire Strikes Back is the absolute best movie of all time, you HAVE to see it!"

Movie night? With the Avengers. With Stark.

Putting as much of her internal disgust into her voice, she replied with a swift "I don't want
to"

"Why not!?" he whined, setting the controller down and leaning his masked head back on the
couch rather disappointedly.

Brooklyn had about a million reasons to decline his atrocious offer, but she settled for a
simple "I don't need your movies or company. I'm fine on my own"

Ignoring the return of the cartoons on the screen, the hero encompassed the room with his
arms, "But what about game night? Ms. Natasha won't let us play Monopoly anymore, but we
have Twister and Uno! AND every Friday, we have weekly briefings here too. You HAVE to
come to those"

The great Natalia Romanova was spending her Fridays playing childish games? Just what
kind of place was this? What manner of torture and training did they impose that playing
games was part of a required curriculum for Earth’s mightiest heroes?

"C'mon! I can tell you want to! It will be fun, I promise. Plus you have to get to know the
team soon, they've been wanting to talk to you since...well since we found out you…"

Since Stark probably told them she was his daughter. What a tattle-tale.

"What? Did your superpowers tell you I wanted to do this? To come to your little gatherings
as if I'm not being held here against my will?" she asked.

Spider-man appeared confused at first, an expression she was becoming very familiar with
despite the mask, then shook his head slowly.
 "I can sense dangers nearby, but I can't read emotions if that's what you're asking," his robot-
like voice said.

Sense dangers huh? Brook looked down at herself, then in the direction of the hidden knife
between the cushions.

"Then they must be going crazy around me, huh? Flaring up with loud warnings right now"

The hero waved his arms in big X formations, shaking his head.

"Never. Not once have my abilities flared up around you! You aren't a danger"

Now she was offended. His powers must be broken.

After her scoff, Spider-man leaned further against the couch, looking at her with narrowed
metal eyes. Like he was trying to make heads and tails about her, as if she was the true
mystery here.

"Just please come at least once. Ms. Natasha does, and she's a Black Widow too. Us spiders
have to stick together after all" he said, motioning to the two of them.

Brook couldn't help but smile as she corrected him, "You do know that in nature spiders are
not very tolerant of each other, right? They'll have contests, they'll fight, cannibalize each
other. That's why my organization named us after spiders of all things…spiders stand alone"

The hero didn't seem repulsed or terrified, he just tilted his head as he pondered something in
that crazed mind of his. Something that must’ve made him smile.

"But with the threat of humans, they must band together, right? Fight a common enemy, join
forces! My Biology teacher once said that if spiders teamed up, they could theoretically kill
and consume all humans on Earth in just one year"

With a large sight, Brook leaned back against the couch and whispered, "Ty nevozmozhen,
malen'kiy pauk"

The hero's eyes widened as he sat up straight at the same time Brook’s body stiffened by the
words she’d just uttered. More importantly, by what she’d called him.

"Oh! What does that mean? Is it Russian?" he asked, to which Brook tiredly replied tiredly,
"Yes it's Russian. I said you're impossible, little spider"

It seemed he didn't know how to take that first, then in a jumble of words, he said, "Well your
accent is really pretty, not that your normal one isn't! It sounds very Brooklyn like! Not your
name, but the city! Hey, Miss Natasha said something about you naming yourself before,
what was your name prior to that?"

Brooklyn had never met such a talkative person in her life, even at work. This was
exhausting.

She considered not answering, but then something did it for her.
From the wall to their left, a red-skinned figure PHASED through like a ghost, sending
Brook stumbling back against Spider-man's frame while she clutched the hidden kitchen
knife before them, ready to fight.

Of course, then she quickly realized it was the Vision, and that the hero behind her hadn't
been startled at all. This must have been a common occurrence then, the phasing of bodies
between walls. What a circus show this place was…

The non-human looked back at the wall and then slowly turned back to them.

"My apologies. I forget that startles new people" it said, not sounding all that sorry after all.
After a small wave, the machine handed Brook a black folder she didn’t accept. Like Banner
had yesterday, the machine simply set it before her atop the cushion.

She silently scooted further from Spider-man's warmth, pretending the little alteration of
having her body fall against his side hadn't happened. Brook didn't take the folder into her
hands right away, the symbol on the cover was all too familiar. This was some SHIELD
nonsense.

"SHIELD operatives from the main office just dropped this off for you, Miss Stark," the
machine said. Brooklyn paused her browsing of the cover page with her full name and
SHIELD logo, a pair she was still not used to, something that should've never ended up
together.

"I'm not a Stark" Brook replied coldly, staring at his inhuman yellow eyes, "I'm Brooklyn
Jones"

The machine began staring up at the ceiling, unmoving and unblinking. Just when Brook was
thinking about calling him out on it in case Vision had broken down, it replied with that
robotic-British accent of his, "I have saved that preference on my database, Miss Jones"

Um, well great.

Brook had met a talking machine before FRIDAY and Vision, back in the Red Room. She
didn't remember much of it, but it had been like an ancient male Siri. Her instructors and Ivan
would ask it questions often, and it always answered rather creepily. She'd been repulsed by it
then, and she was not exactly comforted by a walking version of that now.

But at least this machine seemed docile enough that Brook dared take her eyes off it to scan
what had been handed over. Deciding to also ignore the hero that was peeking at the file over
her shoulder, Brook finally opened it up to find it filled to the brim with papers.

On the left sleeve of the folder was a SHIELD ID card with her school photo of all things. It
had a clip to fasten it onto her clothes like she'd seen all employees here were required to. It
had the barest of details, her name (thankfully not Stark), allowed access levels from the
building, and her status as a trainee Avenger.

Just fantastic.
Next to it, two other cards were tucked into similar pockets. A credit card with her name on
it, and a smaller card with various five-digit numbers. Beside each were initials that were not
hard to decipher. Contacts for the Avengers, to go along with the pager clipped at the top of
the folder, a small black thing that could be easily hidden even in the useless size of girl
pockets.

"I was told this was all the supplies you'd need now that you've agreed to join SHIELD," the
Vision said, pointing at the stack of papers, "Now that you have recuperated, it is advised you
look over them as soon as possible"

Agreed was a strong word…more like Fury had blackmailed her. But if she was in this mess,
she might as well know everything that was required of her no matter how much she wished
to throw this folder into the trash can.

As for the massive stack of papers, the first one was her SHIELD file, now fuller than the one
Stark had shown Brook back in her apartment. It still didn't mention him as her father, but it
did have the parents' section crossed out for Level 10 access only.

To Brook's surprise, it had detailed information about her childhood training, and her school
and home address. An odd blend of past and present that didn't seem to go together. It even
detailed the gym she used for spin and judo classes.

Eti lyudi byli stalkerami. These people were stalkers.

The other papers inside were less invasive but equally as important. Flipping through them,
Brook realized that SHIELD had just handed over her a detailed description of her imminent
future. One sheet of paper was an Avengers-approved schedule for the week, filling her
afternoons with training under both SHIELD and Avengers instruction that would likely
cause Brook to have to quit her wonderful job. The other documents were details of the floors
of this building she was allowed in, as well as definitions for all the codes of emergency.
Further documents detailed stuff like wifi passwords, system login accounts for SHIELD
under her name, as well as sturdier printing paper with information on the case she would be
working on.

Now, this was something she was more used to, even when she'd only ever had training
missions as a child. Brook knew she'd have to study the documents carefully in the comfort
of her home. The almost twenty pages full of weapon blueprints, criminal profiles, and
mission reports of what looked to be dating back at least two years, would take an effort to
work out and memorize.

What surprised her were the items on the back sleeves of the folder.

More specifically, a document detailing how much her 'services' and new job as a SHIELD
agent would pay her. She’d expected her past crimes to prevent her from such benefits, but at
least Fury was being reasonable.

Brooklyn tried not to let her surprise show when she realized this was almost three times her
normal paycheck at the Diner. If Brook had known she'd be paid for being blackmailed, it
might have lessened her anger of the past day.
Atop the documents was a subtle earpiece that would no doubt be used for field missions
(which she was apparently not cleared for yet without supervision). Brooklyn rolled her eyes
at that, as if Fury could stop her from living...oh wait, he could.

The 'To do' list next to the salary paper contained the phases of her training in nice little
cursive bullet points, to make it easier to understand. Its contents did make her curious
though.

There would be a simple assessment exam to begin with, nothing serious, just routine. Then,
she'd have to clear SHIELD Academy of Operations training. Meaning physical and mental
evaluations.

Then came the good stuff.

There was something written down about a final exam Brook needed to pass that would test
all she'd learned. It was clearly stated that only forty percent of participants passed, and
clearing training didn't guarantee success in completing the program. The thing was, none of
those failures had trained in the Red Room, so Brook was confident so far. In fact, nothing
written down had sparked a sense of dread just yet, a small relief.

The next bullet point was optional, only meant for those with what they categorized with
'supernatural' abilities. At least she'd dodged that extra step people like the spiderling likely
had to do.

"Stark mentioned that you were also a trainee," Brook said over her shoulder towards the
masked hero as she read, "Did you have to do all this crap?"

"Yes," said the deep machine voice, "I'm still finishing up my SHIELD agent training
actually. I recently got cleared for official patrols, but that's only in Queens"

So he'd likely be training alongside Brooklyn then. Hopefully, she'd get to spar against him
once or twice, to repay him for all the headaches he's caused her. Then she couldn't get
blamed for breaking his arms for no good reason.

The last documents in the burdensome packet just held SHIELD's rules of conduct and the
punishments associated with them should one fail to abide by them.

Surprisingly, none of these punishments involved death or torture. Just expulsion, maybe
imprisonment for the larger crimes. In Brook's case, she'd have to assume any rule breaking
would incite Fury the Pirate to lock her up underground as promised even if it wasn’t written
down.

She'd have to study the rules as well then, it would be a shame to get locked up for something
stupid.

The last items in her folder were two sets of card keys. Brook couldn't quite determine if they
were twins or not until she read the little tags attached to them. In neatly printed scripture,
one read Room, the other Labs.
Sure enough, her training had mentioned something along the lines of taking part in the
scientific division of SHIELD, though she couldn't quite figure out why she'd need such
instruction.

Staring at the keys with disdain, Brook remembered Fury's threat once again. Be a member of
SHIELD, or go to the jail of his preference.

"Your training attire and supplies should be given to you soon, Miss Jones. Though you
might need to get fitted for a few things down the line" Vision said suddenly from is place
standing still as a rock beside the couch, "and you will receive clearance to the weapon's floor
when you fulfill your training" it added, smiling at the kitchen knife she still kept atop her
lap.

So no weapons yet, meaning Brook would have to get her own from her apartment then.

What a bother…

"I got a packet like that last year. It's exciting, right? Makes it seem more official! I would
have joined the program sooner but I asked Mr. Stark for some extra time to think about it, a
shame since I'd probably be done by now if I hadn't done that" Spider-man said from his
place leaning behind her.

Meanwhile the robot just stood there in absolute stillness, trying its best to give her a shy
smile. Brook had heard enough about A.I. shows to not trust this machine, but it was hard to
do so when it seemed so docile in that blue suit of his. It was more like a butler than
anything, even if her instincts were on high alert.

It was to the scraps of metal that Brook directed her next question, "When do I start this
mess?"

The machine had that far away look again, then confidently answered, "You start on Tuesday,
three days from now at 7 pm sharp. Floor 8 of the SHIELD Academy building. It's on record
that Mr. Hogan will pick you up"

Hogan?

"He means Happy. Remember you met him? He's the guy who walked us to the Avengers'
floor a few days ago" Spider-man said happily.

Did he mean her good friend, Grumpy? That guy was supposed to be her company for three-
hour car rides every day!? Well, better than Stark she supposed.

Speaking of which...

"Mr. Stark has also suggested you live somewhere closer to the compound. We can begin
looking at possible places this afternoon if you'd like" Vision added, to her displeasure.

Brook wasn't really attached to her home, she had an emergency bag at the ready in case of a
quick getaway. But living somewhere else by Stark's wishes, it didn't sit right with her. It felt
too much like depending on him.
She likely would have argued her position of wanting to stay in the city of Brooklyn, even if
it was half-hearted, but then Vision got that far away look again. Instead of coming back to
their conversation, he quickly turned towards the main door further down the room.

As if on cue, the fogged glass doors opened loudly, revealing a few of the Avengers along
with Director Fury.

So much for her alone time.

Stark, Rogers, and her sestra looked frantically around the room until their eyes met hers, full
of anger and...defeat?

Fury quickly called FRIDAY, asking it to turn off the TV and close the enormous red curtains
behind them. The machine did so with a polite acceptance until the room became darker and
lit only by the chandeliers above them, giving the room an eerie feel Brook was not prepared
for.

Had they come to kill her at last?

"What's going on?" Spider-man asked, easily flipping over the couch to meet Stark halfway.

The man looked frantic and a little pale. It should have brought Brooklyn joy considering
their last conversation a day ago, but seeing that expression mirrored on everyone but the
always stoic Fury made her worry. What did they think she’d done?

"FRIDAY" Stark yelled, "Assemble the rest of the Avengers here. We have something
important to discuss"

Brooklyn concealed her knife under the throw-over as all eyes turned her way, confirmation
whatever this was that required the summoning of the heroes in the compound WAS her fault.
If this turned into a fight, she’d be ready for it… no matter that her own flesh and blood, or
that her own sestra would be against her.

Strangely, the Avengers weren’t trying to kill her, but the summoning ended up being for the
opposite purpose. One she had not been expecting. And...it had been important.

Probably the second moment in time that had changed her life forever.
 Cheeseburgers

Brooklyn POV-

'Today's news story is about the one and only Tony Stark, head of Stark Industries, and the
Iron man himself'

'The billionaire has been the spark of news all over the world when a file was leaked from the
Avengers compound this afternoon'

'The source of the information is a hacker who wishes to remain unnamed. He claimed the
servers the Avengers utilize were going into maintenance, making them vulnerable to attacks.
The alien fanatic had been looking for further information on the life forms the government is
aware of, but stumbled across a new file detailing a secret about the famous superhero'

The female news anchor’s voice was drowned out by the male voice coming from the other
hologram monitor, this one of local news of New York. One Brook often watched at the
diner.

'The leaked information details that Mr.Stark has a biological daughter under the alias of
Brooklyn Rosa Jones. A secret daughter!'

Brook's face instantly fell onto her hands, slowly crashing atop the table’s smooth surface
while she attempted to tune out the eight different monitors talking about today's latest gossip
from a few minutes ago. That quickly, the fire had spread into an uncontrollable mass whose
metaphorical heat she could already feel.

Despite no longer having her eyes on the monitors, Brook could still hear the various people
in different languages describe innocent little facts about her that anyone could have found.
After spending a good chunk of her life trying to remain invisible, this felt like a slap to the
face.

Wishing she could rip out her ears, Brooklyn scoffed as a woman's sweet voice said, 'Miss
Stark is a junior student at Adelphi Academy High School. A smart girl no doubt taught by
her father'

Bullshit.

A man's deep voice, in French, announced, 'There is no information on who the mother is, but
it could explain why things with the ex- CEO of Stark Industries, Ms. Virginia "Pepper" Potts
didn't seem to work out'

Also Bullshit. Though this time it was Brooklyn that heard a scoff from where Anthony Stark
was standing by.

One of the more flamboyant news channels with two hosts of bright and annoying
personalities exclaimed ridiculous theories like, 'Perhaps she's been kept a secret from all of
us for her safety? If I were an Avenger, I'd like to keep my children away from dangerous
situations' or Brook's personal favorite of, 'Do we know if the parents divorced? Will she be
the new inheritor of Stark Industries, raised in the shadows for her big debut as future CEO?'

Familiar news stations like CBS, The Daily Planet, Fox News, NBC, and even the Gotham
News Network that always had an abundance of important crime stories and breaking news
took the time to share their opinion. She’d become a reality to the world a few minutes ago,
and suddenly it was like everything mattered about her. Like they’d eat her alive.

In that moment, sitting in the Avenger's conference room, Brook realized seeing Stark in her
apartment wasn't the most terrifying moment of her life. Without a doubt, this topped it.

The group sitting around her was silent as they stared up at the monitors, while Fury and
Stark leaned on the wall behind them. Everyone had the good sense to look terrified. Even
though none of Brooklyn’s valuable personal information had been leaked by the looks of it,
there was a chance it would pop up eventually.

Despite the cold air conditioning swirling around in the room, Brook felt her brow beginning
to sweat with trepidation.

"All of this from some Area 51 believer" Brook scoffed, earning everyone's attention away
from the screens. But she didn't care, not as she followed that statement with a string of
curses in Russian only her sestra and Wanda flinched at.

"Why was the system even going into emergency maintenance?" Clint asked, tapping a pen
repeatedly along the edge of the table.

It was Stark who answered, finally joining them at the head of the table.

"Because of the security breach, FRIDAY ran a stronger program to create better defenses
here. That guy must have hacked in the 3.4 split seconds when the program becomes
vulnerable" Tony said, "Just enough to fish a plankton-sized catch of information"

The news anchors kept talking, filling in the silence of the room as they beheld images of
news trucks outside Brook's apartment gate, and photos of her from the various Academic
Decathlon competitions over the years popping up on the various screens. She'd only joined
that nonsense because it was the only way she'd get into the school for free.

Brooklyn should've known better, realized that it would be too much exposure. A few free
meals a day weren't worth this moment.

Despite only appearing angry on the outside, Brook felt like someone had reached down her
throat, taken her small intestine, fished it out, and choked her with it.

Even the crime capital of the world was fixated on her! That’s how she knew things were
bad, the kind of exposure that wouldn't just vanish.

With a loud groan, Brook pulled her red hair until she felt the force in her scalp as a way to
hold back the enormous screams that threatened to leave her body. Now she couldn't go back
to her apartment or her snobby school, distasteful as it was. Before, it was easy to be invisible
since everyone ignored her as soon as they found out she was dirt poor and had no interesting
family standing. Now, the student body would be crawling over each other to talk to
Brooklyn like they had to the governor's daughter that arrived last year.

Brooklyn's diner job would also be infinitely more difficult, if not impossible to remain
anonymous. Likely filled with the everyday question of, 'You kind of look like Stark's
daughter? Wow, somehow that's incredible!'

Beside her, Spider-man stared at the screens attentively, and uttered a whispered, "Wow"

"Yeah, do that for a few more hours and you might be where I am right now!" Brooklyn
yelled, standing from her seat and letting the chair roll away violently so she could go lean
against the large windows overlooking the front courtyard down below.

After banging her head on the glass a few times, the voices from the screens were still there,
and Brook had never hated being taught so many languages as a child as she did now. Getting
lost in an unknown set of words would have been very nice right about now.

"Do we know who did it?" Rogers asked calmly, sitting poised back at the table.

Fury confirmed the man responsible had been taken into SHIELD custody for illegal
attainment of government secrets, but due to the large press this secret had received, they
couldn't just keep his prosecution a secret. Meaning, they'd have to handle this very carefully,
and very publicly too.

After the Civil War between the Avengers, the reveal of Hydra within SHIELD, and some
sort of conflict between the Bat of Gotham and Metropolis' Superman...the world was very
weary of heroes. Meaning the political climate wasn’t at its finest when it came to heroes,
what they should do and the secrets they should keep as public figures.

Even Brook had often found herself thinking that maybe heroes couldn't be trusted, not just
because Stark was her father or because of some Red Room idealism. If she were still a
normal civilian, or at least fooling herself into thinking she was one, Brook might have kept
up with the story of another superhero scandal just as enthusiastically as people were doing
now with her.

If the government killed or silenced the hacker, the world would know...something like that
would probably bring a few headaches Fury's way. That would be more than fine with her,
but unfortunately, those pains would likely transfer onto her as well.

Though it was hard to think past her own panic, she understood that these heroes were
currently on probation of sorts and couldn't afford a scandal, as Fury had just stated to the
room.

No one disagreed.

"Give a press conference. Provide a statement before these people can continue speculating
or digging deeper into this" War Machine suggested, “We set the record straight on our
terms”

When the teen turned back to face the room, she saw the Colonel was already on his phone,
likely contacting the government for some sort of solution. A government that might have
questions and speculations of their own. Fantastic.

Brook shifted her gaze towards Natasha, who had turned away from the table to stare at the
teen while the others kept their gazes on the screens. Looking at her sestra seated amongst
those at the table, she figured it was about time she call her by her American name. Though
both were traitors to the Red Room, now working as American spies, there was something
different about Natasha of SHIELD.

These past days had finally led her to understand that there was an important distinction, one
that perhaps made her less of an ally. She was one of them, of the cherished heroes little kids
looked up to. Brooklyn, despite their identical upbringings, would never be that.

Natasha’s posture was immaculate, showcasing nothing but control and calm. But those eyes,
they looked into Brook’s soul, as if searching for the panic the teen was working very hard to
remain unseen.

"Eto ne konets sveta, sestra. V kontse kontsov eto dolzhno bylo sluchit'sya" Natasha said,
ignoring the raised brows from the Captain and Spider-man seated beside her.

Brooklyn gripped the curtains by her side. Was that supposed to make it all better!?

This is not the end of the world, sister. Eventually, it would have happened.

It wouldn't have happened if Tony Stark hadn't brought her into this circus. If Fury hadn't
forced her to stay. How was she supposed to calm down at a time like this? How was she
supposed to believe this was an outcome that could not be avoided?

Suddenly standing beside her, Stark said, "Can we please stick to English right now? My
head hurts and I feel like you two are secretly talking about me"

Looking up at the man, Brooklyn couldn't help the frown she felt forming across her
forehead. She also couldn’t help ripping that velvety curtain right off its hinges, its sound
echoing across the room, making the man beside her flinch aside to avoid getting hit.

"Not everything is about you Mr. Stark," she said with laced venom, spreading a tense silence
across the conference room. Even halting the typing on the Colonel's phone.

"Aren't you listening to the news? They're dropping my name every three seconds. I think
this is very much about me!" Stark replied, anger evident in his features even when his eyes
kept switching between watching her and beholding the curtain on the floor between them.

Brook couldn't help taking a few steps closer, not giving a damn about the cluster of cloth
that she stepped over, one that was likely worth more than her apartment building. One
currently being swarmed by the press…
Fists clenched in a small attempt to restrain her anger, Brooklyn mocked, "Oh! Satan's
minions at work again! Making Tony Stark the center of attention! Poor you!"

A large hand settled on Stark's shoulder, belonging to the Captain. At some point, he’d stood
without her knowing, and now moved to try to pull Stark away.

"Maybe we all need a few minutes to process this alone," Rogers said in such a pacifying
tone that just made Brook angrier.

Stark brushed Rogers’ hand off harshly, clearly equally as fed up as she was, but it was the
tin can that dared to take a few steps closer to Brooklyn first.

"You do realize what this is right? What this could do? What it means?" Stark yelled back at
Brook, as if she were a small child to be scolded. Brooklyn would not let that stand,
especially since this was all his fault and his ego was just too large to comprehend.

Somewhere far away from her oozing anger, Brook heard Natasha's words of reprimand, as
well as the feeling of a feminine hand now on her own shoulder. The girl brushed it off
harshly as well, no matter who it belonged to.

"Well then, Drama Princess. Maybe you should change your tone because somewhere,
Sandra Bernhard wants her tantrum back!" Brook yelled back, subtly inching her hand closer
to the left side of her hip where her kitchen knife was hidden underneath the borrowed gray
sweater she wore.

"Oh please, this is serious!" Stark countered, loud enough to drown out the news.

"Right, because this could mess up your image right?" she yelled back, fed up at last, "It
won't matter that the life I spent years building on my own has turned to ashes! Maybe my
small life was nothing compared to your glamorous existence, but it was MINE! Now, I will
forever have it tied to yours, a man who doesn't want his inconvenient assassin daughter
making life harder for him!"

When Stark's eyes went wide, Brook didn't have the chance to gloat before she felt another
hand on her shoulder pulling her back along with Natasha's. Spider-man's masked face
appeared beside her, and with his strength, she was forced to relent a few steps.

Before her, Rogers and Clint were pulling Stark back as well, whispering words to his ears
when he tried to shrug them off.

This was all ridiculous.

She was still seething in anger, itching for a fight since fighting was the only emotion she was
taught to do successfully. But despite all of that, Brooklyn had never felt weaker…she’d
never felt more exposed. It was unsettling, to say the least. Felt like a permanent ache in her
chest she wanted nothing more than to be rid of.

Pushing her way out of the grips against her arms, Brook angrily stomped to the door, trying
to keep the surprising emerging tears at bay. She wouldn't cry in front of these people, not
now or ever. Fury had made it very clear that leaving them was not an option unless she
wanted some very unfortunate jail time, but that didn’t mean she had to stay in this room,
listening to an idiot ranting about how much of an inconvenience her simple existence was.

On her way out, she took the black file (the one Vision had given her) from the table, not
bothering to make eye contact with anyone or respond to their calls. She knew no one would
follow, from what she’d observed in school and at work, people only went after those they
cared for, an attempt to ease emotions.

No one here would even think of trying to ease her on duress, but in case heroic mandates
dictated they had to, Brooklyn snapped, "I need a fucking cheeseburger. I'm going down to
the staff cafeteria while you guys decide MY future. Don't worry Mr. Stark, I won't cause any
more problems for you there"

Then without an ounce of hesitation, Brook slammed the door closed, hearing the glass rattle
as she did so. Rattle but not break…just like her.

After practically throwing the shiny new credit card from her SHIELD files at the cashier,
Brook grabbed her three wrapped burgers and stormed out of the dining hall.

Though she’d pondered on it in the elevator, everyone on the lounge floor was staring at her,
whispering and pointing enough that Brook damned the possible consequences of not staying
within the confines of the building and stormed outside into the courtyard, shocked that
FRIDAY had let her out the front door.

Out there, the air was fresh, and the afternoon was a gentle shade of orange and red hues. The
sky was not clear of rain clouds today, and a heavy pour would be inevitable to avoid soon
enough. Still, the assassin continued to make her way somewhere far from the staring and the
passing cars that always seemed to slow down by her.

Her head was spinning, and her anger was so powerful she could almost feel the heat
emanating from her body. If she didn't cool down, Brook might just end up killing someone
out of frustration, which would definitely make matters worse than they already were.

After a few steps, the wind began picking up enough that Brook had to shift her burgers and
folder on one hand while using the other to keep her cursed skirt down. It didn't help that the
gray sweater was too thin to protect her body from the cold, but after the burning heat of her
anger, its cooling effect was a welcome discomfort.

The girl walked past the crowded areas outside, making a beeline for those places outside
agents were not headed towards. Eventually, she found a small cluster of white and pink
magnolia trees in full bloom, and despite the sudden pain from the injury she'd sustained on
her stomach, Brook settled down against one of the larger trunks, facing away from the
distant gossip and chaos.

Carefully taking the large kitchen knife out of her sweater where she'd tucked it into her skirt,
Brooklyn laid it beside her, next to the large white flowers that lay fallen everywhere around
her. Their beauty and gentleness disgusted her, enough that she stomped a few.
Furiously unwrapping one burger, she took a bite of the greasy goodness, sending a mental
middle finger to Rogers' commercial about healthy eating habits. The only thing that could
make her feel better at a moment like this would be her favorite food, one they thankfully had
at the Avengers compound. If there hadn't been any cheeseburgers, she might have lost it.

After a few bites of her surprisingly delicious food, it occurred to Brook that maybe three
burgers wouldn't be enough. Not for this particular dilemma.

What if people continued to make her life difficult after this? More importantly, what if the
remnants of the Red Room found her thanks to this mess? Surely someone that knew of her
true identity had survived all these years.

After a third bite of the surprisingly tasty burger, drops of rain began making themselves
known, and by the time the heavy flow of rain fell down on her, Brook continued taking bites
of her soggy burgers with an equally soggy attitude.

Even as she felt her attire coldly clinging to her body, Brooklyn just stared at the expanse
before her, one becoming increasingly camouflaged by the curtain of rain. Hopefully
obscuring her from view as well.

Brook made certain for the fifth time in the past two minutes, that her file was tucked safe to
the only spot on the ground the foliage above kept dry from the rain. She'd frown at the name
on the file, then eat, then stare up at nothing as she let the petrichor scent fill her senses.

Past the panicked thoughts in her mind, her brain contemplated the idea of running away,
risking having both SHIELD and the Red Room on her tail for the many troubled years to
come. With her photo out to the public, she'd have to at least dye her hair. Luckily, she'd
always wanted to be a blonde, even when she loved her wild auburn hair the way it was.

Still, some part of her knew there were too many obstacles in that plan to make it work…one
of which was the steps approaching her vicinity.

Why would anyone come to see her? To make sure she hadn't escaped yet?

At first, Brook had expected the approaching steps to belong to Stark, then she thought better
of it and knew he'd be the last person to come check up on her. That thought didn’t help the
sinking feeling in her traitorous heart.

Spider-man seemed like a sentimental enough man that, for whatever reason, could pretend to
care about her well-being. But these steps were odd, unhurried. They didn't fit the panicked
steps the hero possessed.

"You'd best leave me be, sestra" Brook said just above a whisper, still playing with the empty
yellow wrappers of her finished food. She was not in the mood to talk to Natasha at all. She
even considered cursing at her in Russian for holding her back earlier, but the woman was
still a much superior widow than Brooklyn, with many more years of training under her belt.

Even in all her anger, the girl knew that would be a mistake. A fight she would not win.
For a few seconds, Brooklyn hoped those words would encourage Natasha to leave her be,
but the steps just neared her vicinity further. As rain fell around her, clinging to her eyelashes,
Brook huddled closer to herself as she fought to keep her tears of frustration from being seen
by her nearing sestra.

Brook would not allow such a weakness, she’d NEVER let anyone see the evidence of such
an emotion. Never would.

But once the person came into view, face appearing beneath the cover of a black umbrella,
Brook realized it wasn't her sestra that had tracked her down after all. It was someone she'd
never met, a figure that sparked Brook out of her self-pity and into action as she picked up
her kitchen knife.
 Salt and Pepper

Brooklyn POV-

Out of all the outcomes she'd thought of for the rest of this miserable day, this was definitely
not one of them.

Still soaked from the rain, Brooklyn watched as water dripped down onto the red leather
couch she currently sat on. Beside her, Stark was also staring at the ground, finding it equally
as interesting as they were both getting the scolding of their lives.

When an elegant woman had stood before the teen outside the compound in the midst of the
rain, Brook had drawn the kitchen knife in seconds, ready to gut the person who dared step in
on her alone time. The woman hadn't seemed fazed by her weapon, just frowned at her.

In a voice that was nothing but raw command, she'd summoned Brooklyn under the umbrella,
whispering nonsense about her catching a cold the whole way back to the compound.

Brook had been too startled by her to bother complaining.

It took a little longer than it should have, but the familiar face of the once CEO of Stark
Industries came to mind eventually during the elevator ride back to the Avengers’ floor. It
came just as the woman introduced herself as Virginia Potts, but kindly asked to be called
Pepper.

In all her years, Brooklyn had done her best to avoid any and all news involving Stark and his
company for her own sanity. She’d come across one or two instances in which she’d followed
the news, but for the most part, she knew about as much as she had back in the Red Room.
Pepper was one of those barely explored pieces that didn't fit what Brook had imagined
would fit into Stark’s life.

This woman was the lover Fury had spoken of, a woman of great power but also someone
who had made a playboy a grieving man in her absence. She didn’t know or care about how
serious their relationship was, it wasn’t her business.

Despite that, there was something about this woman that caused Brook to remain in some sort
of docile state the whole way back. She thought it might've been the raw exhaustion from the
situation, but when Ms. Potts had handed over her coat and asked Brook to put it on, the girl
actually shrunk under the commanding gaze and did as she was told.

It wasn't until Brooklyn put the coat on that its warmth felt like a small relief.

When they arrived at the Avenger's floors (after many curious stares from workers and staff),
it was Stark that first noticed them. Even in a living room full of screaming Avengers, Tony
Stark's eyes grew wide with joy, and the smile that came across his face was indescribable.

Could faces even stretch that much?

But the fond look wasn't directed at Brooklyn.

Not that she was expecting that, much less after their argument.

He'd tried to run over to the ex-CEO beside the teen, clearly intending on crushing Pepper
into a hug. Instead, the woman stared Stark dead in the eye with a look that even the soaked
Brooklyn had to turn away from.

Both were led to Stark's office alone, sat on a couch, all while the woman leaned against the
large desk while frowning at them both.

"I leave for thirteen months, THIRTEEN months Tony, and this is what happens?" Pepper
yelled so loudly that despite the soundproofing, it was likely the Avengers a few doors down
could hear it all.

Though the question wasn't directed towards Brook, she actually shrank further into herself,
even when the wet clothes around her body just made her colder.

"In my defense, this was rather unexpected," Stark said, making pleading hands at his lover.

To Brooklyn's surprise, Pepper didn't seem fazed.

"This girl was out in the rain, Tony! She could have gotten sick!" she yelled back, effectively
shutting him up with a pout, then turned that spine-chilling look towards Brooklyn.

"And you!" Brook had to point at herself in confusion. Was Ms. Potts yelling at her?

"Yes, you! What were you thinking, staying out there? You're lucky Happy called me as soon
as this news story hit the air and that the jet that dropped me off landed just in time to see you
disappear into the forest line”

Was Brook seriously getting scolded by a stranger? Like hell she would…

"Who do you think you are to yell at me!? You can’t give me orders, I'm a trained assassin
you know!" Brooklyn yelled back, meeting the woman's intense green eyes, a different green
from Natasha’s. These eyes were not cold and calculating, hiding a thousand secrets…these
eyes were kind despite the woman’s rattled state, but held a strength behind them that
Brooklyn did not quite understand.

They had a sort of staring contest, in which Brook threw all her will into.

This woman was rather average. Clearly no special fighting skills, or off-the-charts
intelligence. But that strength about her….it actually made Brook relent for the first time in
her life since the Red Room days. Looking back down at the floor, Brooklyn realized she'd
been a fool to be afraid of the Hulk when this so-called Pepper Potts existed.

She hadn't even lasted a twenty second staring match without relenting.

"You deserve to be yelled at for your foolish behavior! And Tony is an idiot for not going
after you!" the woman added, unphased.
At this new accusation, Stark stood up straighter, frowning at the woman.

"She's the one making things difficult, Pep. How was I supposed to know where she went?"
the billionaire said, once again flaring up the hot anger Brook thought the rain had cooled
down.

Pushing back her damp hair, she slammed her black folder on the coffee table before them,
standing up to tower over Stark. The comfort of the cheeseburgers long gone.

"You imbecile! Don't you realize you've ruined my life!?" Brook yelled, causing 'Mr. All
About Me' to stand up in challenge.

Stark's frown deepened, pointing a finger her way, "Is being related to me that much of a
tragedy? It's not as if you're related to Jack the Ripper, Daphne!"

If he called her that one more time…

Brook looked up at him with disdain, then spat, "Like you're such a prize! I'd rather invite
Jack The Rippper to lunch than sit here with—"

A scream broke out against the room, louder than Brook's voice.

"SIT DOWN! Both of you. NOW!"

Both assassin and hero compiled without another word.

Brooklyn followed with her gaze as the woman pushed away from the table, fixing her black
dress against invisible wrinkles, then pointed at the screen mounted on the wall before the
scolded pair. It wasn't on, so all Brook could see was her pathetic soaked form, letting itself
be yelled at by a stranger.

Pepper's yelling had subsided, but her strong voice remained as she pointed out, "You guys
do realize that as you're fighting amongst yourselves, the situation keeps getting worse out
there?"

When neither replied, Ms. Potts moved to stand before them, arms crossed. She raised a brow
in expectation, waiting.

Brooklyn considered sending both adults to hell and risking Fury's wrath just by leaving the
compound, permanently this time. But those green eyes...

"Yes, ma'am" "Yes, Pepper" both said in unison rather defeatedly towards the woman.

The woman, seemingly satisfied, continued pacing around the room, taking the time to point
at Brooklyn first. The first victim of Pepper’s attention.

"I don't care if you don't want Tony as your father, that's who he is, you can't change it. You
can either keep whining like a child, or act like an adult and accept it"
Brook was flabbergasted. There was no other word to describe the actual shock rushing
through her veins, especially since the teen actually began to feel guilty for her behavior. That
is, until she looked Stark's way.

"I didn't do anything!" Brook argued with arms crossed as water droplets continued to drip all
around her, "He's the one who said he didn't want a daughter!"

Those cold green eyes whipped towards the man beside Brook.

Stark, who'd been fidgeting with his tie suddenly sprung straighter, "Hey! She said she didn't
want a father!"

Before their banter could pick up momentum again, Miss Potts stopped them, demanding to
know how this situation had all happened in the first place. Though Brook barely caught it,
Pepper seemed almost hurt when she asked Stark how long he’d known about having a
daughter, something that had the man shaking his head, as if all of this was wrong and needed
fixing.

Brooklyn was no expert on emotions, much less romantic ones. But he could almost wager
that Stark was afraid of hurting Ms. Pott’s emotions. In turn, the woman might act strict and
demanding, but there was a trace of betrayal seeping onto her face.

Brook was in the middle of it all, unfortunately.

Pushing their anger aside for a second, they both explained Brook's origin, Stark's trip to her
home for recruitment, the confession about her birth after the blood tests, and their ultimate
dislike for each other since.

After a few seconds of processing everything, Pepper did the last thing Brook expected. The
woman laughed, a sound that echoed along with the loud thunder happening outside where a
storm now raged.

When Brooklyn shot the woman a confused look, Ms. Potts actually rolled her eyes.

"I've had to deal with the sass and stupidity of one Stark for the better part of my life. Now I
have two..." she said to no one in particular, staring up at the light fixtures above.

Brooklyn wanted to argue that his last name was not hers, but Pepper wasn't having any more
interruptions. After challenging the woman once and losing, Brook wasn’t willing to risk
defeat again anyways.

Besides…there was something about being included in Pepper’s life that gave her pause. It
was as if, that easily, Pepper had decided to make Brooklyn her problem…someone as much
a part of her life as Stark. It was an unsettling idea, but one the teen had no clue how to
process, so she kept quiet in case the woman had misspoken.

"This stops today" she commanded, "If you two weren't so alike, maybe none of this would
be happening and we could all sort this out properly"

Alike? How on earth was Brooklyn anything like this self-absorbed idiot beside her?
Pepper finally settled down on one of the comfy chairs in the room, and to Brook's horror, it
was the one closest to her side of the couch. Damned Stark even dared breathe a sigh of
relief.

"This is how life is gonna work from now on" the ginger-haired woman announced, waiting
until both hero and assassin nodded before continuing, "I don't care if you don't like it, but
family does NOT fight with each other. Both of you need to understand that in a situation like
this, you need to stick together, that means at least trying to get along"

Sick together? Was this woman insane!?

That terrifying look shot her way challenged Brook's strength of will again, and it was then
the girl reluctantly relented that maybe she could stick together with Stark for better chances
of social survival. Yep, sticking together. Not a bad plan.

Pepper nodded at the silence in the room, then pushed a notepad and a pen across the coffee
table towards Stark.

"Tony, you're gonna give a speech. Sort this stuff out before it blows everything out of
proportion. Brooklyn is your daughter, and in their eyes, we'll just say that you've been
keeping her on the down low so she could live a normal life"

Brooklyn's eyes almost popped out of their sockets as she held back a laugh at the ridiculous
lie. Laughed nervously, that is, knowing full well whatever happened in this office would
dictate the rest of her life.

"That's the opposite of what he did. He brought me in to stop criminals which means risking
my life…" Brook dared to whisper, only stopping when she received a weak elbow shove
from her 'father'.

"Though I don't like the idea of children fighting, much less any enemies the Avengers are
qualified to deal with, if Fury and Tony both think you can do this then I won't argue against
it. But if it ever becomes too much, you come to me and we can talk things through" Pepper
said, placing one of her gentle and unscarred hands atop Brook's.

Her first instinct was to retract from the touch, but once Pepper sensed the apprehension her
hold became softer, and after a few pats, the woman pulled her hand back all on her own.

What did Pepper mean about it becoming too much? Did she mean failure to complete her
mission? Was that some sort of way of challenging the capability of Brooklyn's abilities?

Again, the woman's face softened and she eyed the black file on the table.

"I understand that your life is going to change drastically. Mine did too when I started dating
Tony, becoming something more than his assistant," Pepper explained, "but it wasn't all bad,
or as terrifying as you imagine. He was worth it. And I know that with some guidance, he
will be a good father to you, Brooklyn"
Brook tried and failed to understand how this simple woman could go from terrifying her, to
placating the turmoil in her mind. It wasn't logical in the slightest, but the girl nodded all the
same.

Pepper Potts then turned that same gentle look towards the man beside Brook, who stared at
her like she was the shining sun on a rainy day. He’d fish out stars from the sky for Pepper,
Brooklyn realized. With one simple look, the teen that knew nothing of devotion or adoration
once again became aware that such mysterious forces were at play here.

Maybe Stark would never care for Brooklyn be it because of her past or because of what she
meant for his future, but there was something between those two adults that felt stronger than
any punch or kick she could dish out.

Some silent understanding passed between the two adults, woven between that strange
fondness they shared. It made her feel like she was intruding, but more than that, it bothered
her that Stark wasn’t acting as her predetermined notions of him should be.

Almost as if…this was a different, hidden side of the man the Red Room had described with
only the foulest of attributes.

"Tony, Brook is your responsibility now, all of our responsibilities. Maybe she's not
comfortable living here yet, but we can work little by little to make that possible" Pepper
said, motioning once again to the blank yellow pages on Stark's lap.

"Luckily for both of you, I've had to put out Stark fires with the press for years," she added,
slightly earning Brook's respect. This man was a hassle, and the teen knew that after only
truly being around him for less than a day.

"Does that mean you're staying?" Stark asked hopefully, all the flamboyant sass in him
replaced with a hopeful doe-eyed stare.

Ms. Potts nodded, to both of their relief. Brook wasn't even certain why she'd be relieved at
all, but something about this woman was reassuring despite the terrifying glares.

She wanted Pepper to stay.

Then, the assassin noticed how the woman began to trace a finger along the base of her ring
finger. Brook thought it might've been a nervous tick until she recalled a press conference
from over a year ago. Brooklyn had been on her way home when the streets of Brooklyn
boomed with screaming. Al first, the young girl thought it was some sort of attack or robbery
and continued to go about her walk. Then she'd heard some interesting words from a couple
walking down the street.

Pepper Potts and Tony Stark finally decided to get engaged! About time those two love birds
got together!

The young girl had been paralyzed in the middle of the street for a few seconds. All she could
think about was that her birth father was getting married. At the time, Brook decided not to
ponder on it. She'd had no plans of ever revealing herself as his daughter, but it had left a
bitter thought festering inside her head for the days to come.

If Stark was getting married that would mean he'd gain family, something Brooklyn did not
have.

Now, as she sat down on the soggy couch, that angered feeling was significantly reduced.
Seeing as Pepper wasn't just a blank stranger's face any more...something about the idea
seemed less annoying. But there was no ring. Meaning they'd had to have called the wedding
off at some point.

Pepper gazed down at the table, averting her eyesight from them for the first time since this
whole thing started. With a saddened tone Brook hadn't heard from the woman, she added, to
Stark specifically, "That doesn't mean we're back together, Tony. But I will stay to help all of
you figure this out, because we're in this together, a family now"

Brook wasn't sure yet again if she was included in that statement, but Pepper sounded
confident enough that the girl just sat and watched the adults plan, surprising her sometimes
when they asked for her opinion on things.

Maybe Brooklyn had no idea what to think or do, the man next to her didn't either. But
Pepper Potts had a plan, and for some reason, Brook decided to trust her.

Trust did not come easy to her, never had. But for the woman who had extended out an
umbrella on a rainy day, who had offered the first gentle touch Brooklyn had felt in her life…
the teen decided that was enough not to run the first chance she got.

She’d play this dangerous game, embrace this ridiculous lie. Brook just hoped it didn’t blow
up in her face, because if that happened, she very well never be able to dare trust anyone ever
again.
 The Rewritten Past

Brooklyn POV-

By midnight, many things had been accomplished.

One of those was not her peace of mind or sanity.

Currently, Brook was trying to get comfortable on her temporary bed for the night to no avail.
Though the room was 'hers', especially now that she was both a recruit and a Stark, she'd
found it difficult to truly settle down after the events of the day.

The rain still poured outside her shut windows, creating enough noise that Brooklyn
reluctantly turned on the TV to try to tone out the storm outside, and the one within her own
heart. That was a quick disappointment.

On-screen, no matter which channel she opted for, her...father...was there, footage of him
giving a press conference from four hours ago still going strong despite the hour.

After finally having access to all channels on a TV, it only made sense that the universe
would despise her enough to only contain the moment that had changed her world
indefinitely rather than the massive choices of entertainment she'd once longed for.

If her life was a skipping stone on a lake, this was one of those moments that had created a
large ripple, big enough to spread through the body of water that was her world. Maybe not
just her world, but spanning every continent and country imaginable.

Brooklyn threw a decorative pillow to the floor in frustration. There was no other way to deal
with the mess that was her life that didn't involve heavy curses, which would surely wake up
her new neighbors.

"Why are sports channels even showing this stuff?" Brook whispered to herself, fed up with
seeing different points of the speech she thankfully hadn't been expected to attend.

By design, only Pepper and Tony had gathered in the conference room for it, surrounded by a
room full of cameras. No reporters had been allowed to come into the compound, not after
the attack and then the hacking, at least that was the excuse to make things a little easier.

Brook had been seated upstairs with the other Avengers, watching everything going on
downstairs within the safety of the superheroes' floor.

Before the press conference started, a few of them had tried to ease her nerves, a courtesy
they likely owed Stark as one of the members of the team. She'd paid little attention to their
worries and endless pacing (mostly from the Falcon, who insisted she call him Sam).

Her nerves were fine of course…at least she tried to make it look that way. In truth, Brook
was concerned with what would be said. She hadn't witnessed the 'final script' of the speech
because Pepper sent her off to shower off the cold rain from her body. When she'd emerged
back into the room with a blue silk pajama set from Wanda Maximoff, the group in charge of
speech making (Stark, Pepper, Fury, Rogers, and Rhodey) were seemingly satisfied with the
information on those cue cards.

Pepper had offered to let Brook read it over in case she wanted to change something, but not
wanting to owe the woman any favors, the girl had declined the offer. She already owed her
enough. But as Brook had settled in the large sitting room with the Avengers, she'd wished
otherwise.

That would be her life, after all, the lie she’d spout to every breathing being she’d encounter
from now on. Oddly enough, the knowledge that Pepper had been there to oversee the
speech-making had served to dim her nerves a surprising amount.

That still hadn’t exempted her from flinching when the news channel finally displayed the
conference room.

Once the local news screen went on, it displayed Pepper and Tony standing behind a large
podium, a giant silver sculpture of the Avengers symbol behind them like a guiding shadow.
Both had changed out of their clothes from earlier and into more proper attire for such a big
speech.

It had surprised Brooklyn how the sight of the two adults standing side by side, no longer
strangers in her mind, rattled her composure. Clad in a black suit and dress of the highest
quality that perfectly matched, even Brook’s feigned indifference couldn’t ignore the fact that
they looked like royals about to hold court, with all the world's ears listening attentively.

As for the speech itself, much to Fury's expressed relief, Stark stuck to the predetermined
cue cards. Something he was apparently notorious for rarely doing.

With a pleasant smile, the suit-less Iron Man began with some pleasant welcomes and
apologies for secrets kept, even if it was only cameras in the room listening in. Still, his voice
had been strong and true, no doubt thanks to Pepper's presence by his side.

Even if the conference had been hours ago, Brook still remembered all that was said, mostly
because it had felt like nails to a coffin of her life. It had been the beginning of a new and
unexpected chapter none of her previous training had ever prepared her for.

"I'd like to reveal a big secret today", Stark had said, then added with a smirk, "I am the
Batman"

Pepper had slapped his arm not so discreetly, even as a small smirk spread across her delicate
face on the large TV. After a small fit of laughs from the man and the heroes around
Brooklyn, Stark had continued with relative seriousness, or as much as his persona would
allow.

Arms crossed and legs curled up before her huddled form on the couch, Brooklyn had
gripped the silky fabric of her clothes as the speech continued.
"Just kidding, I think we all know why I'm here", the male on the TV had stated, "Today, a big
part of my life was revealed to the public, one that was not a stranger's to share. For many
years now, I've always believed it would be my daughter's choice to decide when this day
would come. Unfortunately, here we are, on Golden Girls re-run night"

Ok, so he'd mostly stuck to the script.

"As you have all heard, I have a daughter. Her name is Brooklyn Rosa Jones, or at least that
was her fabricated last name until today" Tony had expressed, and Brook remembered being
slightly surprised by how genuine he sounded. Perhaps being an Avenger and CEO had
granted him the ability to handle interviews and speeches with an ease she'd never
understood.

"Seventeen years ago, I met a woman named Delanor Jones, whom I grew to care about
despite my hectic life spent building up Stark Industries. She was a light in this world that
grounded me, and one I never got to marry"

"Who wrote that part?" Brooklyn had inquired with a sharp edge to her voice, on the verge of
cruel laughter at the idea of that woman being her actual mother.

Who'd chosen the name Delanor anyways?

"That was Rogers" Fury had grumbled from his place leaning against a nearby table, rolling
his eyes at the seated soldier on the couch who gazed at the TV with held back tears, moved
by his own words…and completely unaware of the head shakes and snickering going on
around him from his own peers.

Brooklyn ignored them too, her sharp brown eyes on the screen where Stark truly looked like
he meant those words, the longing, and affection behind them. Brook had been around the
couple on the screen long enough that she'd realized Stark was thinking about Pepper when
those loving sentences left his mouth. A clever trick.

"When we found out she was pregnant a year later, she begged me to keep it a secret, no
matter how overjoyed I was to shout it to the world. Dely didn't want to be in the spotlight,
under the scrutiny of the public, so she moved to Brooklyn while I stayed in Malibu" a pause,
"Not long after, Brooklyn was born, but her mother died during childbirth"

Wow. What a load of crap.

At least Brook got some hidden credit for her mother's death, a small satisfaction. At that
moment, Brooklyn had also pondered how Agent 10452 would feel about the world
remembering her as a sob story rather than a deadly spy?

Let that woman writhe with anger and frustration in her likely unlabeled grave, Brook had
thought. She was likely nothing but ashes in the remnants of what used to be the Red Room
Academy.

"Reunited with my little Brook, I decided to keep my daughter out of the judging eyes of the
world so she could have a normal and happy childhood. With the help of Ms. Potts, I was
able to raise my daughter in privacy for many years"

Years Brooklyn had spent in the Red Room, killing. Years after that living on the streets,
fighting a new sort of battle in an unknown world. Not that anyone would know that now.

Tony had paused for effect, moving the microphone around until he found his voice again.
Brook had a feeling his nervousness wasn't entirely faked, not when the next part of his
speech had been about a day that had been hard to most, especially him.

"Then came the attack in New York, and I had to leave my daughter back in Malibu until the
fight was over, and the lifestyle I chose from that day on has only made raising her more
difficult. Not much later, when the terrorist the Mandarin began to make himself known, I had
to send my daughter to Brooklyn for her safety. Good thing too, or my daughter would have
died the day my mansion was destroyed" he’d said with a weak chuckle.

Arms now around her trembling legs, Brooklyn had kept her eyes on the floor while she
recalled hearing of the Malibu attack shortly after the battle of New York. Though she hadn’t
had a proper home at the time, she'd seen it in passing along the streets of Brooklyn, on
passing screens and newspapers.

Tony Stark killed by the Mandarin at Malibu Mansion.

Though Brook hadn’t thought about it in a long time, she recalled that it had been an odd
feeling, thinking her birth father was dead. She hadn’t grieved…but it had felt like a stone
had settled into her malnourished stomach.

Thankfully, that feeling of discomfort had been short-lived, for Tony Stark had returned to
the spotlight alive and healthy days later. It was only for a few seconds during that time he
was thought to be dead that Brook had considered trying to find a way to make it to
California, if only to bid him a proper farewell from within the shambles of a leftover
mansion, much like the decaying rubble of a Red Room Academy across the world.

It had been a moment of weakness, of course, one she gladly didn't follow up on.

That had been one of the handful of times she’d pared a thought to her birth father throughout
the years. Times when she could've never imagined the day he’d address the world claiming
her as his daughter…as he was on this day.

Back on the screen during that dreaded speech, Tony even took the time to try and regain his
strength, as if the thought of Brooklyn's death pained him. It was a very convincing act, his
best by far, but Brooklyn would never fool herself into thinking it was true.

Pathetic.

"Then, after all the happenings of the past few years, I realized my job as an Avenger was
starting to get in the way of me being the best father I could be. So, while my daughter
continued living in the city of Brooklyn, we've been taking trips to visit each other. Lately, we
both realized life had settled down enough that I could have her come visit at the Avengers
compound. Unfortunately, to do that, I needed to put her information into the system, that's
why it's relatively new and was accessed so carelessly after a routine upgrade of the systems.
So much for life settling down, am I right?"

Stark laughed at his own joke, before showcasing a serious expression back at the cameras.
His next words had stayed with her, even hours after the speech was over, as she frowned up
at the ceiling of her new room.

"I ask only of two things from the public. Please don't go after my daughter for publicity.
She's had a tough life without a mother and a superhero as a dad, I think she's earned a bit of
a break, am I wrong?"

After a somber and reassuring nod from the woman by his side, Tony had added, "Pepper
and myself both agreed that it would be best to have Brooklyn closer to home now that this
information was released, so we'll have her switch schools somewhere more appropriate.
Unfortunately, the life she'd lived in secret will have to change, and we ask that you respect
that and make the transition as simple as possible for her"

Then Tony had set down his cue cards, and Brooklyn watched as Fury rolled his eyes, as if
he'd known the compliance from the man would only last so long. Meaning, that last bit of
his speech was not planned or agreed upon.

It had made her all the more curious and unnerved. Brook didn’t know what she’d been
expecting him to say, what he could possibly want to add that came from his own words and
thoughts rather than the collective work he’d done to put this speech together with the others.

What he’d said then…it had definitely not been one of those stray possibilities.

"The second thing I want to ask all those watching is not much of a request, but a warning"

Brook had straightened in her seat at the word. A warning?

Turning to look at the heroes around her, they too seemed puzzled. Fury, who’d moved
towards the door, leaning against the wall with a frown on his face, did not seem surprised in
the least by what was about to happen, not anymore. It was him that had sent Brooklyn a nod,
as if saying, pay attention to this part, it's important.

Tony Stark had made his way down from the podium with Pepper slowly walking by his side
as they neared the main camera that appeared to be streaming to most stations. The camera on
the TV before them all of them were focused on.

Brooklyn had watched with wide eyes as the man's eyes shifted into a kind of anger she
hadn’t seen yet, not in the way they normally appeared when they’d yelled at each other these
past few days.

This was something stronger than that, perhaps the true face of wrath from Tony Stark. The
face Iron Man’s enemies beheld before meeting their end.

"I know there are a lot of individuals who may have problems with me. I get that, it happens.
But if you mess with my daughter in any way, shape, or form…I will come after you. No one
will lay a finger on my little girl. And if the situation occurs when someone tries their luck to
try and get to me, it won't be just me you have to contend with," Tony had stated with a
casual shrug, "The rest of the Avengers are practically her aunts and uncles, and they will not
tolerate any harm against Brooklyn as well. To harm her is to enact our wrath… and it
wouldn’t be smart to provoke us all like that"

A smirk had returned to Stark’s face in the seconds after the threat left his mouth, as if the
previous behavior had been nothing but an illusion.

"Any questions?"

Brook had sat there in shock. Sure, she'd considered the possibility of her being Stark's
daughter as a possible danger to her person…nothing she couldn't handle of course, but she'd
always expected to fight it alone after today. But he'd meant it, Stark would protect her.

The others around her who’d heard the words appeared to agree as well without even needing
to be asked to keep her safe. They nodded, sending a few thumbs-up her way while she’d sat
there, stunned.

It felt odd even now, to have a group of people willing to fight for her.

The only person who'd ever bothered with safety concerns about her was her boss at the
diner, but that was his job. These people knew the truth of her beginnings and had her
unkindness towards them from the past few days to judge upon. They had no need to defend
Brook or promise to come to her aid...yet they did. Just like the Spiderling had despite her
hatred and threats.

Brook hadn’t seen much of how the questions segment worked with only cameras in the
room afterward, but she and the heroes in the living room had all heard the questions loud
and clear regardless.

Of course, the first questions had not been easy ones.

Mr. Stark, will your daughter inherit your company?

Brook had laughed out loud, the first reaction she’d let show, stunning those around her. It
was comical really, her, a CEO sitting behind a desk doing paperwork for a living? She was
an assassin, not an heiress. Or...at least she hadn't been yesterday.

Stark’s hesitating silence ended her cruel laughter.

The silence made it harder to ignore now, the realization that Pepper had been right. Things
would change from now on, and all the teen could do was adapt and survive. Widows were
trained to do so in any situation, therefore, Brook would accomplish just that. Even if this
wasn't the life she'd envisioned.

In truth, Brook didn't even think she'd envisioned a future before, and maybe that made
things easier now.
Back on the TV, Stark adjusted the mic before him on the podium, playing around with its
position before staring down at the camera to reply with words that would further seal
Brook’s fate

"That's not up to me. What kind of father decides the profession of their child? Well, I guess
mine did" he’d joked, "But to answer your question, only time will tell. I know she can do it
well, she's my daughter after all, but it's her choice. She is still the top contender though"

Brook didn't realize she'd breathed a sigh of relief until she felt the attention of the heroes
around her shift to her. It had been relief they’d heard…because being CEO of that company
would be too close to what the Red Room had wanted. Knowing she had a chance to drift off
from that was liberating in so many ways.

Of course, it could be a lie like most of the speech that was given. After all, how could Stark
trust her with his life’s work after knowing what she was born to do with it?

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, another news anchor had taken the stage, this time with
a video feed of him and his team back at the studio they belonged to. The middle-aged men
were smiling brightly, expressing how moved they were by Tony's words and love for his
daughter.

When Brook scoffed at that, she'd caught Spider-man's attention a cushion down. Still, in his
suit underneath another Star Wars hoodie, the annoying pest of her life shot her a sympathetic
head tilt. She hadn't bothered to acknowledge it before turning back to the monitor, arms
clutching her legs tightly as she'd hid her face behind her knees, intent on keeping the rest of
her emotions hidden behind closed doors.

The man on TV who was rocking an awful spray tan went first.

"Will we ever get to speak to your daughter Mr.Stark? We understand the need for privacy,
but I'm sure the world would love to know more about her. Will she be attending company
events with you now that her identity is out?"

Oh yes, her privacy was important to them, but they also didn't give a shit, huh? That man
was lucky he wasn't worth the visit to Washington DC, or his outdated tie clip would be
buried deep into his neck by morning.

Human ignorance. How she hated it...

Mr. Stark smiled regardless, leaning both elbows on the wooden podium.

"Stark Industries has many events we host and attend every year. It would be impossible to
pull my daughter out of school for all of them. But yes, perhaps she will come with dear old
dad to some of them for work experience"

THAT she hadn't agreed to.

Brooklyn recalled being close to jumping out of the couch to better yell at the screen to no
avail until her sestra stretched out a hand her way.
"He had no choice," Natasha had said from her place on the love seat leaning against Clint's
shoulder. The woman in Captain America pajamas waved a lazy hand at the screen, frowning
at the people within.

"If he'd said no, reporters would go out of their way to find you at school. If they're promised
public event attendance, then the media will be more lenient and relaxed. That way they
avoid getting sued by us while still getting special content on the hottest story. It's why the
Avengers attend public events and go to charity parties. Not just to look good or do our duty,
but to placate the media"

Brook couldn't have argued with that logic. She was too inexperienced with the assets of a
very public life, having lived in the shadows for so long it all seemed so foreign and
ridiculous. But everyone in the room knew what Natasha meant, they had all lived it. Or at
least it seemed like it by the way they frowned at the screen, but made no move to challenge
Natasha.

"Mne vse yeshche eto ne nravitsya" Brook had mumbled, crashing back down on the couch.

I still don't like it, she'd said.

Natasha had the audacity to laugh, stealing a slice of dried prune Clint was in the process of
eating as she'd replied, "Nikomu ne nravitsya. No eto ne ub'yet tebya"

Nobody does. But it won't kill you.

She'd wanted to argue that fact. Things like assassins still existed in the world. Someone
could go and shoot Brook at a public event, and that WOULD kill her! But arguing with her
sestra would've taken too much energy, and that was something Brook was running low on
after helping SHIELD contact her 'adoptive parents' prior to the speech so they could be
persuaded to keep their money-whoring beaks shut.

With a stifled groan, the teen recalled that before the press and her shower, Brook's last drags
of energy had been used up with that particular task of ending ties with her old life. It had
been a little rushed, and none of the agents that came to carry out specific tasks seemed all
that bothered that they were about to destroy a person's previous life.

The issue with her adoptive parents had been rather simple to solve. Fury called their home in
New Orleans, said Brook WAS Tony Stark's daughter and that she'd been put for 'fake
adoption' for her safety. Of course, the director shouldn't have bothered with all those lies,
after suggesting a bit of cash in exchange for silence on Brook's adoption and inconsistencies
they might hear during the public speech, her useless 'parents' didn't need more persuading.
After that quick call that left all in the room fuming and silent for some reason, Fury was
only left to deal with the matter of silencing Brook’s apartment complex neighbors, making
sure they wouldn't go to the media with exclusive stories on Stark's daughter.

Some agent who introduced himself as an old friend of her 'father' went off to do just that, as
well as gather her stuff from the apartment she'd called home for years.
Brook had made sure to explain he should ignore the scattered weapons around her home.
That it was nothing more than self-defense artifacts as a result of living in a dangerous
neighborhood. No one other than the Avengers would know of her assassin background by
Fury's order, but this particular agent didn't seem convinced by her excuse.

The gentle-looking man had just smiled and nodded, assuring her the weapons would be
disposed of so no one would know. Though Brook would mourn the weapons she'd
personally enhanced and perfected, it was better than Agent Coulson telling on her.

In a moment of emotional weakness, she'd also asked the agent to stop by her old job, which
was always open long into the night. Her boss, Marshall, deserved to be notified that she
wouldn't be able to work there anymore.

Perhaps, if she ever found some free time once the situation settled down, Brooklyn would go
back to Central Grounds and explain things to him herself.

He was the first person Brook had dared to relax around, not enough for him to know about
her past, but just as someone to talk to and be around without her guard up. It was a shame
she'd have to leave her cozy job, but she knew he'd understand. Marshall had likely already
freaked out to his new stay feline when he saw her photograph on TV, but he would've kept
his mouth shut.

Not long after Agent Coulson had left to get rid of the last traces of her old life, more agents
had filtered into the small office space where another trusted agent named Maria Hill, who
apparently also worked under Stark Industries, had set out to prepare and secure an apartment
for Brook to move into per Tony's and Pepper's request. Hence this bedroom being more of a
temporary scenario.

When asked about furniture or food preferences, Brook had been too exhausted to explain she
had barely scavenged enough used furniture to live with over the years to know or care for
brands or colors. So she just told the woman to do as he wished and left to take a hot shower
to chase away the cold seeping through her wet clothes.

Even after all that, Brooklyn had still been expected to watch the freak show on TV. But she
agreed that it would be useful to know what the public was aware of to keep their cover story
straight.

So far into the questioning, she hadn't been too pleased.

Not only had her previous life been torn down to shreds by agents, but her future in front of
cameras had been all but guaranteed.

It was a Black Widow's worst nightmare...

Seemingly happy with the promise of seeing more of Brook in the future, that particular
question from the news anchor was put to rest at least. Her fate of being paraded around as a
celebrity all but guaranteed.
Other questions were more considerate after that, wishing the 'Stark Family' well wishes.
That phrase was said many times for the following two hours the interview lasted. Even now
deep into the night as Brook flipped through channels in the comfort of her room, she still
couldn't help but frown.

How was she supposed to get used to that? Being addressed as Stark's daughter, or even
calling him father?

At that exact moment, SHIELD agents were likely working overtime making new IDs for
Brook under her new and 'rightful' last name. Some other agent was probably making
preparations for her school transfer as well.

At least that last part was not so bad, Brook tried to convince herself.

Brooklyn despised the thought of going back to Adelphi Academy where people had ignored
her since she'd joined at the age of twelve. No one ever cared much about the quiet girl who
ignored everyone and everything.

Now that Brook thought about it, that demeanor might have to change as well. Just as Stark
had been forced to give that sentimental speech, Brook would now have to carry the burden
of holding her last name in public. People would pay attention now, and she couldn't afford to
create rumors that would cause issues for everyone.

Before retiring to her room after the speech, when Stark had all but been forced by Pepper to
show Brook her room at the compound, the man had been adamant about her getting an
education, and since she didn't want to be at the Avengers compound all day, the girl had
agreed switching schools wouldn't be a problem.

That had been the only bit of conversation they'd had on the walk to this desolate room, and
even that had been too long to go without a single insult thrown his way. But she'd been
exhausted and he seemed to be as well. So a compromise had been met.

Turning off the TV at last, Brooklyn's head crashed onto the pillows rather harshly as she
came to the conclusion that she'd make sure she established a decent reputation in school this
time.

Friendships…she still wasn't sure of, not that anyone would truly want to be her friend
anyways.

As for grades, that shouldn't be too difficult, right? Her Red Room education had been
thorough, and nothing she had come across at Adelphi High had been a challenge. Plus, the
fear of failure in any task still remained a constant in her brain, pushing her to get the highest
marks on everything, motivation still embedded into her soul.

Technically, Brook understood she wouldn't be punished for a missed question or a bad
grade, but some need to keep herself out of unnecessary pain persisted.

Maybe that would be of some use at last.

Having high marks would show how capable she was without Stark’s guiding hand. If she
managed to get into a good university all on her own, pass whatever tests SHIELD threw her
way until she became an agent, she would indisputably be the best. Not because she was a
Stark, but because she was herself.

Stark would see just how much she didn't need him.

Or at least that was the last thing she fell into restless sleep thinking about, unaware of just
how big of an impact he'd have on her everyday life from now on.
 Otets

Brooklyn POV-

Normally, Brook would spend her mornings in a lonely manner. Eating whatever leftovers
she'd been given at the diner the night before, while hoping the chipped legs of her table
wouldn't break apart.

She'd sometimes bother watching the news to fill the quiet space of her apartment. But living
in a world with aliens, mutants, and gods roaming around made for some stressful stories, so
she sometimes opted for the only other available channel at home on her cracked and ancient
TV screen.

National Geographic.

As the rays of the 6 am sun hit her home, Brook would watch different animals kill each
other as one might on a normal Tuesday in the Red Room. All the while, the girl would often
ponder what work might look like on that particular day, or what the cafeteria at school
would deem edible. If there was any assignment she hadn't finished the night before, she'd
either give up on it entirely or rush to complete it as she multitasked with her morning
routine.

Sometimes her uniform was decent, other times, the absence of an ironing machine or dryer
was evident along the many wrinkles across her skirt and vest. If her crappy alarm (that only
seemed to work two out of three mornings) managed to go off on time, her hair would get
special treatment. Otherwise, it was just brushed and left into a wavy mess that cascaded
down her back.

By the time she was usually out the battered door, Brooklyn would apply her red lipstick in a
hurry using the mirror of any given car in the parking lot to get a decent result.

Once music filled her ears, that's when the calm of the morning began.

This morning was very different from the norm.

For starters, the high-pitched ringing of Brook's alarm wasn’t what woke her, but a sweet
melody of flutes and artificial birds that startled her awake just as effectively. With the
kitchen knife now in hand, she'd bolted upright and scanned the unfamiliar surroundings,
ready to fight, until Brook realized she was in her room at the Avengers Compound.

The cream-colored drapes to her right opened all on their own, letting in the bright morning
rays. She almost fell back onto the ground trying to chase them away.

The female voice Brook could now confidently recognize as the A.I. FRIDAY, filled in
through the hidden speakers of her room.
"Good morning Miss Stark. Today's Sunday weather is 72 degrees Fahrenheit, 22 degrees
Celsius. There is no foreseeable rain today, and your schedule appears to be empty. Would
you like to hear today's news stories? There are currently 89 mentions of you on worldwide
television."

Oh, right…that.

Brooklyn didn't bother correcting the machine on her last name as she'd done with the Vision
yesterday before all this ruckus began. It was useless to do so now. Just as Pepper said
yesterday, this is how things were now and even if she fought it, the world would still only
know her under one name now. That name being Brooklyn Stark.

Unsure whether or not she had to press a button to reply, Brook opted for talking into the
room like she'd seen others do, "Um, no thanks. The less I know the better"

"I will change your morning preferences then. As a reminder, it is 8:32 in the morning, and
you are requested to attend breakfast at 9 am sharp. Your SHIELD attire is set to arrive at 2
pm today, but Ms. Maximoff is scheduled to drop off clothes to you after breakfast. Would you
like me to turn on a warm bath for you this morning?"

Brook eyed the door to her left, leading to a bathroom that she'd barely bothered to scan last
night. It was nothing enormous, but it had been interesting to note that like the communal
showers in the Avengers training area where she'd bathed yesterday, hers had plenty of warm
water too. It might seem silly to focus on such a simple thing, but Brooklyn did not know the
comforts of a warm bath throughout her life.

The Red Room hadn't been considerate enough to provide any, and back in her flat, Brooklyn
had been too poor to afford such a commodity. But basking in those warm waters could wait
a while, especially as her anger began to rise like the sun now filtering into her room.

"So Stark thinks he can just summon me for a meal like a dog?" Brook asked, more to herself
than the machine, yet it still felt the need to answer.

"It was not Mr. Stark that requested your attendance reminder. It was Captain Rogers"

That goodie-two-shoes...

Finally succeeding in getting up from the fluffy bed, Brook stretched under the rays of the
sun, half hoping they would chase away the shadows of her bad mood. But it was too late, the
memories of last night were deeply engraved into her mind. Everything about yesterday was
pissing her off, and it didn't help that she had an empty stomach after skipping dinner last
night.

Brooklyn's bare feet trotted along the artificially warmed wooden floors as she eyed the
perfectly painted gray walls for any signs of FRIDAY's origins. The girl sighed when all she
noticed were classical paintings and brown furnishings. Last night before bed, Brook
searched the space for secret cameras or microphones by instinct. She'd found nothing, but
then again, she'd yet to find FRIDAY's large net of communication devices.
When she finally explored the small bathroom that morning, the first thing Brook noted with
a laugh was her crazed red hair. Of course, bed hair would persist even in these insane times.

There hadn't been much in the bathroom, only a few wrapped-up commodities, but among
them were a few hair essentials like the lone comb burdened with making a difference. As
she tamed her hair back into place, Brook tried to stare deep into her own chocolate brown
eyes, trying to decipher just who she'd turned into overnight. Though there was no physical
change in her features, Brooklyn Jones was long gone.

The question now was, who would Brooklyn Stark become?

Fear wasn't something she felt very often, but said emotion had spiked many times in the last
few days to now be considered a familiar emotion…much to her annoyance.

These circumstances were not things Brook could kill her way through. This was politics,
exposure, and too many unknowns to feel comfortable.

Right now, all she could hope for was to get through the day, and maybe pray that school and
SHIELD training wouldn't get her incarcerated.

With FRIDAY's help, in the form of a lighted pathway across the carpeted hallways,
Brooklyn made her way towards the breakfast room where she’d been summoned, still clad
in those deep blue silk pajamas that were possibly worth more than everything Agent
Coulson had likely already gathered from her apartment last night.

The hallway she passed through had little metal labels on the side of each door, with neatly
printed names of the Avengers. Some of the doors had these small tracking chips that
resembled peepholes, which she'd failed to notice yesterday. Unsurprisingly, the ones who
had them were the doors belonging to the 'criminals' of the group, the same ones that bore
those tracking bracelets on their ankles.

Maybe one day, Brook would bother finding out the non-public version of the story behind
the scandalous Civil War. Rogers, like his public image dictated, seemed like too much of a
Boy Scout to do any evil deeds. Hell, he'd named Brook's mother Delanor of all things, and
made healthy-eating commercials in his free time. The only reason those were probably still
running on TV is that people refused to believe the Golden Retriever of the country could do
any wrong.

Brook wasn't blind to the tension though. They had tried to hide it when she first met them,
but there was some conflict pending between Rogers and...and her otets.

Otets, because calling him father in English seemed too accepting...

After winding past an endless hallway, Brook finally made it to a set of low wooden steps
leading towards a large kitchen much more spacious than the one by the living room she'd
been in yesterday. This open concept space was decorated with a dark-wooded themed
kitchen, its walls containing various frames of articles and art of the Avengers, as well as
some child-drawn pictures in messy crayons.
There was also music playing, some old 40s swing dance that filled the space with a domestic
feel, so at odds with what Brooklyn was expecting.

These were the heroes of the world, yet every day she spent in their company, that image of
powerful and upright beings larger than life crumbled bit by bit. Sure she'd seen them smiling
and goofing around on TV for stupid events like New York's Avengers Day and even some
Christmas specials. But even then, the Avengers had been on big and mighty floats that truly
did make them look like gods, or at least something above humanity.

Instead of a serious ambiance over an expansive 5-star meal from some fancy restaurant,
what Book first noticed were Rogers and Maximoff standing by the stove, casually mixing
ingredients and flipping pancakes as the embodiment of freedom swayed his finger to the tune
of the trumpets.

Beside them on the counter, breakfast fruits were being poorly cut by Scott Lang (who had
briefly introduced himself as Ant-man yesterday). He couldn't even keep the knife in the
proper position to cut neat slices, but he was humming along to the melody of the room he
clearly did not know.

On the other side of the space, closer to the open windows where clusters of birds could be
seen flying by, stood an unexpected sight. Instead of a Queen Anne table carved of pure
marble, stood a large farmhouse dining table piled with Avengers.

On the bench side of the table, was where most of the noise apart from the music was coming
from. The Colonel and Stark were having a loud conversation about which Led Zeppelin
song was better, all the while Stark kept an arm around Pepper Potts. They were the only two
people in the room already dressed for the day in business attire, but with gentle sleepy
smiles on their faces.

Though Brook was quite a distance away, she couldn't fail to notice the glimmering ring on
Pepper's hand. Something had happened between them last night then. It seemed that perhaps
those two were back together, enough so to want to tie the knot of marriage at some point
despite the previous quarrels.

How that made her feel, Brooklyn wasn't sure yet. It was far too early in the day to delve
deep into the canteen of emotions inside herself.

The only thing that mattered was that Pepper would be staying. A surprising relief.

On the other side of the table where chairs were in place, Brook couldn't see the faces of
Vision, Banner, Sam, or her sestra, only their backs. The first two appeared to be having
some quiet and peaceful conversation, while the other two were discussing something along
the lines of old military missions.

At least there was one good thing about all this, there was no sign of Spider-man this
morning. A small blessing at last.

The heroes in the room were all so busy with each other's company, absorbed in their usual
morning routine, that it was actually Barton who noticed her arrival first. He was in the
process of getting a sports drink from the fridge, complaining to Rogers about their morning
run and the unfairness behind it, when he turned to go to the table and saw Brooklyn steading
by the open archway.

Surprisingly, he waved her over as if they were old friends.

"Don't be shy little Stark. Hope you like pancakes 'cause Steve makes the best ones" he said
as a way of welcome. When Barton saw she refused to move (more like she couldn't get her
body to move), he actually walked over to her and gently guided her to the table with
interlocked arms.

Her first instinct was to twist and break said arm, but the way Barton stood, the way his eyes
locked on her with a chuckle...he knew what she was thinking. Not entirely unreasonable
considering he was also an assassin.

So she just let it be.

Brook's bare feet walked along the wooden floors beside the famous Hawkeye, making
enough noise that Rogers and Maximoff turned around at last. When they saw her, Brook was
expecting them to go back to their business, but they sent pleasant morning greetings her
way, Rogers even waved at her with his spatula as they walked by.

The teen wasn't sure what to answer at first, especially when this was anything but a good
morning. Brooklyn was stuck at a facility of heroes, forced to not only become one down the
line, but also be her father's daughter.

But since she was staying, it might be prudent to not make any enemies, especially with these
people...so she elected to reply.

"Morning" was the simple yet polite greeting Brook settled for as Barton guided her to the
table, which quieted down upon seeing who was approaching.

The first eyes Brook dared to meet were those of her sestra. Out of all the strangers at the
table, she was the one Brooklyn was most comfortable with at the moment. Natasha seemed
to know it too, because she gestured to the empty chair beside her, which Brook quickly
settled on.

"How did you sleep, Rosa?" Natasha asked, sending a nod Barton's way when he sat at the
head of the table.

"About as well as a bullfrog," Brook replied, relenting the little fact of her restless sleep, no
use in lying about it when she probably looked like the dead.

The ex-assassin smiled nonetheless, serving Brook some orange juice while Pepper spoke up
with a chipper greeting of her own.

"Good morning, Brooklyn. Coulson called this morning and said your apartment should be
ready this afternoon. You'll be able to move in tomorrow with no problems" Pepper said,
passing a basket full of croissants her way.
Brook took it with a nod. Even though she was still weary of the food, the teen placed one of
the warm pastries on the empty plate before her. That eye contact with Pepper, who was
sitting across from Brook, cost her.

Beside Pepper, Stark's eyes were already on her by the time Brook set the basket back at the
table. He didn't say anything at first, just looked towards the woman to his left for some
unspoken guidance. When the woman squeezed the hand belonging to Stark's arm resting
lazily around her shoulders, he finally looked up at Brook with a less than confident smile.

"Mornin' kid," he said, earning a pat on the back from his friend, the War Machine.

Brook too struggled to get out a pleasant greeting, knowing that if it wasn't satisfactory
enough for Pepper, she'd likely have to re-do it. That expectant Pepper stare was already
carving holes into her head.

That's also why everyone else was staring, likely trying to wage if Brook could be pleasant
enough for the world to believe their crafted story. See if they could trust the teen enough to
set her free into that apartment Pepper mentioned.

A test, this had to be a test.

Thing was, after being around all of them for so long, the ex-assassin was starting to grow
less bothered by them, and that was dangerous. She needed to leave this place, and for that,
Brook needed to show she could do her new job correctly.

Placing the white napkin cloth on her lap, Brook answered with a reluctant, "Good
morning…otets"

Her teeth had ground against each other as she said it, but thankfully it was enough for
Pepper to smile and go back to her food. Stark on the other hand seemed intrigued, and raised
a confused brow her way. When Brook refused to clarify her statement, instead taking a sip
of her juice, that's when her sestra cleared her throat.

"Otets means father in Russian" Natasha clarified after a mouthful of croissant, pushing back
strands of her own auburn hair which was a few shades brighter and redder than Brook’s
own.

Stark was baffled at first, but then nodded and sent a thumbs up her way.

"Better than sperm donor I suppose," he said, earning an elbow jab from Pepper.

Brooklyn had many other names she'd rather call him, but that's the only one that wouldn't
get her in trouble. Still, she kept her mouth shut and bit into that heavenly croissant.

Despite that being the first morning greeting for her birth father, they still eyed each other
wearily across the table. Some part of her was so overwhelmed by actually sitting at a full
table that she couldn't help but glare Stark's way to ease some of the discomforts of the
unknown.
It was temporarily paused when Sam whistled from his place seated beside Natasha
somewhere to Brook’s right.

"Wow, this tension hurts" Sam muttered sarcastically, "I get goosebumps from seeing you
two try and interact"

Just after the words had left his mouth, food came floating to the table, guided by the same
unsettling red magic belonging to Miss Maximoff. Magic Brook did her best to avoid by
shifting her hands under the table to avoid being near any stray wisp. If anyone noticed, no
one called her out on it.

The Captain came and sat at the empty head of the table beside Brook, setting down a few
plates of food as well without magic of his own, a relief. As soon as he was settled, the man
shook his head Sam's way.

"Don't say that Sam. This is new for both of them, and they need to figure this out day by
day"

Stark laughed, piling pancakes on plates for both himself and Pepper as he replied, "I've been
a parent for quite some time. I've got it down, Spangled Man!"

"Tony, it's been two days, maybe three if you squint hard enough" Rhodey corrected, eyeing
the fresh fruits.

The Iron Man didn't reply, only waved his fork Vision's way down the bench. The robot only
tilted his head in confusion, and from where Brook could see, Banner was already shaking
his head beside him.

"Vision is mine and Bruce's second son. Remember guys?" Stark said.

He was what!?

Brooklyn wasn't quite certain what to make of those words but when she leaned to see
Bruce's face, the doctor's head shaking, already turned her way with a sheepish expression.
Out of a lab coat and still clad in a worn shirt and sleep pants, he didn't seem intimidating in
the least, which was a relief.

Maybe the famed Hulk didn’t need to come out to eat after all.

"I'm not sure that qualifies, Mr. Stark," Vision said, shyly looking down at his empty plate.
Interestingly enough, when the large plate of pancakes was passed to the machine, he only
timidly served Wanda then passed it along.

Ok, so he WAS a machine. Good. Brook was almost starting to believe Stark's words for a
second, even when the implication of two males producing a baby naturally was a bit far-
fetched. He must mean it in a creation sort of sense.

Said man just shrugged, "Of course, you count, Vis. Both Bruce and I built you and Ultron,
down to every neuron. Besides, you've never batted an eye when I've called you son before!"
Vision shook his head, turning his gaze towards Banner for help. The doctor only dove into
his food, seemingly done with this conversation and the foolishness behind it.

"I just thought such jokes would be inappropriate to make in front of your biological
offspring," the machine said after receiving no help from the doctor, shooting an apologetic
smile Brook's way. A smile she ignored and did not reciprocate.

Great. Not only did Brooklyn have the greatest narcissist in the world as her otets, but she
also had a sibling now. A robotic sibling whom Brook had seen on TV phasing through a
giant human being like it was nothing.

Just looking at him made her uneasy. He was artificial intelligence. Who knew, if Vision got a
virus or something, it could probably kill everyone at this table…a valid concern.

Yet, just to annoy Stark, Brooklyn replied, "Then it's a good thing I have an older sibling,
maybe he can instruct me on how to survive your clearly superior parenting, Mr. Stark"

Brooklyn then proceeded to serve herself some food, just a few of the fluffy pancakes,
sprinkling them with honey and powdered sugar. Everyone was still staring at her in disbelief
as she bit into her breakfast, unaware she was holding back a moan at how good these were.

Ok, maybe her absolute distrust and possible hatred towards Mr. Rogers had just shifted over
slightly.

Despite working at a diner for quite a few years, Brook never bothered wasting her money on
pancakes, and at the end of the shift when batter was among the leftovers, she didn't have the
cookware to make any herself so she often left it alone.

Maybe Barton was right, these were likely the best pancakes in history. The best food in the
world...but Brook tried to keep her expression neutral, even as she had to fight her hand to
slow down eating.

"You still hate me," Stark said out of nowhere, pointing her way with his fork. She hadn't
realized he'd hang onto her words from earlier, much less bring them up in front of everyone
when this is the way things normally were. Passive aggressive insults thrown between
sentences.

Brook had to pry her mouth away from the food raised to her mouth, releasing her hold on
the cutlery just to take a few seconds to clap her hands slowly.

"Correct! You're a true genius, 50 points to Starkclaw!" she said, earning a muffled laugh
from her sestra and others around the table.

"I always saw him as more of a Slytherin," Sam added around a mouthful of grapes, "but it
would make sense that Tony would rather make his own house"

Pepper and Rogers didn't seem as amused though, didn't even bother eating as they crossed
their arms in disagreement at where this conversation was going. An inevitable fight Brook
had been trying to avoid, but just couldn't escape.
Even when the cheery swing music continued to play in the background, it did not fit the shift
in atmosphere in the room as both Starks stared each other down, something Brook was
slowly getting used to by now.

Of course, Brook still hated him, what a silly thing to ask. Did Stark think that a forced good
morning and some pancakes were going to erase the fact that she was now shackled to this
new life? If so, then maybe he wasn't as smart as the world claimed.

Unfortunately for Brooklyn, the Romanoff-Potts team managed to nudge the two away from
each other's gazes, even when Brook wanted to stare a burning hole through that thick skull
of his.

When Brooklyn looked around the table, all she got were concerned stares, but also
disappointed ones. Even as they reluctantly went back to their meals, the energy at the table
wasn't the same Brook had watched from the doorstep.

Brooklyn said she would try to be civil, but here she was, picking apart Stark's words for a
fight. Ruining everyone's happy breakfast.

Maybe Pepper was right, Brook was stubborn. She was mad at Stark for all the right reasons,
of course, she just didn't know what they were exactly.

Instead of trying to figure out her own mind or that of her otets, Brook defeatedly went back
to her pancakes, taking care to eat with proper manners she'd been taught since birth. Not that
others were as careful.

Just how many pancakes could Scott Lang fit into his mouth at a time? He had to be
dislodging his jaw at some point.

By the time Brook finished her meal, she realized the large table of food was surprisingly
gone. Normal people wouldn't have been able to finish all of that at once, but who knew how
much consumption of food these freaks need to function properly? An interesting thing to
keep in mind down the line.

"Sestra," Natasha whispered while leaning over towards Brook's ear, "how would you feel
about getting out of the compound for a few hours?"

How would she feel? It would likely be the greatest relief of her life!

"I'm down. What are we doing? Tracking down more of those alien weapon criminals?" she
asked, finishing up the sweet orange juice and wiping her mouth with elegant care.

It took a lot of effort not to bolt out of the table as it was.

A bit louder than before, Natasha said, "Well, you're starting at a new high school tomorrow.
You'll need new clothes, and sending agents out for them seems like a fashion disaster
waiting to happen"

Clothes? The great Natalia Alianovna Romanova wanted to go shopping?

Brook frowned, picking at the stitched ends of her silk shirt.

"You do realize I don't need new clothes right? That agent of yours is going to fetch my stuff"
she clarified.

Miss Maximoff stood from her chair and made it to the place between the widows' seats with
a smile on her face. A closeness Brooklyn did her best not to flinch from lest the woman use
it against her.

"What's wrong with having new clothes? Natasha took me shopping when I joined the
Avengers" she said with that now familiar hint of a fading Sokovian accent, "It's practically
tradition"

Tradition…that word had never meant anything good in Brooklyn’s life.

"You should go," Stark intervened, causing all heads, including her own, to snap towards
him. The man was calmly sipping his coffee as he added, "Girls like shopping right? Go nuts"

Go nuts? Go nuts!?

"I can't exactly 'go nuts' as you say. I only have a small amount of savings and I'm not
wasting them on clothes" Brook replied with a roll of her eyes. She’d never been the time to
even dream of riches or fashionable clothes. All she cared about was keeping a healthy body,
to be ready for any attack that may come her way.

That was the use money had in her life.

Her otets scoffed at her words, rolling his eyes as he took out a brown leather wallet from his
suit pocket. He flipped through a few slots, discarding credit and debit cards on the table until
he finally came across a black-tinted one.

With a satisfied 'aha!', he threw it across the table and into her hand, which reflexively
reached out for the object hurtling towards her.

"Spend as much as you like, even buy Nat something nice for all the wonderful things she's
done for us lately," Stark said, earning a surprisingly playful middle finger from her sestra.

Brooklyn hesitated to throw the card back as she replied rather harshly, "I don't need your
charity, Stark"

She didn't need his money, his help, or even his presence. Brooklyn had gotten by all on her
own, and now this man thought he could just throw money her way after some speech?

Stark ran a hand through his brown hair with a little too much force to look painless. He
stared her down, but surprisingly his gaze softened ever so slightly at the challenge he likely
found in her own eyes. Their eyes.

"It's not charity, dumbass" he replied, "Consider it an allowance. Parents give their kids
money all the time, it's normal"
An allowance? She'd never received one before, unless a sappy check from her adopted
family in New Orleans counted. But that was not because she was their daughter, because she
wasn't. It was to keep her away from being a burden while still profiting off her sorry
existence.

Pepper chimed into the silence, "I think it's a great idea to go shopping! We'll have to ask
Fury for permission, but with a few of us he shouldn't bat an eye"

A few of them. What was this? A field trip?

"The Manhattan Mall should be good enough" Pepper added, already moving her fingers
rapidly across her phone's screen.

"Um, just who exactly is going?" Brook asked, eyeing everyone at the table wearily.

Natasha let out a small laugh, subtly pointing at the tracker on her leg below the table, "Some
of us aren't allowed out without an escort, so you should take Tony and Pepper since they
don't need one"

Both she and Stark stood up, slamming their hands on the table and screaming, "What!?"

Natasha just sipped her coffee casually, then gestured towards the small TV propped on the
wall even when it was currently turned off and added, "It will be good for the public to see
you out and about together doing normal family things, Rosa"

Family things. What did that even mean!?

Brooklyn was all but ready to rush towards her room and locking herself in it, but as if
sensing said instinct, Natasha kept a hand on her arm with enough of a grip that she got the
message. This wasn’t up for debate, but a necessity. With a sigh, the teen settled back down
on her chair, already dreading the outing, even if others weren't.

"One of you better bring me back one of those mall pretzels," Sam said, "Oh, and maybe
some faster shoes so I can beat Steve during our morning runs. Preferably some that have
giant rocket propulsors"

Steve's face had turned a visible shade of red at the playful jab.

"I don't think that would be enough to beat our Captain" Natasha added, smirking Steve's
way.

"You know what Romanoff...." Steve warned, but the blush remained, and there was a hint of
casual teasing. As if they did it often enough.

It was with little thought that the girl remembered Rogers and Maximoff were her next-door
neighbors in the living quarters here at the compound, and Steve seemed to be an early bird,
which explained the morning run she’d heard more than one person complain about.

She despised morning people. Luckily, Brook would only be forced to stay here during the
weekends, otherwise, the embodiment of America itself might get on her nerves real quick,
even if her sestra tolerated him.

Tony sighed, fixing his suit as he motioned down the table, "Anyone else want anything?
Something actually realistic I can purchase?"

Surprisingly, the Avengers began shouting their propositions, not just for themselves but also
for their peers, a distraction Brooklyn used to pull Natasha wordlessly towards the kitchen.
Something important needed to be asked, and Brook had been too much of a coward to do it
sooner. The teen knew she should have asked as soon as she saw Natasha that first day, and
after recent events, this was more important than ever.

If Brook was going to attempt to start a new life, she needed to have all her facts straight at
least.

The Avenger didn't ask questions, she just leaned on the kitchen counter and looked her in the
eye, waiting for Brook to speak first. A good thing too, because it took a few tries to get the
actual question out.

"Sestra," Brooklyn whispered, leaning next to the woman on the counter, "I know you want
me to go out there and play my role well, but I can’t do that unless…I guess what I’m asking
is…did you ever kill Ivan?"

There was no need to specify who that was. At one point in life, Ivan had been their whole
world, their lives devotion. They were Frankenstein's monsters, and after the raid at the Red
Room base all those years ago...Brook had never known what became of Dr. Frankenstein
himself.

She hadn’t asked on the flight to America, nor as she’d arrived at the orphanage with a shiny
new identity. But she pondered on it at times of distress.

Brook was still prepared for an impromptu appearance from her old master, kept a bag of
supplies at the ready in case the Red Room found her. She trained in secret to keep her skills
up, even did her best to keep a low profile by choosing one of the poorest neighborhoods in
Brooklyn to live in despite her generous paychecks.

But after all this time, with this being the first public appearance as Stark’s daughter, the girl
needed a definite answer to silence that particular fear.

It didn't help that the widow before her looked unnerved, yet still looked Brooklyn in the eye
when she confessed, "No. I've been looking for him for the past twelve years, the closest I
ever got to finding him was actually when I first met you"

Chyort voz'mi. Hell.

Brooklyn had loved Captain America's pancakes, but right now, even they didn't want to be
anywhere near her with the news of Ivan's possible threat becoming all the more real. She
likely would have thrown up on the impeccable floors of this expensive kitchen, but the fear
she felt...
It overpowered everything.

"I had hoped you'd killed him by now, or that he'd be rotting in a prison somewhere" Brook
whispered, her hands mindlessly reaching over to her back, where the array of scars from
years of punishments remained.

"You know what this means, right?" the teen added, staring Natasha in the eye without a care
to conceal the fear in her soul for once, "Once he hears what I've become if he hasn't by now,
he'll kill me. Ivan will send his best widows and they will all murder me before you guys
even realize he's in the country. Or worse...he'll take me back and fix me"

Brooklyn didn't care that she felt her body tremble, or that her breathing escaped her at an
alarming rate. Like air was being pulled out of her lungs but never going back in properly.

Ivan was alive, and Brooklyn was now a public figure that he could easily track down.

Natasha remained calm as she replied, "He hasn't tried to kill me, and I betrayed him many
years before you"

Was she seriously trying to use that as a reassurance?

"Everyone thought you went missing or that you were dead until that day you destroyed the
main base! Now, he's likely not stupid enough to go after you. You're a beloved hero all over
the world, even the Russian government wouldn't be daft enough to destroy you!"

Brooklyn pushed off the counter, sneaking a glance at the table full of people still arguing
over nothing of importance. Nothing of importance compared to Ivan. The man who in his
younger years had become a strong enough assassin to challenge the world of crime for
power, earning enough victories to be considered one of the most feared beings amongst a
world of terrifying beings that had death singing in their blood.

With a sigh, Brook added, "If he lived…he's likely been rebuilding his forces, has probably
done so for the past nine years. We've become the very things we were meant to kill and
fight, Natalia! No matter what my blood or your blood says, we are Ivan's girls. His
daughters, and possessions…AND we have failed and betrayed him. You must remember
what the punishment is for that"

Natasha didn't flinch at the mention of her real name, but the slight widening of the woman's
eyes confirmed Brook's suspicions. Natasha DID remember that the punishment of treachery
invoked the most painful of deaths, one that could make one last days between life and death.

Brooklyn had only ever witnessed one traitor to the Red Room being punished when she was
around five years old. Ivan liked to use the traitors as examples, and for the days after the
horrible torture was finished and barely anything remained of the body...no one would dare
step out of line, and those killed during training sighed in relief at their incoming death.

That blood always flowed the most, and its color remained embedded into Brook's mind the
longest.
The teen couldn't take the raw fear any longer, she concealed her body beside Natasha, a
blind spot the people at the table wouldn't be able to see. She took deep breaths this time,
concentrating on the waves of her free-flowing hair, or the bits of batter clumped around the
sink. Anything to keep the panic away.

"After hearing I'm alive, that I've become a Stark..."

Natasha intervened, "Rosa, he won't do it. Ivan knows its too risky"

"He also always taught us to expect the unexpected. He's a patient man, sestra, and one day
he'll kill us both" Brook countered, pushing away the images of the man in question. Those
cold deadly eyes that still haunted her dreams from time to time.

Natasha looked back at the table over her shoulder, no doubt noticing the smiles and laughs
from her peers.

"Listen to me, Rosa" the Avenger whispered, leaning closer to add, "We got our lives back,
and we now have a different path to follow. I have things I want to protect and I'm sure one
day you will too. So we must become stronger, not just for ourselves, but to make up for all
the lives we've taken. The innocent ones at least"

Become stronger. SHIELD would make her stronger? Doubtful.

Yet, Brook still dared to ask, "Chto, yesli Ivan pridet?"

What if Ivan comes?

Natasha smiled at last, "Then we'll remind him why we were his prized daughters. We'll show
him everything we've learned since. Plus, we have a room full of people who would fight him
on behalf of both of us"

Brooklyn really wanted to believe that she'd be safe, that Ivan could not touch her. Perhaps,
for now, she'd be safe under the shadow of the Avengers. Maybe the introduction of aliens,
gods, and nonsense had changed Ivan's priorities and now the survival of all humanity was
more important. A foolish and hopeful thought.

Ivan was not a forgiving man. Even if Ivan didn't kill Brook, there would still be a price to
pay for the fall of the Red Room base she'd once called home. A fall she’d had something to
do with in the end.

That might even happen sooner than expected.

"Let's just say Ivan doesn't give a shit about us anymore, that he couldn't care less what we do
with our lives" Brook whispered back, even when she knew that was very unlikely, "This
weapons business seems like something the Red Room would be interested in. What if he
doesn't come to us, but we go to him trying to stop this?"

Natasha looked back towards the table, following her gaze, Brook noted that Stark's attention
was now on them at last. He looked puzzled by their secrecy, but didn't approach. Her sestra
made a show of handing Brook a water bottle as she whispered back.
"Zatem my ostanavlivayem yego do togo, kak on smozhet sdelat' to zhe samoye s nami"
Natasha replied, then made her way back to the table where she mentioned Brook was going
to go get changed.

The girl did just that, moving to leave the room as Natasha's words remained in her mind...

Then we stop him before he has a chance to do the same to us.

As she made it to the door of her new room devoid of poverty and the broken things she was
so used to, Brooklyn realized the song playing on loop down in the dining room as Steve
Rogers washed the dishes was right on one thing.

It had been a very long time. And the more time that passed, the less patience a man like Ivan
would have...

What Brooklyn didn't know yet was that her caution was not misplaced at all.

The night before, both enemies and allies had tuned in to the press conference with motives of
their own. Some saw nothing more than a secret of a celebrity revealed, while others
considered this more of an opportunity for their own agendas.

And somewhere in the unknown, a man with gray eyes stared at the monitor before him
intently as photos of a familiar young girl became visible all over the place.

She'd grown these past few years, and he also noted that some semblance of the past still
remained.

He didn't see gossip or opportunity like many others around the world. Instead, the man
smirked as he left his office to oversee the training room where target practice was going on.
For a while, all he could think about was the little spider in another country, one whom he…
missed dearly. One who could still become what she was supposed to be since birth.

All she would need was...a little push.

The Manhattan mall was a massive place, spanning an area of nine street blocks in the busiest
part of town. A side of New York she’d never gotten to explore.

Brook tried her best not to let it intimidate her, even as she spotted clusters of crowds walking
into the space she’d soon venture into herself.

The mall itself was not supposed to be too busy at this time, a small mercy at least. The issue
was that as soon as Happy pulled up at the entrance and the valet took the car away, eyes had
immediately gone to Pepper and Tony, both hand in hand, dressed for business. Neither of
them seemed bothered by the flashing of phone cameras from the civilians. They smiled and
waved as if this were a common occurrence, and Stark even signed a few t-shirts and
shopping mall bags before going inside.
Yeah, they weren't having any issues with behavior they were surely used to as public figures
both beloved and cherished by the public...the person who was struggling was Brook.

As soon as people recognized her, saw her standing next to her father, the cameras turned her
way. The lights were blinding, and the requests for photos were overwhelming. The fact that
people paid attention to Brook and even recognized her was already paralyzing enough,
especially when all her life was supposed to be lived in invisibility.

It was a sensory overload that threatened to break her carefully practiced calm.

Luckily, Happy surprisingly came to her aid by pushing a few people away gently, and Stark
even mentioned something about his daughter being camera shy to quell the curious crowds.

Had she truly been camera shy, Fury wouldn't have so much footage to use against her...

Brook did her best to flash a few smiles but wasn’t able to do much more than that with her
senses on guard, ready to attack. Thankfully, the couple ushered her inside, and Brooklyn was
still too stunned by the cameras to suggest going back to the compound instead.

If she’d said so, they might’ve thought her a coward. After all, what person couldn't handle a
single trip to the mall? Pushing down her embarrassment and anger, Brooklyn used the few
steps to the doors to steel her nerves again, convincing herself that a simple outing would not
be the end of her.

Inside, the place looked even bigger than its outdoor structure, if that was even possible.
Floors upon floors full of large entrances to various stores lit up by neon lights, reminding
Brook of her old job at the retro diner she could no longer hope to be employed at.

Clusters of mostly younger individuals around her age walked from store to store with bright
smiles, some even sang along to the pop music being blasted around the large space without a
care in the world.

The sight was so foreign, it actually took a few seconds to take it all in.

So this was what a mall looked like...

As soon as Pepper guided them through some preferred stores for 'young women', the crowds
lessened, but the store workers seemed to make up for it with their enthusiastic welcomes and
eager help as soon as they realized who was amongst them. Not their usual customers, but a
hero and…and his family.

Brooklyn had never been to such elegant stores, much less a mall full of them to stroll as
calmly as the youths her age. Thankfully, Pepper took the leading role, suggesting articles of
clothing that might look nice, but ultimately told Brook this was her choice. If she wanted to
dress in nothing more than onesies for the rest of her life, Pepper said she wouldn't object.
After being told what to wear by adults for seven years, her words had actually stunned
Brook for a few seconds.
She’d expected this change into Brooklyn Stark to continue to be nothing more than the loss
of the freedom she’d begun to explore these past few years. But there it was…the ability to
choose was still her own.

The teen tried not to let it show, how much it meant to her, and proceeded to go from store to
store trying out a few clothes she liked as well as some Pepper suggested for future 'special
events', like dresses and heels.

After the first store, Brook had purchased a few shirts, still being mindful of the price despite
Stark's assurance that she could spend all his fortune if she wished. Words she tried not to
think about, that she’d only processed as him doing so to keep appearances.

Then there was another store...and the next...until Brook wondered why someone would need
so many clothes after owning only a cluster of old clothes for years.

By the time they made it to a place called Hollister, Happy and Stark began to stop waiting
on the sidelines. Likely out of boredom, or because Brooklyn was more at ease, used to this
odd rhythm called shopping. Every now and then, the men would come by with some
suggestions they found interesting. At first, it was merely as a joke, bringing in feathered
jackets or bright neon hats.

After a few sharp looks from Pepper though, the men quit their teasing.

A few decent shirts were suggested, and Brook felt like murdering the manufacturer of said
clothes when Stark brought something she actually liked. Oh, how she'd wanted to wipe that
satisfied smirk off his face whenever Brook bought something Stark suggested.

It made Pepper happy, so the odd behavior didn't stop.

Between stores, little kids were the only ones who dared approach the Iron Man, asking for
photos and autographs with little mind towards the rest of the group. Since Brook wasn't
bothered, she'd been free to watch Stark interact with the kids, watching as he told them
jokes, complimented their clothes, and ruffled their hair.

Would he have been like that with Brooklyn if they had met when she was a toddler? It was
with a surprising pang of sadness that the assassin realized she'd never know.

When they made it to the third floor of the building, Brook looked over the clear railing,
realizing that the masses of people at the mall had increased exponentially while she’d been
distracted. The lot of them looking around like lost puppies for something.

That something likely being Brook and her unlikely entourage.

"If you just smile and wave, it becomes less scary," Pepper said beside her, shooting her a
red-lipped smile.

Brooklyn shrugged, pushing away from the edge. But she didn’t walk off, the teen tried not to
let her skin blush as she waited for Pepper to join her side. Admitting how much she was
relying on the woman, it might get rid of her remaining pride…though the ex-CEO didn’t
seem to mind, if anything she smiled at the action as they made their way.

"I'm not scared of them," Brook mumbled, motioning to the crowds down below.

In truth, she was weary of what they would say about her, alarmed by the large crowds that
could make her visible. But that wasn't something any of those with her could understand.
They were used to the spotlight, she was the oddity here.

Happy and Stark, who were walking behind them, were both clutching around ten shopping
bags each without complaint. It was the designated bodyguard that shouted, "You shouldn't
be scared, kid. I'm here to protect you all"

"I feel so reassured" Brooklyn muttered towards Happy, earning a laugh from Pepper, who
finally seemed to find another destination.

The woman pointed at a store far too flashy in comparison to the ones around it. Bright pink,
huge, and apparently containing a secret from a woman named Victoria. As soon as the men
caught sight of the place, Happy quickly turned away, saying he'd meet them outside by the
food court. Stark quickly offered to go with him, leaving with the promise of buying them
some pizza for when they finished.

Soon Brooklyn realized why they’d left so hurriedly.

It was not a store containing espionage secrets, but an undergarment store. A

rather....inappropriate one at that.

How was Brook supposed to purchase such private things with a stranger by her side?

The girl considered fleeing, but one look from Pepper had magically kept her in place. After
an hour of browsing through a store that felt the need to have every color of underwear
available, Brook had settled for the most decent pairs of undergarments she'd found. She'd
walked out with a pink bag in hand, clutching its strap angrily, mostly out of embarrassment
while Pepper clutched her own as if it was nothing.

Thanks to that little outing, Brook avoided eye contact with every passerby until the pair
made it to a large area full of tables surrounded by various food stores.

They'd found Happy and Tony at the food court, laughing to each other while people at
nearby tables gawked while keeping a respectable distance. As soon as the pair took the
empty seats at the red table, Pepper gave Tony a quick kiss and happily served herself some
of the promised pizza, still warm and filled with pepperoni and cheese.

"What else is left on the list, Peps?" Tony asked around a mouthful of food, smiling brightly
at the promise of spending time with the woman he likely hadn’t seen much of when they
were fighting.

The woman smiled with equal earnestness, "It's up to Brook. Do you need something else,
sweetheart? Maybe some makeup?"
Sweetheart? How was Brook supposed to answer that? She'd never been called anything out
of fondness, it almost made the girl forget the question.

Meanwhile, Happy dumped a slice of pizza on a cardboard plate, took Brook's obnoxiously
pink bag, and quickly set it next to others with as minimal contact as possible as if it could
burn him, then placed the plate before her. Brook eyed the food, still pondering if poisoning
was a possible motive from Happy, the man that hadn’t trusted her since their first meeting.

He’d yet to make it known how he felt about her being Stark’s daughter after all. But she was
too hungry to refuse the offering of food, and gladly bit into the greasy goodness.

After properly cleaning her mouth and setting her mind back on track, the girl replied
towards Pepper, "Everything we've purchased is more than enough. No need to trouble
yourself"

It was her otets that intervened this time, setting his phone down to look her in the eye, even
bothering to put down his shades.

"Well…girls like makeup, right? Just buy it" he said.

Just BUY it?

Pepper quickly intervened, "What Tony is trying to say is that you can buy whatever makes
you happy, Brooklyn. We can just make a quick stop at Sephora before going home. It works
out too since Wanda wanted some new mascara"

Looking down at her outfit, Brook was reminded of the Scarlet Witch.

Despite lending Brooklyn a similar goth-like outfit as the other day, the mutant didn't NEED
to do it. Wanda had provided Brook with clothes out of something akin to kindness.
Therefore, something was owed to the girl who could not leave the compound, in this case, a
mascara.

So Brook nodded, willing to risk extra time in the public eye to repay that debt. She'd go in,
get the mascara, and maybe buy a new red lipstick to replace the barely alive one back in her
apartment.

Then that debt to Wanda would be paid, and with her purchased clothes, Brooklyn wouldn't
owe the mutant anything ever again.

For the next few minutes after her mind had been made up, Brooklyn ate her pizza slice,
drank her soda, and tried to smile when phones were pointed her way. She ignored the shouts
of support Stark got, and even managed to have a decent conversation with Pepper about her
prior school before it turned unpleasant.

"So, any love in your past? Any boyfriends we should know about?" Pepper asked with a
wide grin, earning a groan from the man seated between Brook and her.

"That I don't want to know!" Stark said, "I hope you didn't inherit my constant dating around,
kid. I saw the teenage boys eyeing you since we got here, don't think I didn't!"
What boys?

As if she'd ever be a playboy like him.

With that in mind, Brook calmly replied "Love is for children"

The table went silent for a heartbeat.

"Wow, Nat used to say that all the time. Is that some sort of toddler brainwashing from the
Red Room?" Stark asked, earning a shove from the woman beside him, "What? She
practically called us children, I'm just saying! Besides, Nat had a thing with Bruce two years
ago, clearly love being for children isn't a valid statement"

The Black Widow had fallen for the Hulk? The one person in the building Brook was
absolutely weary of. How was that even possible?

"Are they together? Banner and my sestra?" Brook asked, setting aside her empty plate.

Pepper shook her head, ponytail swinging around like a cluster of silk, "After the incident
with Ultron, which you must have heard about, Bruce left for a while. Disappeared for
months, even Nat had no clue where he was"

Happy cleared his throat, adding, "It was incredibly awkward when he came back a few
months ago"

"They never told us how they came to that conclusion, but the heart eyes and longing looks
stopped. They seem ok now, Bruce is focusing on his research and Nat is...well, being Nat"
Stark added, "but I always wondered if there is something going on with her and Capsicle.
They seem awfully chummy don't they?"

That’s when Pepper stood up and argued, "We have no right to gossip about that, Nat will kill
you if she finds out you're getting in her business, and then I'll have to plan an extravagant
funeral. Let's just stay out of it"

"She is constantly trying to find him a date, tell me it's not weird!" Tony insisted, only
stopping after Pepper gave him that look that always made him and Brook comply.

Maybe Pepper WAS one of those rumored mutants, and that was her power. It could be the
only explanation as to why a stubborn male and a trained ex-assassin were so compliant
around her. At least that was the silly theory on Brook's mind as she stood as well.

Happy took it upon himself to throw away the trash and gather half the bags in hand, insisting
once again to Brooklyn that she didn't have to carry any. Either out of distrust…or chivalry.

When Tony saw his friend had left him the Victoria's Secret bags, he rightfully flipped him
off. This so-called Victoria had some very unpleasant secrets, and thanks to her, a room full
of employees could now brag that they knew just what undergarments Brooklyn Stark wore.

Fantastic.
Once they had made it to the store fully dedicated to makeup, Brooklyn couldn't help but
stare at the place in disbelief. How was there this much makeup in one place?

Back in her neighborhood, Brook would often just pick out a red lipstick from any available
drug store, but this was a different world entirely. Made one wonder how many products
could one person possibly hope to put on their face.

When they searched for a decent mascara for Wanda, they'd found at least forty available
options to choose from.

While Stark and Happy played with the samples, drawing on their faces like toddlers with
eyebrow pencils and lipsticks, Brook tasked herself with finding her lipstick while Pepper
asked an eager worker which mascara worked best.

Before she'd left for another aisle, Brook heard the worker say, "Young teenage girls love that
emo look right? Your child will likely want a really dark mascara then"

That was it. This was the last time she borrowed clothes from Miss Maximoff.

They totally did not suit her...

Thankfully, they eventually walked out the store with some new makeup for Pepper, a
mascara for Wanda, a few Avengers-themed face masks Stark instead the team should try out,
and one of the hundred or so available lipsticks Brook had browsed through.

Some of those in her entourage came out looking like clowns, and it seemed Stark was really
holding a grudge over carrying the pink bag because he made Happy look like the crazed
clown from Gotham's streets. Even with an elongated red smile, Happy looked anything but.

The sight had threatened to make her smile, but only for a few foolish seconds.

Surprisingly, they had made it to the car in the underground parking lot without any more
civilian interventions thanks to a new drink becoming available at Starbucks (which this mall
had a lot of).

The bags had all miraculously fit in the trunk of the black Audi, and everyone had gone back
to the compound in relative peace.

Putting on that red lipstick on the ride back had brought back some semblance of who she
was. It made Brooklyn feel guarded again, even if it was just for a while.

Conversation had flowed smoothly for the short ride back to the compound. Brooklyn had
mostly kept quiet, but actually made the effort to express her thanks for the new clothes once
they arrived back. She didn’t miss the way the adults smiled at her reluctant words, nor did
she miss the way Stark seemed to relax at the words. As if he’d passed a test.

Her clothes were supposed to be taken to her new home, so when they arrived, Brook only
had the mascara for Wanda in hand and her lipstick, while the others had a bag full of things
Tony and Happy had picked up along the way for the rest of the Avengers.
Brook had found Wanda in the living room, sitting next to Vision as they watched an old
rom-com on TV without a care in the world. The rest of the Avengers were crowded around
the pool table nearby, busy watching a match between the Captain and the Falcon.

Perfect then.

Wordlessly, Brook had handed over the small Sephora bag to Wanda with a simple nod of
thanks, then quickly made way back to her room as soon as the other Avengers began staring
at her in disbelief. Even the Vision had blinked a few times at the kind action.

Thankfully, the excuse of turning in early for the night because school tomorrow spared her
any interventions or need for explanations. Maybe she should’ve insisted Pepper be the one
to hand over the bag, but then the debt wouldn't have been paid without a shadow of a doubt.

Before heading out of the room, Brook considered thanking the people who accompanied her
further, something better than nodding when asked if she was happy with her purchases.
Unable to do more than that, she'd shot the three adults another silent nod and left, clutching
her new lipstick as she disappeared into the dimness of the hallways.

Secretly, she could admit to herself that today hadn't been the worst outing of her life, even if
every news headline had ended up with her face on it. Well, her, Stark, Pepper…together,
labeled as one group.

The Stark Family.

 Midtown High School

Brooklyn POV-

The black Audi parked outside the school gates of Midtown High School slowly. Not slowly
enough for Brooklyn to gather her wits or to chase away the feeling of discomfort that had
hounded her all morning.

From the tinted window beside her, Brook could barely see anything aside from a cluster of
trees and passing students along the streets. It shouldn't be as intimidating as if felt. This was
just High School after all, a place filled with a bunch of teens who were of no danger or
consequence at all. Most of them likely couldn't even touch their toes, let alone kill a trained
assassin such as herself.

So why was it that she felt a sense of dread?

From the driver's seat, Happy turned around and faced her with a closed-lip smile, pulling
down his dark shades.

"First day of school. I would say knock 'em dead, but with your background, I'm afraid you
just might" he joked.

Brook unfastened her seatbelt with a glare, eyeing the brand-new backpack laying on the
empty seat beside her. Pepper had bought it for her, insisting it needed to be strong enough to
withstand all her non-existent books.

The teen would never admit it, but even her adoptive parents had never gifted her such a
thing, a tool for school. Maybe that's why Brooklyn had taken the bag without a single
complaint, why even now it felt like a comfort.

Aside from the reassurance from that backpack full of pencils and notebooks also provided
by Ms. Potts, Brook had no clue what else to do.

The next reasonable step was to walk out onto the street, but she just couldn't move.

She'd woken up at the compound early, dressed in the least flashy clothes she bought the day
prior as a survival method for the first day (Brook had wisely declined any clothes from
Wanda, opting to have Vision bring some from the truck currently tasked with taking her
clothes to her apartment instead).

She'd taken up FRIDAY's offer to have breakfast in her room. It had been nice to spend the
morning alone to calm her nerves...until she'd snuck to the front of the building to leave.

The Avengers, curse them, had lined up by the entrance to the Avengers building and wished
her a good first day in front of all the passing employees. The dramatics were too much in her
opinion, as if they thought she'd be going to war and this was their last chance at a farewell.
It had made her laugh a little bit, not that she let them see. But it mostly annoyed her.

Brooklyn had hoped that was the end of that, but her otets had hesitantly pulled her aside
when Happy arrived with the car. Brook had expected a lecture, or maybe a warning to
behave for both their sakes and that of their little act. Instead, he awkwardly patted her on the
shoulder and gave her a crumpled piece of paper with an address, and a shiny new
smartphone.

"That's your new home, Fury said everything was set up yesterday and your clothes are being
dropped off today. If something isn't to your liking, please bother Fury about it. Maybe he'll
sprout some gray hairs on that bald head of his" he said, then motioned to the black phone,
"That has all our numbers on it... I'm not saying you'll need it, but 1 on speed dial is for
emergencies, remember that"

Brook didn't even know how to turn the thing on. The best phone she'd had was a hand-me-
down flip phone from her adoptive parents. But luckily she'd have a three-hour car ride to
figure out how to work the thing. Not that she expected to need it for emergencies anyways.
She could deal with those herself.

The teen had just nodded, clutching the strap of her backpack tightly, then patting one of its
pockets, "You know I have that SHIELD pager right? I could have just used that for an
emergency"

"Yes, but I didn't make it, so I don't trust that scrap of metal to work" he added, waiting until
she reluctantly stuffed the new device into the pocket of her jacket.

Seeming to remember something else, Stark pulled out other objects from his left suit pocket.
A watch and a handful of cash.

"Right. Kids need lunch money," the man said with a roll of his eyes, tucking the twenty
dollar bill into one of her backpack's outer pockets when she didn't stretch out a hand.
Brooklyn was too busy staring at the red watch with curiosity to shove the bills back in his
face.

Did he seriously think she couldn't tell time? Was Stark concerned she would be careless and
be late to class?

Without a word, Stark reached for her left wrist, gently pulling up the sleeve of her gray
jacket to fasten the metal watch in place.

Brook wasn't quick enough, too busy analyzing the thing to realize what he'd see. When Tony
caught sight of the faded marks around her wrist, his movements paused. Before he could get
a better look at the cuff marks of her youth, Brook took the watch into her own hands and
fastened it over the scars.

"You couldn't even get it to tell time? Nice" she asked in an attempt to divert his attention
while eyeing the black screen on her wrist, "Or is this a tracker from Fury?"
Stark didn't answer right away. He just stared down at her, a look she couldn't decipher on his
face, but then snapped out of his trance with a frown.

"It's not a watch. You can speak to FRIDAY through this if you need help. Don't use it to
cheat on exams though, it's just for emergencies"

As if she'd ever stoop so low.

"What do I do? Ask What's the sitch?" she questioned, eyeing the small black screen on her
wrist with renowned curiosity. Eyeing it did nothing to turn the device on.

Stark finally let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as he tapped the screen twice. Part of
the metal lifted like a handle, and Stark effortlessly pulled it outwards. The red piece
expanded, wrapping around Brook's hand like a glove. At the palm of her hand, a glowing
blue circle appeared, one that made her hand feel a little warm.

"This is like one of the blasters on my suits. It does have limited blaster rounds, but it has
some badass flashing lights and a few sound stunners to help out in a fight" he said, tapping
the center of the glove again.

Brooklyn beheld as the glove retracted back into an unsuspecting watch at the action.

"Just how many dangers are you expecting?" she asked sarcastically, wiggling her red-
painted nails, testing her appendages for any damage from the glove. She found none.

Her otets shrugged, waving at the passing trainees as they went about their morning runs.
Brook spared them a glance, frowning when she noticed their wide eyes were already staring
at her.

They sent bright smiles her way, encouraging thumbs up too. Brook debated rushing over to
them to…well she wasn’t sure what she would do. But all this attention was making her
nervous, and though she’d already had her first taste of what being a Stark entailed back at
the mall yesterday, she supposed today was bound to be infinitely worse.

She’d have to restrain the instinct to attack whatever paid attention to her. Or at least figure
out a way to stifle it in the few hours it would take to arrive at school.

Stark eyed the watch on her wrist with satisfaction and said, "You can never be too careful,
Brooklyn. Besides I won't see you till tomorrow when you come in for training, it's best to
know I left you with some safety measures"

Brook hesitantly nodded, noting the silent and hopeful looks from the Avengers a few steps
away. Analyzing her, this private conversation.

Stark put a hand on her shoulder, which Brooklyn actually fought from flinching away from.
Pepper was watching after all, the trainees were too. As of a few days ago, she’d become a
Stark officially, and flinching from a father’s touch in public would be a big mistake on her
part.
"Happy will pick you up tomorrow. He said he'd be at the front gates of your apartment
complex by 4 pm sharp. That should give you enough time to get home from school, and if
you're not there I'm almost certain he'll kill us all so..." Stark said, making a neck-slicing
motion with his finger.

At least she'd get to walk to this new home today, and enjoy the place to herself.

"Got it. I should go then before Happy combusts the back of my head with his anger" she
interrupted, sneaking a look at Happy, who was leaning impatiently against his car. Three
hours stuck in a car with him would be so much fun...

Just as she began to walk away, Pepper stepped forward and made her way over to them.
Without warning, she pulled Brook into a loose hug. The assassin had no clue what to do at
the unusual contact, so she just stood like a stiff statue until the woman deigned to pull back.

"Try to have fun at least," Pepper said, looping her arm around Stark's, "You'll be looked after
in Queens, don't worry"

Right...Queens. The known domain of the Spider-man. Brook wasn't sure if she wanted to ask
whether or not the spiderling was set on babysitting duty. The last thing she needed was a
superhero swinging by the school to check up on her.

Instead of voicing her complaints, Brooklyn merely inclined her head in understanding and
speed walked to the car. The other Avengers waved her way, some wiping fake tears from
their eyes. Only Bruce and Vision had the decency to act normal. Like adults.

Once in the safety of the bulletproof car, Brook spared a look out the window towards her
sestra. The woman, somehow sensing her stare despite the tinted glass, tapped a finger
against her temple. Be smart, she seemed to say.

Brooklyn understood. Whether that meant academically or decision-wise, she could handle
both.

Or so she had thought.

Now, three hours later, still frozen inside the car, Brooklyn wasn't sure what to do. Had she
used her mind, she would have asked for a map of the school and instructions towards the
main office ahead of time. Something useful at least. Brook had never ventured to Queens
and now all she had was the school before her and an address in her pocket.

Happy, seemingly finished with his kindness, waved at her to get out of the car, saying he had
business to get to and something about never imagining he'd be dropping off Tony's kid on
her first day of school.

Not that she needed any kindness from him to begin with.

Despite her own annoyance, Brook got out rather slowly, pulling the jacket close to her body
to guard her chest against the cold breeze that swept in, even when that wasn't the thing
bothering her.
As soon as she closed the car door, the front passenger side window rolled down. Happy
leaned as close as he could and said "Tony wants you to send him a text when you're home
safe. You better do it, otherwise, I have to deal with a room full of panicked Avengers''

Receiving commands from Happy was starting to become one of her least favorite things in
this world, especially when he seemed to be enjoying this moment far too much for her
liking.

Putting his black shades back up, Happy turned the mellow Downton Abbey soundtrack back
on, the one Brook had been subjected to for three miserable hours. Then, without another
word, he quickly pulled back into traffic and drove away as fast as it would allow with a
maniacal laugh. For a few seconds, Brook just stood on the edge of the sidewalk, ignoring the
passing students and their conversations as she frowned at the disappearing car. And though
she'd always been alone, dealt with new situations depending on no one but herself, Brooklyn
frowned at the absence of Happy's presence, almost as if she'd longed for him to walk her
indoors.

It was a ridiculous notion, if he'd offered, she would've told him to leave her alone.

It made her ponder how life had come to this most unforeseen moment, strolling around an
unfamiliar city under a different name? She could think of a handful of bad decisions that had
led her to this unfortunate moment actually...none of them improved her sour mood though.

Resigned to her fate, Brook pulled the hoodie of her jacket up to obscure her face better and
set a slow pace down the damp walkway. With each step, she noticed other teens were getting
dropped off along the street, some were walking in clusters around her, gossiping about the
latest school drama. People foolish enough to trust others, bargain with bonds of friendship.
All Brook could do was follow them since she had no clue where to go, which did nothing to
lessen her ridiculous nerves.

Once the front gates of the school came into view, the cluster of students magnified.

Right away, Brook noticed many differences from her old school as she stood before it.

For starters, no one bothered with a uniform, letting their personalities out in the open with
their preferred fashion styles. These students also seemed more relaxed, in the sense that they
weren't flaunting their riches at each other 24/7. They were chipper and eager to walk inside
the halls of learning, some even pushing past her still form.

The school itself was not what Brook had expected either.

Her old school had looked more like a small museum decked with finery, menacing guarding
gargoyle statues, and French gardens to appeal to its refined tastes. Midtown High School
was much bigger in comparison, with a large football field in the front of the school currently
occupied by kids in green letterman jackets throwing a football around despite the traffic of
passing students.

They all seemed so at ease...

Brook did her best to avoid eye contact with anyone as she crossed the field, staring up at the
large brick building that looked like a dirtier version of Capitol Hill. Her new prison, for lack
of a better term.

The teen observed silently as students screamed freely at the foot of the building, while
others drove to their parking spots with waves at all their passing friends. Even in the early
hours of the morning, the place was packed with life.

Gazing far into the forest line on both flaking sides of the school, Brook could see no trace of
the Spider-man. That was a small relief, one she hoped meant that maybe Stark hadn't even
asked him to keep an eye on her after all. Another small relief was that so far no one had
noticed her, and Brook was able to make it inside the building with little hassle, just narrowly
avoiding shoves from a few students eagerly showing off small fighter robots to each other.

Brook had expected the calm and well-mannered school interior of her old school, instead,
she soon found out that the inside of this place wasn't any calmer than the outside.

The building was filled with colorful posters on the walls, lockers along every visible
hallway, and teachers in suits walking by with friendly smiles to students they knew, some
even receiving some quiz complaints with a laugh. The place was packed, and to her horror,
none of the visible rooms in her vicinity were labeled as the main office.

Without her old MP3 player, Brook resigned herself to the loud noises as she weaved through
the crowds of lively cheerleaders and kids who almost made her trip with their small robot
prototypes on land and in the air. Other obstacles included teens carrying small project boards
on things like environmental solutions, quantum mechanics, and even some people running
around the halls with lab coats on their backs as if they were imitating the famed Superman.

Brooklyn recalled the small bit of information she'd been given during a late and forced
dinner last night. A meal Captain America had dragged her to after she’d already planned to
go to bed. It was for her benefit, sestra had said, fifteen minutes of the Avengers trying to
wage how she felt about moving to a new environment.

While others spoke of the beauties of Queens, sestra had mentioned offhandedly (perhaps on
purpose to ease her unseen nerves) that this was a school focused on Technology and the
Sciences. It certainly showed.

It had been a small hope that perhaps this school WOULD be a challenge, after all, it
certainly was right now since she couldn't find the damn office. Giving up on herself,
Brooklyn hesitated as she went up to a quiet girl leaning against the nearby beige lockers
with a book in hand.

The first thing Brooklyn noticed about her was the lively brown curls and a caramel
complexion that complemented them perfectly. She noted the loose and worn clothing, then
the forgotten Pop Tart by her side. Forgotten due to said book.

The reason why Brook approached this girl in particular wasn't just because she was alone, it
was also because her eyes looked utterly uninterested in anything that wasn't the pages before
her. Maybe such disinterest would be handy if the new worldwide celebrity Brooklyn Stark
suddenly approached the poor girl.

The mall outing from yesterday had taught Brook enough about how people reacted to her.
Just because her dad was famous, that automatically made her a person of interest in people's
eyes. It would be a long while before Brook forgot how people had freaked out over her at
the mall, especially since later on when she watched the news of her outing in the safety of
her room, the fear of being recognized had only solidified further.

All that jazz was something the ex-assassin didn't need right now.

Now that she was no longer invisible, Brooklyn needed someone who wouldn't shout her new
identity for the school to hear ahead of time. Thankfully, this girl seemed fit for the job.

With a small tap against the girl's shoulder, her attention was slowly drawn to Brook.

"Excuse me, would you happen to know where the school’s administrative office is?" Brook
asked sweetly, mentally cursing when a kid's backpack collided with her and made her
stumble slightly.

The stranger’s eyes went wide for mere seconds before that bored expression returned. She
pointed at the right hall with her book. Of Human Bondage. Interesting choice for a casual
read.

With a deep voice that fit her nonchalant personality, the girl said, "You go down this hallway
to the right. There is a space full of windows, that's the main office"

Brook sighed in relief, quickly glancing at her watch to see how much time she had left until
classes began, then remembered the damn thing Stark had given her couldn't actually tell
time.

"I appreciate the help" Brook said, not waiting for an answer as she weaved through the
ocean of crowds again.

Some kids DID look her way as she passed, but the hoodie was working wonders in making
her seem rather uninteresting. Stark had never mentioned to the press which school Brooklyn
would transfer to, or when. A calculated move Brook had only caught when she'd gone to bed
last night, one she was slightly grateful for right now.

Realizing this time before classes was likely her last breath of fresh air before the masses
knew where she was, the girl did a better job to hide her features, especially as the passing
gossip she could hear revolved around Brooklyn Stark herself.

As soon as that first class started, wherever that was, it would all be over.

Thankfully, the stranger’s instructions were correct, a sign above her head indicated this place
was the main office after all. Once she stepped inside, whatever remnant of Brooklyn Jones
would disappear forever…yet despite wanting to bolt out of the building, the girl steeled her
nerves.
Walking into the space, Brook was first confronted by a delicate old lady behind the main
desk. Her hair was already brimming with gray and white locks, and the dark blue glasses she
wore were far too big for her face. Still, the woman greeted all the staff by name, and was
somehow already chipper at this time of day.

When Brook neared her workspace, the woman looked up with an automatic smile.

"What can I do for you, dear?"

Brook quickly browsed through her backpack for the ID and altered birth certificate her
sestra had dropped off after the impromptu meal the night before. Clutching the still
impeccable documents, the girl eyed the last name Stark on them, fighting a frown as she
turned back to the woman.

"I'm a new student here," Brook admitted, handing over the documentation that branded her
as a member of the famed Stark family.

Some teacher passed by the front desks then, looking at Brook with a frown. "Hoodie down
kid, you know the school rules"

Actually, she didn't. Bastard.

That instinct to kill returned again so swiftly she almost tasted it, but Brook pushed the
thought down the same way she did her hoodie to avoid problems. At the same time, both
teacher and receptionist seemed to notice who she was, likely having seen photos of her from
the news that had unfortunately not died down yet.

She'd heard enough gossip about herself from the passing students to be surprised at this
point.

"Miss Stark, what a pleasure to meet you! I was told we'd have a new student today, but I
wasn't aware it would be YOU" the receptionist said enthusiastically, shaking Brook's still
hand atop the desk.

This was it, the beginning of her interactions as Brooklyn Stark.

There was no going back now.

The old woman began typing away quickly on the keyboard before her, while the teacher
who'd scolded Brook quickly vanished into a room inside the office confines. Likely to report
her findings.

"It must be weird starting school a little late into the year. But don't worry honey, there are
many students and staff who will help you get settled" the receptionist assured, handing over
a set of freshly printed papers to her.

Locker number, combination, and schedule.

"You did pretty well at your old school, better than good actually, so I put you into some
advanced classes. If they become too difficult, come to me and we can change them" the
woman said, tapping a manicured nail on the schedule paper.

Now that would be unlikely.

To her surprise, Brook's schedule was much different from that of her old school. The
electives offered here were not high-class essentials like Introduction to Classical
Instruments, or Etiquette 101.

What the hell was Brook supposed to do in a Spanish class? Brook already spoke the
language fluently. She also had Physical Education marked down. What a joke, as if an ex-
assassin would need such a thing...

"Your first class of the day is down the hall. Honors Literature shouldn't be too hard, Mrs.
Pettel is a good teacher" the woman said, then proceeded to hail someone in the office to go
fetch Brook's books from the library.

Still focused on the paper, Brook frowned at the schedule. Sure, it wouldn't be a great
challenge, but she'd be at school from 7 am to 2:45 pm. After school would consume her time
with finishing up homework, then she'd have her SHIELD training at 7 pm till 9 if she was
lucky.

Zdorovo. Great.

This would be a season of all-nighters.

Aside from the Honors Literature class she'd been given, there were other high-level courses
such as Chemistry, History of the United States, Basic Engineering, and some high-level
Calculus she was already dreading, but didn't show.

When the skinny office aide returned with her stack of books, Brook was instructed to leave
them in her locker until their respective classes. She was also given a temporary P.E. uniform
consisting of yellow shorts and a navy blue shirt with the school logo. Probably the most
school spirit Brook would ever show.

If that wasn't enough to carry, she was also given a slip for all her teachers to sign. Meaning
she couldn't integrate herself into classes undetected, introductions would be inevitable.

Brook immediately regretted refusing any help from the eager office aides as she made it
back out into the halls where people thankfully couldn't catch a glimpse of her face due to the
many books she carried. Probably the only good thing out of this dilemma.

By the time Brook miraculously found her locker, having to count down the halls as she
passed, her arms were already exhausted. Opening the locker itself was an unexpected
challenge, taking a few tries. It didn't help that her old school never had these infernal metal
coffins. When the thing finally clicked open, Brook almost sobbed with relief, setting
everything inside neatly, but keeping her English book out.

Looking around her, she noted how students appeared to decorate their own lockers with
photos and mementos. Personalized spaces that granted a glimpse into an individual’s life.
Brook's was a blank slate, and she couldn't think of a single thing to put inside it to make it
come live. It didn't help that the teen didn't even know what she owned at the moment, since
no one had bothered to explain what had been retrieved from her old apartment.

Slamming the door closed, Brook set her backpack and book down on the glossy floor,
leaning against the locker that now ‘belonged’ to her, eyeing the map behind her schedule to
try and sort out her route for the day.

That's when the loud cheers started.

A few feet away from her, a group of guys were jumping around and clapping each other, the
one in the middle more so than the others. He was nothing of potential danger, just a skinny
kid who seemed to favor collared shirts more suited for adults. Brook caught sight of his
expression brightening as he looked towards two kids standing by their lockers, busy in
conversation. Just as she was about to dismiss these occurrences, the chipper guy went over
to the lockers and slammed the skinnier of the two unsuspecting strangers against them.

The sound resonated across the hall, but very few people seemed to care once they beheld the
source.

The guy with golden brown skin laughed as he pinned the pale boy. The poor guy looked too
gentle and sweet to fight back, with big brown doe eyes and loose clothing that could easily
label him as a textbook nerd.

Is that what this was? The cliché popular guy beats up the nerd? It seemed like it.

"Penis Parker! What a lovely day, isn't it?" the 'popular' guy asked sarcastically, the nickname
sending a few people into small chuckles across the hall as they passed.

"Leave me alone Flash," the meek boy replied, only causing 'Flash' to pull on his sweater
harder. The nerd's friend stood off to the side in horror, and even with his larger frame, he
seemed just as helpless as the poor boy.

"You know, I still haven't gotten you back for that answer you got right during class last
week. You knew that was my question. Wanna settle that right now?" Flash asked, shoving
this so-called Penis Parker against the lockers once again with a loud bang that echoed
across the hall.

Brook shouldn't mind such nonsense. What she SHOULD do is start walking to class.

But again, that odd feeling came back to her senses, the same one that had spurred her into
action years ago during the battle of New York. Something about seeing an innocent and
helpless idiot being attacked still didn't sit well.

If it were an adult, Brook would have likely walked off, but it was the younger people,
especially the ones with those innocent eyes like the sestras from her childhood that unsettled
her nerves. The assassin had left many adults to get robbed or killed on the streets of her old
city without a care in the world for their fates...but this meek boy looked so helpless.
Brook couldn't seem to look away.

Maybe it was spending so much time around the Avengers that was changing her normal
thought process to mind her own business. Only a weekend together and Brook was starting
to get that hero complex....great.

The poor guy looked so exhausted from this treatment, and Brook could only imagine how
long it would go on since no one bothered to intervene. A lifetime of pain and inflicted shame
for the rest of his years here. None of the students stopped the violent behavior, if anything,
they just stood and watched with small smiles on their faces.

She’d been around powerful people for a large chunk of her life to recognize weakness, and
the victim of Flash’s actions was just that. Weakness that would never be able to fight back,
someone Ivan would’ve considered an insect easily squashed and overlooked. By opposite
ideology, that kid was the exact type of people SHIELD and the Avengers would want and
expect her to protect in this new lifepath of hers.

The two conflicting thoughts almost gave her a headache.

This was not what she should be doing at all, yet Brooklyn found herself walking over to
them, throwing her schedule down where her backpack rested on the floor last minute in case
she needed both hands for a fight. With her hood still down, some people DID gawk as she
walked by, Brook could feel their stares digging into the back of her head. But all she could
focus on was getting to the boy, even as she heard her new name being whispered amongst
the masses.

Even though she was still a few steps away from the boys, the nerd suddenly turned her way,
eyes wide as if the hands slamming him onto the lockers didn't matter anymore. Like he
didn’t feel the pain that came with each impact. When Flash noticed the teen's attention
elsewhere he too turned around, surprised to see someone dared to approach.

Flash's whole face beamed as he shoved the kid face-first into the locker, then made a show
of combing his dark hair in place. Those dark eyes never left her own.

"If it isn’t my lucky day! I had no idea Stark's daughter would be coming to our school!” he
said with far too much bravado for her liking, then added with a sultry voice, “My name is
Flash…and you have the most beautiful face I've ever seen"

After his introduction, Flash extended a hand, which Brook gladly ignored as she finally
approached them. She may be a murderer, but a bully of the defenseless and innocent she was
not, for that he was already a fowl being in her eyes.

Already annoyed by the attention Flash had attracted towards her, the girl tried to remember
her promise to Natasha, to be smart and use her head. So instead of breaking a few bones,
Brooklyn straightened her back, pushed the auburn hair away from her face, and angrily
stared up at the guy.

"Why are you messing with that guy?" she asked casually, noting the way Penis Parker's face
was starting to change color slightly right under his eye. The place his face had made contact
with the lockers, but an ache he still hadn’t registered by the looks of it.

Either because he was used to it, or he was as stunned by her presence as his immobile friend
and the rest of the students around them.

"Oh, that !" Flash shrugged, "He's just some punk who thinks he's better than everyone.
Consider this a bit of good advice for your first day, you're better off being friends with me.
There are a lot of private benefits that come with that"

That sweet flirty little tone was gonna get this Flash kid killed.

"You're not my type, sorry" Brook stated, inspecting her flawless nails as she pretended to
ponder things like she was actually giving him a choice on this next matter, "But if you ever
bother that boy again, you and I may have a problem. If you employ violent methods on
anyone else here, the same applies"

The hall went quiet of all stray conversations, and distant engine sounds from the robots
flying about died completely. Even the locker doors went eerily silent, not a single intake of
air could be heard.

Flash's friends that lingered on the outskirts of the masses didn't look all too pleased with her
response, setting their backpacks down as if they'd really dare get in a fight with her.
Brooklyn fought the urge to smile at their pathetic show of superiority.

Her attention was turned back to Flash when he replied, "You think that because you are a
Stark you're better than us, that you can come and play hero like daddy? Why is it that
everyone who has a CEO as a dad thinks they suddenly rule the school? My family has
money too, sweetheart"

Of course, this all came back to her new last name, to the massive legacy that name carried.

What a foolish boy, triggering the assassin with the one thing I find bothersome, she thought.

Flash, seemingly unaware of this fact, turned back to the poor boy leaning against the lockers
on the floor, one whose attention was still solely on Brooklyn despite the nasty bruise under
his eye or the glare Flash was throwing his way. Like he was frozen in panic.

Down on the floor, the boy with the big brown doe eyes looked even more defenseless, yet
Brooks was surprised to see fear was not the only thing hidden behind those orbs. There was
something akin to worry behind them, that and a trace of defiance.

No wonder he wasn’t flinching at the pain, he was likely used to getting a daily beating,
refusing to stay down. Foolish.

"You think you're so high and mighty with a Stark defending you? Huh, Parker?" Flash
asked, getting ready to throw a punch at the Parker guy as if the assassin's threat meant
nothing. Being dismissed like that was not something Brooklyn would tolerate, so she
damned the consequences and quickly rushed forward.
Brook made quick work of catching Flash's wrist and pulling him away from Parker. In one
swift movement, mostly consisting of using the guy's weight against him, the girl slammed
Flash into the set of lockers on the other side of the hallway. People scattered away as soon as
his body made loud contact with the lockers, oooh's and ahhh's filled the space all around her
along with a few screams of surprise.

Not that Brooklyn cared, her eyes were on the groupies staring at their fallen leader.

When Flash's friends took a few steps inside the circle of surrounding students, some of them
reached out to the teen on the floor (who was whining like a child about a small cut from the
lockers), while others went towards her. Even with their sports builds, Brooklyn wanted
nothing more than to laugh at them. How strong they must think themselves to be as they
shook their shoulders and sent confident smiles her way...it made Brook smile as she dodged
hesitant punch after punch, easily weaving through the cluster of letterman jackets.

It was like a dance. Make a quick turn, duck, moving so that they would run into each other.
All the while she did that, the ex-assassin couldn't help but shoot a glance toward the
innocent victim of the day, who was already gazing her way with unrestrained concern.

Poor thing. He had no clue how lucky he was that those boys had messed with the wrong
person, a foolish move that would earn him his freedom.

As the altercation continued, Brook quickly realized that if she threw punches of her own,
she wouldn't be able to stop herself from killing them. So she dodged their advances,
deciding that was her best solution.

The humiliation would have to do.

Some of the guys tripped over their companion's feet, while others outright punched their
colleagues by accident. In no time, the five boys were scattered on the floor, only having
themselves to blame.

None of the students spoke for a while, until they all broke out into cheers and laughter, just
as Brook had predicted. Teenagers were an odd sort, they were like ants who followed the
strongest leader regardless of morals. She might've laughed along with everyone to further
the boys' humiliation, but then the crowd parted.

A teacher with a cliché pencil skirt outfit walked over to them, heels resonating loudly
against the polished floors.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!? You should all be getting ready for cla..." the woman
paused her yelling when she beheld the boys scattered on the floor, whining, and Flash
clutching his left cheek as if it had been clawed off. Then the teacher turned to the only
person standing in the middle of the chaos.

Brooklyn was stared down by the blonde woman until Brook could pinpoint the exact
moment the teacher recognized her. Not as someone involved in a school altercation, but by
her worldwide reputation. Word around the office traveled fast then.
"Miss Stark, what happened here?" the teacher asked, giving her a 'no funny business' look.
There was hesitation in those words though, as if she was afraid of mistaking the situation.
Likely fearing any retribution from her otets.

One of the boys on the ground, the one with the dyed blue roots, spoke up angrily.

"She did this to us, all of us, and Flash too!"

Brook held up a hand, shaking her head with a smile that just wouldn't go away after such a
pathetic fight, "Actually ma'am, that's not true. I never threw a single punch at those boys,
nor was I the first to start this altercation"

The teacher looked down at the boy in question, "Is that true, Mr. Cordwell?"

The boy looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth as he stared between
the teacher and a calm Brooklyn not far from him.

Realizing she couldn't exactly walk away from this big mess, Brook sighed and admitted,
"These boys fell down by themselves, I didn't even touch them. Though I will admit to
touching Flash. He was attacking a fellow student, so I pushed him away. It's not my fault he
has the balance of a drunk man and hit himself against the lockers. My intentions were to
prevent that guy from receiving another hit" then motioned to the boy on the other side of the
hall.

Some students chucked at that, only stopping when Ms. Authority sent them a glare. The
woman then stared down at a still whining Flash, then at the Parker boy on the other side of
the lockers, still down with a bruised eye.

"I wasn't attacking Pen...Parker! I was just teasing him. This girl is out of her mind! She
attacked me!" Flash screamed, getting up from the floor and making his way next to the
teacher to show the small cut on his face like it was a death-inducing wound.

When the bell rang across the hall, the teacher examined her surroundings once more, and
with a sigh, she gestured for the athletes to get up. Facing the fifty or so students surrounding
them, the woman commanded, "Go to class, all of you! Mr. Thompson, and Mr. Parker, go to
the nurse's office. And Miss Stark, walk with me to the office"

Was she serious? Is this what the justice system had to offer when someone did the right
thing? Had she not been used to the world being an unfavorable place for her, Brooklyn
might’ve bothered to complain further.

Brook hadn't even been in this school for more than thirty minutes and she was already in
trouble. The teen had never gotten in any sort of trouble at school in her life, and now
because of that whining idiot Flash, she'd become the bad guy.

When she turned to look at him, Flash was already smiling triumphantly, happily gathering
his belongings and quitting the act of the hurt victim. His remaining friends walked off with
him as the crowd dispersed with loud whispers. If she wasn't expelled, Brooklyn would make
sure to deal with him later, show him what a true injury to cry wolf about truly looked like...
Resigned to her fate, Brook gathered her bag, book, and schedule from the floor, walking
towards the waiting teacher as the woman tapped her heel on the floor with a stern look in the
middle of the busy hall.

Before going to her, Brooklyn cursed herself mentally before making a last-minute detour
toward the fallen boy, who was being tended to by his friend. Seeing the Parker guy left on
the floor would not do. That image would stay in her brain as a failure to acquire vengeance
for him, so she silently and reluctantly offered him a hand.

Parker looked up at her, his bright brown eyes meeting hers in confusion.

"You didn't have to do that for me," he said softly, almost as if he was afraid she'd yell at him
or something equally as violent. The teen had the voice of a gentle creature, a smoothing
presence that kept her hand extended between them despite the fact she’d never offered
anyone such kindness.

Brook rolled her eyes, "I did have to, unfortunately"

The boy’s friend smiled from his place beside them, gathering both boys’ papers and books
from the floor as he exclaimed, "That was so cool! No one has ever stood up to Flash like
that. He'll take that memory to his grave, I'm sure of it"

With a sheepish smile, the nerd finally took her hand, his strong grip surprising Brook briefly.
She'd expected to have to carry him onto his feet. Now upright, it was Brook who had to look
up at the guy slightly. Quickly letting go of his hand, she nodded in satisfaction at his steady
feet before turning towards the waiting teacher. Towards punishment.

But that gentle voice made her halt...

"Hey wait, um.. thank you! I'm sorry you got in trouble for me" Parker said, accepting his
backpack from his friend and clutching a heavy stack of books to his chest without taking his
eyes off her.

Once again, Brook was being thanked. That odd feeling at that, and somehow, knowing this
kid was safe did ease her mind. Knowing perhaps Flash would leave him alone from now
on…she supposed her efforts might’ve not been a complete waste after all.

Even though she knew it shouldn't matter, that she shouldn't care, Brooklyn turned around to
ask, "Do you have a name? Or should I just assume Penis Parker is it?"

The boy shook his head in horror, pointing at himself when he replied, "I'm Parker, um Peter.
Peter Parker!"

Peter Parker then…

Was she really that scary? Maybe Brook should leave before the boy's heart stopped working
and the teacher a few paces away lost whatever patience the Stark last name granted her.

"I'm Brooklyn," she replied, gazing at the ground uncomfortably.

The two boys nodded, smiling her way completely unaware they were likely the last people
on this Earth that would behold such rare kindness from her. Such a foolish sentiment had
already ruined her day, yet she did not find herself regretting it too much. Likely because
she‘d gotten to fight someone.

"I think everyone knows that already," the unnamed friend said with a chuckle. The words
almost made her smile, because of course everyone would know who she was, and Brook
wasn't sure whether to cry or be angry about that.

Taking one last look at the guys, she frowned seeing their Star Wars shirts. She was reminded
of the hero of Queens who’d expressed his adoration for the films she’d known nothing
about. What was up with everyone loving those movies so much?

Maybe she should take up Spider-man's offer to watch them if it was such an important thing
for people her age. Of course, she'd have to deal with her awaiting punishment first.

With a tired sigh, Brook was displeased by the now obvious fact that some people were just
meant to be bad guys in every narrative. Exactly what she'd warned Fury about...
 Captain America Fitness Challenge

Brooklyn POV-

"I don't think this is fair" Brooklyn complained, sinking into her chair further as she faced
down the principal on the other side of the table, "Flash was bullying another student, for
once in my life I did the righteous thing and stood for the code of ethics I assume this school
has in effect"

The principal, a middle-aged man named Jim Morita, was shaking his head, threading his
fingers together for the third time since she'd been in this office. A nervous tick of his.

"Even if you didn't hit them, all the students saw the altercation, Miss Stark. If I don't give
you some sort of punishment, they will think that taking part in fights is an acceptable
practice" he explained.

What kind of half-assed logic was that?! It was her first day of class, and already she was
getting in trouble…AND was late to class as of four minutes ago!

This was unbelievable.

"Then what do you suggest my punishment should be, Mr. Morita?" Brooklyn inquired,
trying her best to sound respectful for the sake of appearances despite wanting nothing more
than to bash his head against the pristine oak wood table.

As someone who had to sit in Ivan's office as a child once upon a time, this wasn't the least
bit terrifying. So she focused on trying to placate the principal by going along with his
stupidity rather than calling him out on it. A tactic she hoped did her some good in the long
run.

The man sighed, rolling his chair over to a cabinet, sorting through the papers until he came
across what he was looking for.

Sliding the paper over to her, Brook read the bold title.

Midtown High School Academic Decathlon Team.

Sensing her confusion, the man of oriental descent smiled kindly at her for the first time since
their rushed meeting, "You will serve detention after school today, that is non-negotiable as
your punishment for Flash's injuries. That will keep you and me from trouble with his
parents"

Brook fought the urge to scoff but nodded obediently. Detention for a small scar...fine, she
could swallow that blow to her pride.

Pointing at the paper between them, the principal added sheepishly, "Since you are a very
public image, we need to take care of how this issue gets resolved, Miss Stark. So as a benefit
to both of us, I propose you join the Decathlon team. With your grades, you would be a very
favorable member of our esteemed team, plus you have some experience from your old
school already"

She did, but she’d joined the decathlon for the prize money granted to those who competed in
the academic competitions towards the end of term. A decision she was now starting to
regret.

"So what you're saying is that you won't give me a worse punishment that will make both of
us look bad in exchange for some 'community service' to help the school by joining this
team?"

The principal nodded, actually looking surprised she'd worked out his logic.

"Our decathlon team is currently the best in the country, I think you will find being among
them to be a rewarding experience. It's managed by Mr. Harrington and led by a great
student, Miss Jones. It also hosts its own newscast at school"

At first, Brooklyn was startled, assuming the Miss Jones he referred to was Brooklyn herself.
Then she remembered that she was no longer Brooklyn Jones, but only a Stark in this man's
eyes.

Well…at least she didn't have to lead any team.

But being forced to join a Decathlon Team again, even if it might do her favors for her public
image, it still felt like a trap.

Not only was Brooklyn being blackmailed into being an Avenger and SHIELD agent, but
now, this man was blackmailing her into joining a decathlon team! Did Brook have ANY
backbone left from her assassin training days!? She was trained to twist a person's words to
get information, had been taught how to appear pleasant to get what she wanted, yet she'd
done none of that lately.

This was such bullshit, and all of it could be attributed to her own carelessness.

What Brook should do is jump over the table and strangle the man with his hideous lime-
colored tie. But how much trouble would that cause? Not enough to be worth it, that was for
sure.

"When do I start?" the teen asked defeatedly.

The principal smiled, tapping the paper as a sign for her to keep the reminder of the
blackmail she’d just accepted.

"You'll begin next week, once you're properly settled. For now, I'll write you a pass for class,
and you'll serve your detention after school in room 32. It will only be for an hour, then
you're free to go" he said, signing off on a small piece of paper and handing it over.

He seemed happier than she felt, ecstatic even.

Having a Stark as a member representing your school...well played old man.

Biting back a string of curse words in every language she knew, Brook merely thanked the
principal for his time (for no good reason whatsoever other than to appear docile) and made
for the door.

At least no one had caught the specifics of this little debate since all the blinds to the room
were thankfully closed. Had they been open, the ladies of the office would have likely seen
her clenched teeth and twitching brow with clarity as she moved to exit the room.

"Oh! I almost forgot," the Principal called out behind her before she could reach the door
knob, "as regulation dictates, we had to call your dad to inform him of what happened today,
Miss Stark"

Brook paused mid-step, blood going cold.

"You what?" she whispered.

She didn't dare turn around, instead clutched her backpack straps harder to uselessly vent out
her anger. To stifle the panic coursing through her body.

"Mr. Stark was notified of what occurred today," the principal repeated.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Brook merely nodded, thanking the man regardless of her true feelings, and quickly walked
out of the office as fast as she could. She’d managed to fake a few kind nods towards the
ladies at the front desk, but once she found herself in the now empty hallway, Brooklyn dared
to let her mask fall into a displeased and deadly frown just as her phone began to ring.

Still not used to the darn thing Stark had given her this morning, Brook stumbled to get it
from her pocket, and almost dropped it when she saw the caller ID.

'No.1 Dad' Calling.

That insufferable man...

"Yes?" Brook answered, trying to keep her voice steady and calm, so unlike the true feelings
inside her heart urging her to burn this place to the ground.

The voice on the other end was serious and definitely belonged to her otets.

"I got an interesting call from your new principal, Daphne. Apparently, my daughter already
got into a fight on her first day of school. Anything to comment on that?"

Brook still felt like punching a wall, but settled for walking in the direction of her class
instead of the much more destructive path of finding Flash and breaking his nose. That would
most certainly earn her an expulsion. Getting detention before classes started was already a
shameful moment, she didn't need to get kicked out to further stain her new reputation.
It still didn’t make admitting to a mistake before Stark any easier.

The teen cleared her throat and replied as calmly as possible, "It was hardly worthy of being
classified as a fight. Those kids beat themselves up"

"Yeah, I hate it when that stuff happens…walking into fists. Question is, why did you do it?"
Stark's asked, voice a little louder than before despite the joke. Much more stern too, like
Pepper’s commanding tone.

Who did he think he was to yell at...oh right, he was her father.

"Some kid was messing with a defenseless nerd. I just stopped the fight and made sure future
ones would not occur" Brooklyn replied, frowning at the hallway ahead as she passed by
where said 'fight' had occurred.

Unfortunately, none of Flash's blood remained on the floor to quell her bloodlust.

"Wait, YOU stopped a fight? Really?" Stark asked, seemingly shocked. As shocked as she
was by the sound of it, which is probably why it didn’t offend her as much that he thought so
little of her.

"The guy was in my way, I had no choice but to stop the fight" Brook lied, knowing full well
Stark would take it as a sign that she was some sort of avenging angel like him if she
discussed the fact that she went out of her way to stop the fight. She'd just done it because she
was an idiot, simple as that.

Brooklyn had expected him to yell, to scold, perhaps even to decide her future as an Avenger
had been a mistake on his part. More than that, she’d expected punishment, as all failures in
her life had granted her.

But Stark's tone changed then…to his happier and teasing one.

"Did you get in trouble? How is everyone? Still alive I assume, or should I start calling the
lawyer?"

"Of course everyone is alive!" Brook yelled, then remembering where she was, she lowered
her voice and added, "That Flash kid faked an injury like a toddler. That Parker boy walked
away with a black eye that will heal eventually but nothing more serious than that. Flash's
buddies are just stunned and humiliated, they got off easy"

A pause.

"Parker boy?"

Brooklyn sighed, leaning against her locker dramatically as she banged her book a few times
on the metal in frustration, "That’s the kid that got beat up, the one Flash was attacking. He's
fine all things considered, Flash and his cronies were too busy dealing with me to care about
hurting him further"

Stark hummed.
The ex-assassin then added, "I got detention for stopping the fight if you must know, and now
I have to join their stupid Decathlon Team for a press boost. Still glad you switched me
here?"

Her otets did not answer at first, then laughed right in her ear.

"I once beat up a guy in middle school and got the punishment of a lifetime! You got off easy"
Stark said, "Then have fun in detention...I mean, learn your lesson well. And good job on
saving that kid! Pepper is very proud"

Pepper? She was there with him?

A shiver went down her spine at the worry that this failure had somehow upset the woman.
Why, Brook wasn’t sure. But to hear Pepper…that someone was proud of her for what she’d
done. It was a first for sure.

It felt like getting detention wasn’t the end of the world after all. Such unusual sentiments
softened her heart as much as it hardened it further. Brooklyn would not allow herself to care,
to rely on such praise from a woman who was technically nothing more than a stranger.

She couldn't allow herself that kind of trust and reliance.

Maybe that’s why it startled her further when a female voice resonated in her ear, "Don't
worry about any of it, Brook. Just pay attention in class, we'll see you tomorrow" Pepper
shouted, her voice distant as if she were on the other side of the room Stark found himself in.

"Are you not mad? Worried about the Stark reputation being tarnished by my mistake? I got
detention" Brooklyn muttered back angrily, some of her calm demeanor faltering at the
reminder of her failure.

Some kid picked the moment to exit the room near her locker, holding a big wooden hall pass
when he caught her gaze. After giving Brook an odd look, he rushed away with a bright
blush.

"Mad? No, not really. Enjoy the school day, but tone down on the killer attitude from now on.
No more fights." Stark said, then hung up with a laugh that Brooklyn had no idea what to do
with.

When the line cut off, Brooklyn banged her head on the locker behind her, and when her gaze
finally straightened, she finally noticed there was a poster on the wall she hadn't caught
earlier. A poster nearly hung on the wall across her very own locker.

This had to be some sort of joke, or the world loved making her miserable.

Before her was a poster, with IRON MAN pointing straight at her with glowing eyes. In poor
font, the thing read;

Get your act together.

Fighting the urge to rip the thing to shreds, Brooklyn put her phone away, and once she made
sure the hall was empty, hit her head against the lockers one last time.

Still confused by the phone call and the lack of punishment she’d received, Brook elected to
ignore it as she made her way to her first class of the day. No punishment from Stark or
SHIELD was a good thing after all, even if it was unexpected.

Now in front of the labeled door, Brooklyn was trying to recall the way most of her previous
literature classes had gone. English was never her favorite subject, and the prospect of
walking in late to a full class made her surprisingly uncomfortable. But Brooklyn was a
'fearless' assassin, so despite her hesitations, she confidently opened the room door where a
woman stood at the front of the class was reciting lines from a worn book in hand.

When the teacher heard the loud screeching of the door, she paused and smiled Brooklyn's
way.

"Oh, Miss Stark, I heard you would be joining us late. Come on in! We'll get you settled!" she
said sweetly, voice like honey and a spring breeze.

The woman took the piece of paper Brooklyn handed over and happily signed her new
student pass, murmuring something about Brook needing another book.

Meanwhile, the ex-assassin was staring right back at the thirty or so pairs of eyes gazing at
her unabashedly. All the students were gawking as if she'd grown an extra head, some even
daring to whisper amongst each other. Electing to ignore them, Brook looked around the
small room, noting the array of book quotes scattered around the walls on bright cardboard
paper.

There wasn't a single spot in this room that wasn't filled with color or small boards of an
array of beloved literary works. Her previous school had been rather meticulous about order
and elegant presentation, hence why she’d always referred to it as a museum. This place was
nothing of the sort, looked more like a children's schoolroom, far too lively to be taken
seriously as a place of learning.

The teacher's voice broke Brooklyn out of her wandering, handing over a small book with a
fading cover as she explained, "I'm Mrs. Pettel, welcome to the class dear! We've just started
The Great Gatsby, have you read it before?"

Brook nodded, thinking back to two years ago when her previous school deemed that story
necessary for her learning experience. Then a year ago when her boss at the diner wouldn't
shut up about it for two whole weeks.

"Great! You should have no trouble keeping up then" then, the short pregnant woman pointed
toward the last row in the middle of the room. All desks were made to accommodate two
students, but that last one only had a brunette sitting by herself.

"You can take a seat with Miss Bennett," the teacher added, clapping her hands in excitement.
Brooklyn did as she was told, and once she settled down while every student tracked her
movements, the teacher continued to read, filling the room with tales of lavish spectacles, and
elaborate parties held on weekends in 20s New York.

As soon as she settled down, the Bennett girl next to Brook tapped her shoulder, pointing a
finger to the page they were on when the assassin seemed lost as to what to do. Hesitantly,
Brooklyn nodded in thanks and began to read along as best she could, thoughts of her
detention later still clouding her mind.

Sometime during Nick's explanation of his fascination with Gatsby, the brunette girl tapped
her shoulder again. Curious as to what she might want, Brooklyn paused her 'reading' and
faced the tall girl.

"She was the worst reading voice ever, am I right? Every time she reads in class I feel like
passing out" Miss Bennet whispered.

Brook couldn't agree more, her eyelids were growing increasingly heavy despite her worry
about the end of the school day.

Being spoken to in this kind of environment had startled her awake though. It had been a long
time since someone her age had bothered speaking to Brooklyn unless it was for homework
answers or to order food at work. So at first, the assassin assumed such a conversation was
taking place merely because she was a Stark. But the girl looked genuinely bored, perhaps
basking in the chance of having a seat partner at last.

Her seatmate's gaze was kind, with no malice or bad intentions involved. She seemed like the
honest type too, those who preferred to be outspoken.

It was obvious that Brook didn't HAVE to respond, talking to this girl was not a required
school interaction. Like saving Parker hadn’t been a required interaction.

She'd also never bothered making friends with anyone before, but right now Brooklyn
considered her situation with caution she wouldn't have in the past. There was no way she
was getting out of this school any time soon, and people would hold her to the Stark name
everywhere she went. Loners didn't exactly have the best reputations, and in the Red Room,
she'd been taught that sometimes blending into a crowd was a good survival move. After her
altercation this morning saving the Parker kid, she'd need that reinforcement of people by her
side.

To try and make herself feel better, guarded against the idea of actually considering the bonds
of friendship, Brooklyn thought of it as having people to be her shield against the truth of her
past. People she could deceive and use easily to mask a being that despite her opinions
against Stark, wasn’t deserving of the last name she’d gained through birth.

So Brook forced back her discomforts and answered with as much veiled amusement as she
could, "Better than her being one of those teachers that make us read for them"

Bennett nodded furiously, playing with the pages of her book carelessly.
"Spoken like a true genius! My name is Tanya by the way" the girl said, pushing a stick of
gum across the table to Brooklyn like a peace offering. An olive branch.

She'd consider the probability of it being poisoned, yet still tucked it into one of the pockets
of her jacket for further testing later.

"Should I even bother introducing myself?" Brook whispered back with a sheepish smile, her
best attempt at seeming friendly.

Tanya laughed, loud enough that the teacher paused her reading and scanned her eyes across
the seated students for the culprit. Thankfully, Tanya was able to keep a straight face until the
woman gave up her search and continued her lesson.

"My mom wouldn't stop gushing about you when the news came out. Dad thought they were
fake until the interview your dad gave" Tanya whispered back.

Unfortunately for everyone, Brooklyn was very real.

Before Brook could formulate a proper response, Mrs. Pettel asked a question Brook had
missed completely, too immersed in the conversation with Tanya. Eyes on the new student, it
appeared as if her teacher was eager to question the knowledge bounds of the untested pupil
before her. Luckily someone at the front of the classroom raised her hand.

Because of her place in the far back of the classroom, it took Brook a minute to recognize her
as the curly-haired girl from the hallway, the one who'd given her proper directions to the
main office.

"Yes, Michelle?"

The girl answered with tired eyes and head slumped on her desk was confident yet equally as
bored as she’d been in the hallway earlier as she replied, "Gatsby was noticeably very
detached from his parties as if he were a spectator more than an active host"

The teacher beamed, promising some extra credit before sinking back into the story only this
so-called Michelle seemed truly interested in.

"Wow, she's so smart isn't she?" Tanya whispered, adoration laced into every word.

Brook quickly noted the way the girl's dark eyes seemed to shimmer like diamonds as she
stared Michelle's way. Though that section of emotions wasn't her area of expertise, Brook
spent enough time around Pepper and her otets' dreamy gazes to know what it meant.

It was that forbidden and unattainable emotion for those of her kind, those who guarded their
hearts with as much vigor as their physical skills could protect their physical bodies.

"You have feelings for her? Michelle, I mean" Brook found herself whispering, far more
curious than she should be considering Tanya was nothing but a stranger.

Tanya had no reservations about making her emotions known and nodded vigorously, resting
her head on a propped arm as she sighed, "I'm indivisible to her though. Sometimes I'm sure
the only love of her life are the books she carries. Ugh, I wish I was smart enough to join the
Decathlon Team so I could spend more time around her at least"

Interesting.

It would appear that Brooklyn would definitely see more of this so-called Michelle then.

It also occurred to Brook that she'd just gotten involved in personal talk with a fellow student.
Speaking of emotions with another was new, and something just odd enough to fit all the
other ridiculous happenings of the day. Even so, maybe it was because Tanya hadn't freaked
out over her being a Stark, or just the fact that something personal had been shared, but
Brook found herself wishing the girl good fortune on her love endeavors. Even if she found
such emotions to be a waste of time.

If only Ivan could see her now... hopefully, he wasn't somehow.

When class ended after an hour of monotone reading, Tanya insisted on walking Brook to her
next class. The ex-assassin had no clue how to reject the help in a polite way, so she'd let
Tanya walk her to history, which was a floor up from her Literature class.

After a quick trip to Brook's locker to fetch a new book, one of her ‘locker neighbors’ had
excitedly introduced himself, but Tanya was considerate enough to intervene by shooing him
away like a fly when she noticed Brooklyn's discomfort.

Maybe that's why she'd decided to stick by Tanya for a little bit longer than required, as a
way to keep others at bay.

In the hallways, students still stopped and turned to look at Brook unabashedly, but with the
passing of time, she'd gotten better at ignoring such stares while still remaining vigilant of her
surroundings.

Once at the door of her next class, Tanya glanced at Brooklyn's schedule and promised to sit
with her at lunch. They apparently shared no other classes. With a wave and a promise to
meet up later, her classmate disappeared among the crowds, and Brook was left with no other
choice than to walk into her next assigned room.

It was rather early, and most students still making the best out of their time out in the halls. It
was a masked blessing she hadn't been expecting, a way for fewer people to witness her
arrival.

Brooklyn's history teacher was a man in his late fifties, with some old-fashioned specs and a
bright red suit that barely fit his big frame. Unlike her previous teacher, this man didn't bat an
eye when she introduced herself, just took her permission slip to sign and sent her to one of
the many single student desks by the window.

The other two or so students in the class were busy taking out their supplies to notice her, so
Brook did the same, at last bothering to see what Pepper had deemed necessary to pack.
Notebooks, pencils, pens, the standard stuff. That and a carefully folded note between the
pages of an unsuspecting notebook with carefully neat penmanship with a single message.

Have a great day at school

PP

Brooklyn didn’t bother fooling herself as she neatly folded the note and tucked it into a
pocket of her backpack. Pepper Potts may be a commanding presence, but she’d never been
like the adults of such similar attributes she’d known from her past. Pepper was stern, but not
because she expected perfection, but rather because she…cared.

The note had not asked Brooklyn to behave, even if it would’ve been perfectly reasonable to
ask that of her given the background of sins she carried. Nor did Pepper bother with foolish
encouragement. It was a simple wish on the woman’s part, a hope that Brook would be
alright.

It made her all the more worried she’d disappointed Miss Potts with this morning’s
altercation.

Once all was settled on her pristine desk, the teen dared to check her phone, surprisingly
seeing a single notification from a contact titled as 'Natasha'.

The message was short and simple, just as Pepper’s had been. Only this one had been from
thirty minutes ago.

Otlichno srabotano. Well done.

Natasha likely heard what happened this morning, and also surprisingly didn't blame Brook
for it. Peculiar, considering Brooklyn would have thought the great heroes of the world
would've frowned upon actions that earned her punishment from school, but it appeared that
they barely cared for such shame.

They were an unpredictable bunch that was for sure...

Brook decided to text back as fast as she could with this new phone, typing out, Den' yeshche
ne okonchen, sestra.

It was true, what Brook replied. The day wasn't over yet.

So many things could still happen. So many instances yet to happen where things could go
wrong.

As if the world wanted to taunt her, once the bell rang, Flash and some of his groupies
shuffled into the room. Now with a bandage covering his temple, the nuisance from this
morning looked good as new and back in happy spirits.

Brooklyn briefly considered heading over and paying him back for the detention, but that
would likely only earn her more detentions and reasons for her principal to exploit her fame...
Thankfully, Flash and his friends settled down on the other side of the room, and the teacher
couldn't care less about introducing her to the class. He just went on with his lesson about
WWII, passing out a packet to take notes on as he addressed the class. Leaving her
undetected to those in the room, for now.

As for the topic in hand, she'd known all about the war prior to class, not just from her
previous school in Brooklyn, but because the Red Room had taught it to her. More so from
the perspective of Soviet Russia than this Nazi-villain American tale of tragedy. Still, Brook
elected to listen with care, fighting the urge to pull her hood back up when she began hearing
her name floating around.

By the time whispers of her presence had clearly arrived to Flash, the teacher was already
vigilantly teaching for him to do anything about it even if he looked like he wanted to.

Flash better keep in check, or Brook would give him more than just a scape on the cheek.

After some consideration, the girl decided to just keep her gaze forward, staring at the various
maps and historical posters around the room. Anything to fight the urge to kill and destroy a
boy who had wronged her.

To her amusement, some of the posters included a familiar face from these past few days.
The one and only Captain America was displayed in white and black posters all over the
room. Without the facial hair or the tracking device on his leg, of course. How comical that
even away from the compound, the pancake-making roommate still managed to show up
during her day?

She supposed that if anyone would scold her about today’s events, it might be the child of
righteousness and goodness. For that, she’d have to wait till her next inevitable trip to the
Compound.

"During the war, there was a branch of the Germans known as HYDRA, the ones who
brought down SHIELD a few years ago…." the teacher rambled on, his words snagging her
attention as he paced from one side of the room to the other with his back straight and hard
eyes scanning his students.

"Though I suppose he's considered a criminal now, Captain America and the Howling
Commandos put an end to them and their leader, Red Skull. Information of which WILL be
on your test" he said harshly, sending every student rushing to write down what he'd said,
including Brook.

She already knew this stuff, everyone did, but this man seemed like the 'no bullshit or I'll
send you to the office' kind. The ex-assassin couldn't afford another trip there. So she took
diligent notes, intent on reviewing them later even when the mention of HYDRA left a bitter
taste in her mouth.

Thankfully, the rest of the lesson was less focused on her new Compound neighbor or the
criminal organization he and the government fought in secret, and more on how the war went
on after his 'death'.
Without the interference of Hydra's forces or weapons after Rogers’ interventions, Brook
learned the war became a fairer playground. That is if you don’t count the alleged claims that
a God of War was involved, pulling the strings of conflict for years. Of course, the famous
amazon warrior now known as Wonder Woman stepped in and helped secure the way to
successful wins for the allies across Europe shortly after the Captain’s demise. ‘Killing the
god Ares’ while humanity successfully completed its mission of D-day.

It was rather ridiculous to hear all this, writing it down for an upcoming test.

Years ago super soldiers or amazons would have been nothing more than silly stories or tales
written for ancient comic book propaganda from the war, but both unlikely heroes had fought
in the war and somehow remained alive today. Looking young as their dusty posters in this
room.

It amused Brook that Earth was a popular attraction for mythical gods, for both Loki and
Ares had tried to take this planet over already. Brook could no longer recall the times when
mythology books were classified as fiction, because once she'd settled down in New York
they were already considered nothing but history, archived there too.

The more Brooklyn listened to her lesson, the more she learned about the past she'd never
taken a particular interest in until all the changes of recently.

Apparently, the newly founded SHIELD took care of planning the end of the war with the
leaders of the world. Doing important jobs like aiding in cracking the famed enigma code by
funding Alan Turning's research. They also provided aid for battles won with both soldiers
and secret intelligence.

All information which would be on the next test.

Overall, this lesson was likely just another cruel joke from the universe. No one in this class
knew Brooklyn was on her way to become a SHIELD agent herself. Hearing so much praise
for the beginnings of the organization her own grandfather had helped build made her uneasy,
made her feel like she wasn't cut out for that kind of good.

Thankfully, the lesson ended eventually. With the final threat of a quiz tomorrow.

Brook made sure to exit the classroom as quickly as possible to avoid Flash, and after going
back down to her locker (a bothersome routine), she had to make her way to the school gym
on the other side of the school. The walk was long, filled with unwanted stares and people
who felt the need to introduce themselves to her as she walked by. Some even invited Brook
over to their lunch tables, but their gazes were greedy for attention.

The girl had tried to be polite to them for the sake of appearances, but was rather focused on
getting to her next class.

Some Physical Education teacher found her along the way and took the time to explain the
workings of the changing room she was supposed to be in. Said teacher even signed Brook’s
slip so her actual teacher wouldn't have to, sparing the teen from another awkward
interaction.
Clutching the clothes she'd been given in the morning, Brook awkwardly changed into them
inside a room full of watchful girls while trying to hide her childhood scars from their gazes.
It was a miracle when she finally made it to the large gym, all the girls none the wiser of her
past.

The clothes she had on now were not the most comfortable, and Brook was certain she
looked absolutely ridiculous in those yellow shorts, the shirt she'd been given being a little
tight in the bust area. If it was even possible, she felt paler than usual.

Eventually, clusters of students made their way inside, sitting on the bleachers where Brook
was doing her best to remain unbothered. She'd thought this would be another class spent
alone, with no one like Tanya to talk to.

Then a familiar pair of eyes met her own down by the main doors.

It was that Michelle girl from Literature, dressed as Brook was but looking infinitely less
uncomfortable about it. Out of her own volition, the girl scanned the bleachers and made way
to sit next to Brooklyn, eyes immediately going back to the book she’d set down on her lap.
Surprised that someone was actually bold enough to join her, other students glanced
regretfully in their direction, likely waging how much valor they held to try and sit next to
Brook now that one of their peers was successful.

Neither girl said anything about the unforeseen company as the other students took their
seats, that is until two other familiar boys made their way inside the gym, laughing at some
private joke when they caught Brook’s eye.

The first she noticed was the poor kid from this morning, a bruise already forming under his
right eye staining the skin a sickly shade of purple and green.

Peter Parker.

His friend from this morning actually noticed her first, nudging Parker while taking his arm
and dragging him over to the highest bleachers where Brooklyn and Michelle sat in silence.

Meaning, they were all third years just like her.

"Hey Michelle!" the unnamed boy greeted, waving as he sat down beside her while the
Parker kid reluctantly took the spare space next to Brook, "See you've met the new girl"

Michelle nodded, then leaned over to look at Parker as if she’d been waiting to speak to him.

"Nice look Peter, but eye shadow is supposed to go atop the eyelid, not under your eye," she
said, causing Brook to actually fight back a smile despite the mental aches she’d gone
through protecting Peter from greater harm.

Peter touched his damaged skin, sarcastically laughing at her words.

"Thanks for that, MJ" Parker said, then motioned a thumb between both girls, "You two
met?"
Michelle, or MJ, whatever her name was, shrugged, "We have Honors Literature together"

When both guys' gazes met hers, Brook added awkwardly, "We do. How is the eye?"

Peter Parker seemed as surprised by her question as she was in asking it. Saving him from
momentary pain was one thing, actually bothering to make sure he was ok afterward was not
something Brooklyn had been planning to do.

Why did she care for everyone's well-being so suddenly then?

"Um, I'm well. Ned took me to the nurse and she gave me some ice" the teen stuttered,
pointing toward his friend. Ned wasted no time going on about how cool Brook’s
intervention had been, an altercation that MJ had apparently missed.

"Good for you, Brooklyn. Flash goes too far sometimes," MJ said, keeping her eyes on the
opened book on her lap despite having a flash of anger swim amongst them for a second.

"Did you get in trouble?" Ned asked Brook, while nervously eyeing the door, no doubt for the
arrival of the teacher.

Ned, Brook realized, was far more energetic than MJ. She wondered if his being around
Parker every time they’d all met was coincidental or if the friendship between both boys was
a strong bond. The care for the other’s well-being was definitely there, Ned bothered to take
Peter to the nurse’s office after all.

Despite his advantageous weight, the boy didn’t seem like the type to throw punches. Likely
had never been able to defend his bullied friend as he might wish. Perhaps that is why he
spoke of Brooklyn’s actions this morning with an air of awe and admiration.

Shrugging, Brooklyn replied while trying not to let her tone sound too annoyed, "I just earned
detention after school, and I have to join the Decathlon Team next week"

Ned suddenly clapped his hands in excitement, and the other two people around her looked
up at Brook with equal surprise. A pleasant surprise, she realized.

"We're all on the team!" Peter said, "MJ is actually the leader this year"

MJ, eyes still bored and tone bland said, "Welcome to the nerd club then"

So this was the Miss Jones the principal had spoken of...

It wasn't the warmest welcome, but Brook found herself appreciating it in her own way. At
least she already knew three people she'd be competing alongside with. Michelle already
seemed like a smart and dedicated girl, a decent leader. Perhaps that part of per punishment
wouldn't be so bad, and wouldn't consist of unpleasant company.

The one thing that WAS rather bothersome was today's lesson.

The room went quiet as soon as their bored P.E. teacher strolled in, dragging a dusty old TV
into the gym to show a video. He didn’t bother with introductions or instructions, nothing
more than the minimum of actions as turning on the ancient device.

Brook might've found the behavior peculiar for a teacher were it not for the fact that surprise
lit her face when she saw Captain America in his full-spangled suit, talking about some
fitness challenge they'd all have to accomplish.

How was that guy everywhere!?, Brook thought bitterly. More than that, why was everyone
suddenly staring at her too? As if Rogers being in a video was somehow attributed to...oh
right...

Ned leaned over Michelle, whispering her confirmed suspicions towards Brook, "Do you
know him? Your dad obviously knows him"

Brook nodded, trying to seem overly pleased at the mention of someone who was supposed
to be close like family. She wasn't even sure if Stark thought of Rogers that way anymore, but
this was part of her new role as a Stark.

"Of course I do, Ro...Steve is family" she choked out the words with a pained smile.

Ned seemed more than pleased by that answer, muttering something about it being cool and
all until the video ended and the indifferent P.E. teacher ushered everyone down to start the
'challenge' trials.

Brooklyn had expected to go at it alone, but surprisingly, the Decathlon members stuck by
her, effectively keeping other curious students at bay, seeing she now had 'a group of friends'
who had claimed her as their own. She let them belive it.

The teacher looked over his bright orange clipboard, reading off the instructions with about
as much enthusiasm as a turtle. Everyone was arranged into lanes before a set of thick ropes
attached to the ceiling of the gym. The command was simple, climb up the rope, ring the bell,
and you pass.

Some students began to complain or grunted lazily, meanwhile, Brook couldn't believe this
was considered a challenge when she'd been trained to climb over bare walls since she could
stand…until her nails broke off and she had to fight the trail of her own bloody hands to
make it to the top of the room where she was tested on her marksmanship while bullets
pierced the space around her, trying to find their take on flesh.

Though apparently it wasn't meant to be a competition, two people always climbed at a time
despite having the same objective. The teacher mentioned it had something to do with
motivation. Brooklyn thought it was a bunch of bullshit.

The kids that went before her were not very athletically inclined, no surprise there. Only a
handful had managed to ring the copper bell at the top, even then, some of those kids found
difficulty in getting back down. One guy had even lost his grip and plummeted five feet to
the mats, much to her amusement after he’d boasted about his skills prior to the trial.

Peter Parker was lined up before her, seemingly unexcited by this task, even more so when
one of the 'jocks' of the class was set to climb at the same time as him. Still, the feeble boy
went up to the rope when his time came, and with great difficulty, he made it to the halfway
point before having to come down.

Brook heard some snickers from down the lines as if some of them hadn't failed miserably as
well. Peter's cheeks reddened almost as bright as his bruising eye, but thumbs up from MJ
and Ned behind Brook sent him smiling back down the line.

That particular display wasn’t amusing in the least as previous failures had been. Praise from
a few friends while the rest of the class mocked Peter…that wasn't enough for Brook though.
Not enough justice for the humiliation the bruised boy received.

Only this time Brooklyn would not risk punishment to set the record straight, she didn’t have
to.

When her turn came at least, and her 'motivation' was some random ‘jock’ who looked like
he'd rather fail than go up that high, Brok smirked at her luck. He’d been one of the kids
laughing the loudest at Parker’s failure after all.

His scrawny arms were already straining as he held on to his rope, and as soon as the
teacher's whistle blew, Brooklyn grabbed onto the thick rope before her, and thanks to her
intense workout hours during the weekends, she soared over to the top with ease. Maybe it
was too much bravado, but to further humiliate the boy, she even let her feet dangle in the air
as she rang the bell. Just as swiftly as she'd ascended, the girl climbed halfway down the rope
before letting it go completely and landing easily on the blue mat.

She would have done a flip, but that would be over the top, especially in a room full of idiots
whose opinions mattered little to Brook.

Those who had been laughing at their peers' attempts had come to complete silence, and
Brook fought back a grin as she made it to the back of the line where Parker was waiting.
Mouth open, eyes wide.

When she got close enough she whispered to him, "I don't think they'll be laughing at anyone
now"

Brooklyn hadn't even registered she’d done Parker another bit of kindness until she noticed
his beaming smile, and saw those doe eyes shift into crescent moons that mirrored his
happiness. Joy, Brook realized, was directed at her.

Unsure what to do, the ex-assassin kept her gaze away from his, even when MJ and Ned
joined after an undisturbed climb despite their results. Instead, she mentally scolded herself
for even daring to care for that nerd’s emotions, risking a showcasing of her true skills just to
lift his spirits.

She would not show it, but the teen was as stunned as she was confused by her own behavior.
It wouldn't be the last time her actions were put into question as the day pressed on.
 Lunch Group
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

The rest of the fitness trial brought no real challenge for Brook, how could it?

Push-ups, pull-ups, jumping jacks, and even a few laps around the gym were executed
perfectly with the highest scores (if this thing was even scored, Brook wasn't sure). For her
own sanity, Brooklyn just secretly decided it was, crowning herself the victor of the day
without anyone knowing.

Her 'group' of classmates did fairly well all things considered. MJ hadn't set her book down
once, yet managed to get a passing score in most challenges. Despite his heavier build, Ned
completed everything but the rope challenge as well, granted he complained about being
exhausted the entire time, eager for lunchtime like most of their classmates.

As for Peter, he struggled, but got through the challenges as well, only failing that rope
challenge from the beginning of class. Though he didn't seem torn up about it either because
of her intervention or by simply being used to his own lack of strength.

In the end, people were still staring at her funny, but the urge to kill them was far from her
mind. She'd shown them who was better adapted to survive, and maybe it was her Red Room
experience that made her feel overly satisfied with her flawless performance, but by the time
she went back to the locker rooms with MJ, all seemed well with the world despite this
morning’s mishap.

That happiness carried onto her next two classes, Calculus, and Basic Engineering. She
wasn't spoken to in either of those classes nor did the teachers bother introducing the one
student everyone knew by now. She just listened to her lessons with little to no interest,
taking note of her upcoming assignments, and was even provided with some 'catch-up work'
as well as offers for tutoring from both teachers and students.

Like she'd need that.

With only two classes left in the day, it was finally time for lunch.

At Adelphi Academy High School, lunch could be eaten anywhere on the sprawling green
campus, which probably made it her favorite time of the day. Brook had taken to eating hers
in solitude at one of the lavish gardens on the roof, with only plants and pesky birds as
companions, mostly those robins that nested up on the trees she liked to sit under. On rainy
days, she'd go to the music room to play the grand piano in silence along with her meal.

When she'd asked her Engineering teacher for the designated areas to eat, he'd looked at her
funny and said only the cafeteria was allowed. That meant being in a room full of people for
an hour.

Zdorovo. Great.

Such news had slightly fluctuated her good mood, but not enough to risk getting in trouble
for trying to eat elsewhere in an attempt to find solitude. Seeing she was now a celebrity, her
absence would be noticed, and punishment might be enacted.

So Brooklyn reluctantly made her way to the area most students were headed to eagerly on
the second floor. Brook had stood in line to get a salad and some questionable-looking
nuggets, which she opted to wash down with a carton of apple juice most students in line
seemed to favor. A few of them relented the serving spoons to her first, and some kid down
the line had hollered for her attention with the offer to pay for her meal if she sat with him.

Brooklyn had ignored him. Despite how much it irked her to use it, she’d handed over the
twenty Stark had given her and once her change was in hand, she quickly moved away from
the serving area.

Her calm expression threatened to waver when she noticed many students were eagerly
motioning for her to join them. Too many kids, too many eyes, and expectations. She
pretended not to notice, casting her gaze around the unfamiliar space instead.

To her horror, the rest of the cafeteria was almost as big as the gym. It was filled with long
tables scattered around the room, all of which belonged to one identifiable click or another.
Everyone knew where to go, they had a place that was theirs. For a few seconds, Brook just
stood there, trying to find an empty table to claim as her own, but there were hundreds of
students in one room, not one spared a table she could’ve designated to the nonexistent click
of ‘ex-assassins’.

When she began debating eating outside despite the consequences to get away from the
pressing stares, a hip bumped against hers, almost making Brook lose balance thanks to the
growing weight of her backpack.

It was no threat, she realized with a bit of exasperation. Thankfully, it was only Tanya, the
chipper girl from Literature.

"I've been looking for you!" she said while balancing her own worn tray, "How's your day
been? There is certainly a lot of gossip about you spreading across the school, you know?"

Brook sighed, clutching her own tray tightly.

"It's been well. Nothing too difficult, I suppose"

Tanya smiled, not bothering to ask as she ushered Brook towards the back of the cafeteria
towards a table full of girls with faces too busy staring at hand-held mirrors, some even
practicing cheers to the sound of the noisy room.

They looked like a close-knit group of girls, with overly confident personalities and far too
much interest in their physical looks. Most of them were eyeing the guys on the table beside
theirs, the ones with the letterman jackets. Some of which Brooklyn recognized as Flash's
friends.

Brooklyn almost denied the silent invitation to sit with Tanya's friends, but then the brunette
suddenly went wide-eyed, turning Brook's gaze to the other end of the room where Ned was
waving enthusiastically, motioning to the incredibly empty table that only included him,
Peter, and Michelle.

Soon both Ned and Peter were motioning rather shyly for Brook to join them once she caught
their eye. All the while MJ hadn't even noticed a thing, too busy with a book.

Tanya squealed, whispering, "Look! We can go sit with MJ, can we please go!?"

The brown-haired girl began to pout while her body was still shaking with excitement. At
first, Brook assumed Tanya was friends with the Decathlon students, but then she
remembered the confession over MJ in class.

There was a desire Tanya had to be near MJ despite the reported unrequited emotions
between them. It was an ache so strong that Brook could almost see it in the girl’s kind eyes.

Brook wasn't sure why she agreed, but the next thing she knew, the ex-assassin was sitting
across from the guys, Tanya having claimed the spot between MJ and Brook with not-so-
subtle excitement. She even went as far as to fix her azure shirt and leggings, in what Brook
assumed to be an effort to be noticed by the decathlon leader, still too busy with her nose in a
book.

"I'm Tanya. I hope you don't mind but I promised Brooklyn I'd sit with her today" her
classmate said, earning a head shake from the boys who shyly welcomed her to the table. MJ
looked up then, giving Tanya a thumbs up before diving back into her tale.

Beside her, Brook could practically feel the restrained excitement rolling off the girl's body
over a mere thumbs up. She made a silent note of the influence such romantic emotions could
have on an individual. To use against someone in the future or for research on people her age,
she wasn’t sure yet.

As she consumed her salad and nuggets, Brook caught on to her name being mentioned a few
times in the nearby area, but most of it was muffled by Ned and Peter's excited talks over the
new Star Wars lego set.

Ned insisted he'd buy it during the weekend, and it took a while for Brook to realize he was
referring to the one from the commercial she'd seen back at the compound. Back before her
last name had changed, when she’d allowed a temporary truce between her and Spider-man.

"Oh, How about you Brooklyn? Do you like Star Wars?" Ned asked.

Brook was brought back to that conversation with Spider-man a few days ago. How he too
had been as excited as these boys over such a lego set. It made her feel inadequate once again
to be out of the loop of knowledge, no matter how silly it was.
Knowledge was perhaps the greatest weapon to be wielded, not knowing something having
the possibility of being a crippling weakness in some cases.

"All I know is that Empire Strikes Back is the best movie of the lot" she replied while
opening her juice carton, remembering the spiderling's words from that day. Her only aid in
this teenage conversation she'd never been trained to uphold.

Peter choked on his water then, needing assistance from Ned to calm back down. Brooklyn
became very aware of how accident and danger prone the poor guy was. Even water was a
danger for Peter Parker.

When he recovered, the first thing Peter did was smile.

"It is the best one, you're right! You should see the movies one day, they're great"

Funny how when Peter Parker said it, the idea didn't seem so bad. But when that idiot Spider-
man had suggested it, Brook had wanted to claw his face off at the mere suggestion of
spending time together.

Brooklyn nodded sheepishly, "One day perhaps, right now I'm just trying to settle down"

Tanya wordlessly handed Brook a wrapped chocolate chip cookie, which she still suspected
of poison, but not as much as this morning's gum offering.

Maybe food offerings were normal amongst classmates? A tradition she might’ve missed at
her old school.

From his seat, Ned whined, staring at the cookie longingly. Brook even caught Peter shooting
a few looks toward it. Somehow, Brooklyn had ended up splitting the cookie between the five
of them. Even MJ ate it without a hitch, and Tanya seemed pleased that a part of her cookie
had been consumed by the girl of her affections.

They all ate their bits with muffled thank you's, so Brook did the same, finally deeming it
safe when none of them collapsed on the floor. Not that any of them knew part of her
kindness had been to test the safety of the food.

"How are you liking Queens so far?" Peter asked, wiping the remnants of cookie crumbs on
his jeans.

How could she explain that she'd barely arrived at Queen's this morning? Seen none of it
outside a car window this morning while she’d been busy freaking out.

"It's nice, quieter than Brooklyn" she answered, drawing on the few observations she'd made
so far, however bland they were.

The group appeared to like that answer because they all nodded in understanding. There was
pride in their eyes that only people who cherished their home carried, even at this young an
age. Brook had only ever seen it, never felt it even in her crappy apartment. Though she
didn’t often linger on such thoughts, she couldn't help but feel a bit distressed over that fact.
That she had no real home to call her own. At least not yet.

"There are so many places you need to visit! Like the Queen's Museum, they have an exhibit
of your dad there!" Brook suppressed her flinch at Peter's words, "Oh and you should go to
Flushing Meadows Corona Park!"

"That park IS beautiful, but there are always so many anti-alien and anti-mutant protests. You
should go there during the weekdays, there is less of that then" Tanya suggested.

Ned, seemingly excited by the topic added, "There is also the zoo AND the Hall of Science!
You definitely have to go to those!"

MJ set her book down, frowning at the boys, "There is also MoMA PS1, it hosts
contemporary art shows. And Queen's Botanical Garden recently reopened"

Tanya beamed, clapping her hands, "Yes those places are the best! I love them! Good
thinking Michelle!"

Brooklyn almost laughed when MJ just nodded, shrugging away the praise in favor of going
back to the comforts of her book. Tanya’s beam didn’t lessen because of it regardless.

"Well, since I live here now, maybe I'll go," Brook muttered, playing with the ends of her red
hair as she pondered when she'd have time to see such places. Even in her time living in
Brooklyn’s borders, she'd rarely gone out somewhere that wasn't work or school.

"Speaking of which," Tanya exclaimed, "did you and your dad move here alright?"

Chort voz'mi. Hell.

"It’s just me for now while all this press stuff dies down. I'll go visit...dad on the weekends so
as to not interrupt his hero work" she replied, cursing her necessary half-truths and half-lies
that would’ve made Ivan proud.

Ned clapped his hands excitedly, "It must be awesome having Iron Man as your dad! Though
I'm sure you get tired of hearing that. Probably miss him too if you haven't been living
together for a while"

It had barely been a day and she WAS tired of it. More so of the act.

Brooklyn tried her best at a convincing smile, "It's not a problem. Besides, I like the
independence of living by myself"

Probably the most sincere thing she'd said all day.

Tanya smirked, looping an arm around Brook's shoulders, which the ex-assassin tried very
hard to not shove off. A small victory.

"Of course, it isn't a problem being on your own! Half of the boys in our class are dying to
ask you out, you won't be alone going to those places. Last period, I even heard some of the
seniors talking about how hot you look"
To further her point, Tanya pointed subtly around the room, where guys at various tables
behind them were already staring their way, "I heard even Flash is formulating a foolproof
plan to make you his"

Brook almost gagged, "I practically humiliated him in front of the school. Why would he of
all people want to 'ask me out' then?"

The girl chuckled, "Oh, you don't know a thing about guys, do you? Your dad must’ve scared
any guys away, huh?"

Brooklyn looked towards Ned and Peter for help. Ned was too busy nodding away to
everything Tanya had said, while Peter was just red-faced, opting to stare down at his phone.
Even if Tanya's confusing words held some sort of truth, she decided not to think too much
about them. It didn't matter who asked her out, Brook would deny advancements from any of
them.

She'd likely deny any advancements made to her for the rest of her life. No one would ever
catch her eye, not with her unique past and circumstances. Plus that required a level of trust
her people simply did not possess, and none of the idiots behind her would understand that.

With equal disgust as the idea of being asked out by Flash, as soon as Brooklyn took a sip out
of the favored apple juice, she almost threw it up on the spot. It took a surprising amount of
restraint to keep her face impassive.

Was THAT the poison she'd been expecting!?

Brooklyn was not a picky eater, but that was disgustingly sour. Painfully so.

She'd spent the rest of lunchtime in and out of conversations with her table wondering if
she’d die on the spot, scanning around the room as students sipped their apple juice like it
was nothing. Only Peter Parker seemed to understand her disgust, stating that's why he tried
to drink water instead.

How he’d noticed her unease, she still wasn’t sure. Yet Brooklyn had learned her lesson.

Apple juice. Bad.

When the bell rang and the group discarded their leftovers and trays, Brook was asked about
her remaining two classes to see who could walk her over. It turned out, she had both
Advanced Chemistry and Spanish with the boy she'd saved this morning. Peter gladly offered
to walk with her, while the rest of the group went back down to the first floor.

This time, Brooklyn bothered with a farewell, which the three students happily returned.
Brook also didn't miss Tanya's beaming smile at the opportunity of walking along with MJ if
only for a few minutes. A small amusement that would no doubt continue for the rest of the
school year.

During that passing period, Brooklyn also learned a few things about this Parker boy.
For one, he was incredibly shy, and most of the student body paid him no mind. Even as
people gawked her way, no one's eyes turned towards Peter, almost like he was invisible
somehow.

Secondly, Peter was very awkward when it came to speaking, but if he found an interesting
topic, he wouldn't shut up about it. He was a knowledgeable guy, and if the cluster of books
he carried indicated anything, he was also incredibly smart. He took classes of equal level as
her own by the looks of it.

Lastly, this boy was uncommonly kind, almost to a fault. Even when he was ignored and
pushed around in the halls, he still reached out to help out a girl who'd dropped her books,
and he'd patiently pointed out classrooms around the school for Brook's benefit. In just five
minutes, Brooklyn had this boy figured out, but she just couldn't understand him.

He was so different from her, weak enough that she found herself unknowingly worrying
over his safety in a lab she figured would be filled with all kinds of dangerous substances.

Once in Chemistry class, Peter had proven his kindness once more not only by sticking by
her side, but by introducing Brook to Ms. Warren, another serious individual. She'd wasted
no time signing her slip and handing the teen some safety equipment for the day's lab.

"Mr. Parker is my best student, you can be his lab partner while his is away. When that
student returns, you can be a group of three." the teacher said, pointing to the blushing boy,
"For now, Peter should help you get settled into class"

Brook nodded, making her way with her new lab partner to a table already set up with labeled
beakers, bunsen burners, and even a few ring stands with empty tubes.

Parker took the stool closest to the walkway between tables, so Brook settled on the window
seat closest to the sink atop the black counter of their massive table. The boy opened a drawer
between them, taking out his own lab coat and goggles as he pointed out the workings of the
lab with the ease of someone in his element.

After everyone had filed in and the experiment of the day had been assigned, Brook and Peter
worked surprisingly well, finishing in no time with results she could consider perfect.

Peter WAS a smart kid, certainly worthy of being in a Decathlon team and not as accident-
prone as she'd originally feared. It was surprising he could be so overlooked by his peers with
that kind of intelligence, though Brooklyn supposed perhaps teens their age didn’t much care
for such things.

Throughout the lab, Brook had no trouble keeping up with his work pace, understanding
basic chemistry quite well thanks to her nuclear chemistry lessons as a child. Peter actually
seemed impressed by her work, and even praised her afterward when they were washing their
supplies.

It would seem that praise was something she'd have to grow used to...
By the end of the lab, the pair had been congratulated by the teacher, and the two had been
dismissed a few minutes earlier than the still working students as a reward. The pair had
walked over to their next class side by side once again, both stopping by their lockers, which
were relatively close to each other (as she'd noted from that morning’s fight).

Thanks to the head start by Ms. Warren, there had been little to no interruptions as they made
their way over to the top floor of the school.

At first glance, Brook noticed her Spanish class was a burst of color compared to the sterile
science lab from earlier. Bright posters full of conjugations and witty Spanish jokes filled the
room, along with some student projects that were equally as crafty.

Taking a foreign language was a requirement at this school, and by the look on everyone's
dead faces, Brook could tell most of the students were just hoping to pass. None understood
the advantages of having multiple languages in your arsenal, though he supposed as an
assassin such skills had different meanings.

Not Peter though, he'd greeted Maestra Diaz with enthusiasm.

She'd shared the sentiment with a "Buenas tardes, Señor Parker"

When the teacher caught Brook's unusual presence, she'd beamed, working her way around
the cluttered desk to take the slip from her, "You must be the famous Brooklyn Stark.
Welcome to Spanish level 3"

"Thank you," Brook said with a small smile that was slowly getting easier to summon.

"We only speak Spanish in this class, if you aren't at that level yet I can talk to the office so
we can move you to a lower level" the woman offered kindly after signing the slip.

A lower level? Was that a joke?

"Eso no será un problema, puedo hablar Español bastante bien" Brook replied, hearing a
surprised 'wow' from Peter by her side.

Her new teacher beamed once again, realizing that what Brook said was true.

This class wouldn't be a problem, she could speak Spanish fairly well.

"Bien. Bien. Puedes sentarte en el escritorio detrás del Señor Parker" Maestra Diaz said,
turning back to her desk while humming a jolly tune.

Doing as she was told, Brook sat on the desk behind Peter, which she realized wouldn't be
shared with another student by the time the bell rang. A small mercy.

The last hour of her day had been spent listening to conjugations and playing fun games to
make the information stick. Brook wasn't used to that sort of learning, especially when she
remembered the way Spanish—along with the other languages in her arsenal—had been
shoved into her brain as a kid. Not in a rewarding environment like this class, but one filled
with the looming threat of deadly punishments.
By the end of class, once the final bell of school rang, Brook walked out of the classroom
with her Spanish homework finished and a cherry lollipop in hand for answering a
pathetically simple question right.

As a last-minute decision she might’ve pondered on for too long, she'd bothered saying
goodbye to Peter before heading separate ways, even when he insisted he could walk with
her. Instead, Brook just waved goodbye as she descended the stairs, leaving the boy so he
could head home.

Brooklyn still had detention to serve after all...

By the time she made it down to the third floor, an empty history classroom greeted her. A
man dressed in Midtown High sports attire welcomed her with a bored tone, one that was far
too familiar even when his face was covered by a newspaper.

That's when Brook made the connection that this man was her P.E. teacher.

Just great.

"They told me someone would come in," he said, placing his feet up on the desk and leaning
back on the worn chair, "what are you in for, Stark?"

He'd asked that as if she was sentenced to jail. Not a far-off assumption considering she was
on thin ice with Fury, SHIELD for that matter.

"I pushed a kid off another" Brook answered angrily, setting down her backpack on one of
the empty desks before sinking into another in the middle of the room.

Since most students were already downstairs, the hallways were quiet, and when no one else
showed up, her teacher turned on the worn TV in the middle of the room, a twin to the one
they'd used back at the gym.

"I know you must see this guy a lot being a Stark and all, but I have to play this anyways," he
said lazily, turning on the screen. A screen where Captain fucking America was intervening
wither life once again.

Did he have a video for everything!? Did he own the school out of some righteous instinct to
help educate younger generations?

Brooklyn had to sit there for thirty minutes, listening to a speech about how wrong she was to
get detention, about what she could learn from this mistake...blah blah blah. It felt an awful
lot like the reprimands she’d been expecting from Stark and Pepper this morning, only this
was infinitely more humiliating somehow.

Learning from mistakes, hah! Her greatest mistake had been to not flee the country as soon as
she saw Tony Stark in her apartment, not shoving a kid into a locker! But as promised, Brook
took the punishment with as much dignity as she had left, then spent some time actually
finishing all her homework in hopes time would fly by faster.
 Seemingly done with life itself, the teacher dismissed her a few minutes early so he could go
home to watch some sports game. Brooklyn had gladly left the classroom without debate, and
after a trip for necessary books from her locker, she was ready to go home at last.

With a tired sigh, Brook realized this had to have been the longest day of her life.

Once at the front of the school, Brook basked in the small breeze of the cloudy day. Below,
people were out on the field practicing football and some track sports. There were also some
students seated on the various outdoor bleachers, clad in cheer uniforms while they gossiped
and laughed.

She'd recognized them as Tanya's friends and even managed to spot the brunette among them,
too busy stretching to notice Brooklyn's presence.

Knowing she'd have to make it through the busy field at some point, Brooklyn strapped the
backpack in place and held her books tight, motivated to finally find the place she’d be
calling home for the time being...

But when she made it to the bottom of the stone steps, the teen was stopped by a series of
shouts.

Chapter End Notes

I will like to take this moment to note that I am not fluent in Spanish or Russian. Please
spare me if I wrote anything wrong. I tried. May the High School Spanish gods bless my
memory!

That being said, I went through the trouble of navigating unknown languages for a
reason. Russian is self-explanatory enough seeing as Brook grew up in Russia. As for
the Spanish, it's part of my little headcanon that Tony was mostly raised by nannies
rather than his parents (of which we might get glimpses of in the future). Because of it,
he likely was lucky enough to learn Spanish early on in his life, and seeing as Peter is
taking the class, I always imagined if Pete ever ran into homework troubles of the sort,
he'd ask Mr. Stark for help.

In this instance, I think seeing Brook speaking Spanish with such ease reminded Peter of
her father. He saw some of his mentor in her.

Chapter 18 might have a few references to this as well, but I just thought it was
something inconsequential but adorable nonetheless.
 Delmar's and Queens

Brooklyn POV-

"Brooklyn! Wait up!" a male voice said behind her.

For a second, Brook feared Spider-man had finally found her, especially because a simple
talk with Stark on the happenings of the day would've made that possibility easy enough.
Luckily, when she turned around there was only the least Spider-man-like guy in all of
Queens.

Peter Parker was running her way, his backpack bouncing wildly with every jog.

"What are you still doing here after school?" Brook asked, helping Peter straighten out the
books in his hands, afraid that if they fell, they'd take him down as well.

He didn't seem to mind his disheveled state but thanked her noteless.

The boy then smiled brightly, motioning to the higher floors of the school behind them, "I
had a Decathlon meeting today. I suppose you will too next week. Did you um…just finish
detention?"

That she had. It was wonderful, and something she'd never be caught dead doing again if she
had any say on the matter.

Of course, she didn't actually say that...

"All done...well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow" Brook said, guessing the pleasantries
exchanged had been enough. She was getting ready to head out, mentally scolding her social
skills that clearly needed refining, when she heard Peter's stammers start off again.

"I feel really bad that you served detention because of me" he said, and before Brook could
assure him all was well, he added, "I always go to Delmar's after school, it's a Deli and Grill
place not too far from here. I could...I'll buy you a sandwich as thanks for what you did. It's
the least I can do"

No one had ever offered to buy her food as thanks for anything.

Of course, kind and benevolent Peter Parker would think he owed her such a favor after she
spared him from a pathetic bully. In the eyes of someone with a mundane life, Brook
supposed getting rid of what must be the pinnacle of his troubles seemed like a huge ordeal.
In her reality, Flash was nothing but a powerless ant she could destroy in seconds, and
unbeknownst to Parker, Brooklyn was perhaps not the best company in the world seeing as
she was a trained killer and all.

Maybe she should spare him that trouble. Spare him the guilt of staying by her side out of a
misguided sense of thanks. Her last kindness to a boy who was perhaps far too gentle and
naive to get caught up in the web of death she found herself weaving since her youth.

Brook shook her head, "You don't owe me anything. Flash is a piece of shit, he deserved what
he got and I served my punishment. No harm done"

The ex-assassin couldn't even wrap her head around the current situation, she was actually
trying to spare someone's feelings...doing her best to push someone away out of kindness she
found herself unwilling to exercise more and more each day.

Somehow, Parker had made an impression on her during these fleeting hours of her first day
of school. Protecting him had become a most peculiar instinct, whether it be making sure
beakers full of acid remained away from his skin…or making sure he stayed away from the
girl with enough blood on her hands to fill up the Hudson River.

Peter shook his head despite her gentle and masked warnings, brown locks waving around
wildly against the cold winds.

"You said you live alone right? Just let me make it up to you with a meal, that way you don't
have to make anything. Plus you'll love Delmar's, it's a great place!"

Brooklyn had also never gone anywhere with anyone her age, and being asked by a guy who
genuinely wanted to right a wrong was by far one of the weirdest occurrences of her day. One
of the most surprising displays of selflessness she'd come across and was unable to not
analyze with something more than scrutiny.

This wasn't a trap, of that she was most certain. Peter was harmless, likely more so than a fly,
so it was almost unlikely the gentle nerd was trying to kill her. Using her to gain social status
was also unlikely, he flinched away from any and all attention almost as much as she craved
to, which she had noticed as well.

Plus, he wasn't wrong, it was true Brook didn't know Queens well enough to find places to
eat yet. Maybe this wasn’t her accepting an invitation to open a vulnerability and falter in her
restrained trust, instead, this could be seen as a beneficial way to get to know her
surroundings before she could go out to explore on her own.

Yes, that’s what she would tell herself.

Shifting her gaze towards the field, Brooklyn couldn't find it in herself to look the boy in the
eye as she replied, "Fine, Parker. But I still have some lunch money left over, I'll pay for the
both of us in exchange for a tour of Queens as we pass by"

When Brook turned around, her lab partner nodded with a shy smile, and hesitantly offered to
carry her two books. Brooklyn would have refused, sure that such weight in addition to his
much larger cluster of books would likely tire Peter out by the time they made it to the gates,
if not tip him over on the spot. Surprisingly, he just took the books in hand and easily guided
her towards the right side of the field where they could pass undisturbed under a tunnel of
trees instead.
There was still some part of her, however irrational, that considered Peter might try and kill
her then in such a secluded area. But to no one’s surprise, the walk went by undisturbed.

That was probably the last time she'd be stupid enough to think Peter Parker was a threat.

The walk was pleasant, and in no time she found herself outside the large gates of Midtown
High, where the city of Queens came to life. Now that she didn't look at it from behind a car
window, this place was...slightly familiar. There were an array of tall buildings in the
distance, pedestrians making their way through the various businesses on the other side of the
street, most of which carried umbrellas due to the cloudy sky. It still had that same 'city feel'
as the city of Brooklyn had, but there was an air of innocence and relaxation.

Brooklyn couldn't quite pinpoint it, but the city felt different. Perhaps not a bad different after
all.

It almost surprised her that Brooklyn and Queens could be so different despite their
closeness. Where the city of Brooklyn had taken the Battle of New York in Manhattan as a
personal offense, a reason to constantly keep their guard up, this place was not of the same
mindset. Brooklyn was still a relatively calm place, nothing like places such as the crime city
of the world, Gotham was just outright awful by anyone’s standards. But there was no sense
of peaceful living back in her old city, only the reality of existing.

Queens (a city right next to Brooklyn, the same distance away from Manhattan) was peaceful
with a strange aura of confidence. Perhaps it was due to the fact that the city of Brooklyn had
no hero to place its faith in, no delusion of an extra air of security.

Not that she was praising Spider-man of course...but perhaps he had something to do with
this unlikely irregularity.

As promised, Peter took her the long way to Delmar's, pointing out a few useful places like a
common supermarket she could frequent, a few restaurants with food highly recommended
by him, and even a store with school supplies should she ever need them.

"Oh! If you follow that street down the block, there is a clothing store my aunt really likes.
So maybe you…as a girl I mean, will like it too" he stammered as they weaved through the
crowds.

Brooklyn fought back a smile, thinking of all the clothes she'd bought at the mall yesterday.
She'd likely never need clothes again after that, but still made a mental note about the store,
just like everything else Peter pointed out, no matter how long the explanation or ridiculous
the place was.

"There is also a pharmacy two blocks from here that's open 24/7, they sell some really good
slushies," Peter added with a beaming smile that made his chocolate-colored eyes shine like
pools of sunlight under the sun’s shy rays.

What on Earth was a slushy? Brook thought, finding herself unable to stop the boy’s
ramblings to even dare to ask.
Parker was so enthralled in his tour that Brooklyn had to pull him closer to her side at the
very last minute as she noticed a bike rushing past them. Only because her instincts had acted
up so quickly had he barely made it safely away from the bike's path that rushed past them. It
had all happened so quickly Brooklyn almost didn't register it; she'd acted without thinking,
making the unconscious decision to save his life… and that her hand still clutched his worn
hoodie.

A few pedestrians yelled at the bicyclist, and some even shot concerned stares Peter's way. To
Brook's surprise, Peter didn't seem aggravated in the least, he was smiling down at her with a
look she'd never seen directed her way. She was almost speechless trying to make sense of it.

"Oh, thanks!" he whispered sheepishly, the hair atop his head ticking her forehead from how
close they stood as he added with a smile, "You keep saving me today!"

Honestly, she had no clue as to why she kept doing so. If someone were to be shot in the
middle of the street at that moment, Brooklyn wouldn't bat an eye at it. Maybe it was his
sweet innocence...that smile of his.

She quickly removed her hold on him, coming back to her senses.

Brook scoffed to hide her embarrassment, pulling her hood back into place as she replied,
"Wouldn't be good to have my personal guide get run over, right?"

Her classmate smiled nonetheless, "Right, but thanks anyways!"

After their little hiccup, Peter continued to point out landscapes as they walked, even making
sure she caught sight of some food trucks and stands that sold particularly good street food
for late-night snacks. Since Brook never had enough money for grocery shopping, she often
turned to the street vendors for food. She was just glad to know some places to visit now for
her main fuel source.

"You seem to know Queens well" she commented at some point during their walk, earning a
shrug from her companion. He stared up at the various skyscrapers around them, letting the
sound of car horns and distant talking fill the short silence.

"I've lived here all my life," he said, "Plus my aunt likes to go out to eat during the week so
we can talk about our days. She likes to explore new places every now and then"

That was the third time during their walk he'd mentioned an aunt, and Brook had enough
parental problems that she didn't dare ask about the rest of his unmentioned family. Not that
she cared or anything. It was just a peculiar observation.

"Well, this place doesn't seem so bad," Brook pointed out, watching as families and workers
walked by with smiles on their faces and destinations in mind. Clusters of chipper birds made
their way around street poles, happily diving towards benches where the elderly already sat
with seeds for them. The sound of trees swaying with the winds, distant business bells
ringing...all of it was a peace she'd never bothered to acknowledge or long for.
Not until now, with a boy who looked at everything with reverence and pride. As if his
childhood home was not just a safe haven, but something he was proud to be a part of.

As the pair made their way, she'd also noticed the extensive graffiti on almost every bricked
surface available. Some of it contained rather inappropriate phrases to have out in public,
while others were more creative works of art. Art had never been something she’d found
interesting, but even she could admit it brightened up what could’ve been dull streets. Much
to her annoyance, there seemed to be an abundance of Avengers-related stuff, yet most
depicted the spiderling that made Brook's blood boil.

They worshiped him here by the looks of it.

She'd even seen a few passing kids with little Spider-man toys and shirts. Peter had noticed
them too, but instead of scowling like her, he'd beamed. He must have been a fan of the hero
like everyone else here.

Of course, this was the place her otets selected for her. A cruel joke no doubt.

Eventually, after they made it around the seven blocks away from school, Peter was busy
telling her about some theater nearby when another series of shouts of her name became
clear. Brooklyn feared someone had finally recognized her, even with the hood on, but
everyone around her was looking for the mentioned Stark in confusion.

Turning around, Brook was shocked to see Flash's friends weaving through the crowds
quickly towards them, green Midtown letterman jackets clear as day. Their faces held a
determination and anger as visible as their clenched fists, no doubt aggression towards her.

"They must be mad about what happened today. Flash really doesn't like to be humiliated"
Peter whispered, clutching the books in hand just a little tighter. He was worried, scared even.

The ex-assassin, on the other hand, couldn't be more pleased. They came back for a rematch
after all, and now that she wasn't in school, maybe Brooklyn could leave them a little more
bruised, knock them down a few more pegs without fear of wandering eyes from teachers.

Brook was getting ready to fight, already plotting every move she'd make...when she felt a
hand around her wrist, just above the place where her watch lay peacefully.

The hold was not bruising, it was gentle.

"Let's go, quickly!" Peter said, already pulling her forward with wide eyes at the approaching
bullies.

"I can take them! I won't go easy this time" she yelled back, but Peter didn't let go of his
unfaltering grip.

"They're not worth it, you'll still just get into more trouble" he replied pleadingly as they
weaved through the confused crowds.

It was the promise of more trouble that finally caused Brook to relent, letting herself be
dragged as the pair ran past the heavy crowds. Peter led them through the masses, across the
busy car-filled streets, and when they began hearing frustrated shouts in the distance, Brook
couldn't help but laugh as she ran. There was something about those guys even being unable
to catch up to them to enact their vengeance that just made this situation all the better.

Even when her hood fell back, and her backpack began to sway wildly…her amusement
didn’t fade, Brook even took the time to smirk back at the guys as they ran around traffic
uselessly.

Her classmate too began to chuckle by her side, not at all slowed down by the heavy contents
of his backpack and their books, which were still clutched in his other hand. It was with
surprising shared laughter that they weaved through the puzzled crowds and cars in motion
until Peter stopped them in front of a barber shop with a fading sign.

With slightly heaving breaths, Both looked back to see they had successfully lost the guys.

"Fighting them would have been easy, but that was kinda fun," Brook admitted, trying to fix
her winded hair as best she could. Peter chuckled too, shaking his brown hair back into shape
as he finally let go of her wrist.

"I can't believe they followed us out of school," Parker muttered with the closest thing to
annoyance she’d heard from him, which ended up sounding more like a pleading whine.

To her surprise, Peter then gently nudged her forward while pointing to a store in the middle
of an intersection. The sign read, Delmar's Deli & Meats.

It was the place Peter mentioned at school.

"You still guided us here? How?" she asked, truly astonished he'd been able to weave through
blocks and streets while still keeping a sense of their destination.

Her new classmate nodded confidently, puffing out his chest slightly in pride as he admitted,
"I told you I knew the city well"

Still riding the adrenaline from their run, the teens made it inside the store with no further
trouble as a little copper bell signaled their arrival.

When the gray-haired man behind the counter caught sight of Peter, he beamed.

"Peter! Here for the usual?" the worker asked as he leaned on the counter.

"Sup, Mr. Delmar!" Peter greeted happily, turning sideways to face the owner of the store.

The man did not respond as enthusiastically, in fact, he cursed, "Kid what happened to your
eye?"

Peter laughed nervously, answering something along the lines of hitting himself with a book
by accident as he grabbed two bags of gummy bears from a stand by the door.

While they neared the counter, Brook took a quick scan of the place, noting the layout of a
small convenience store with the scrutinizing eye of a trained spy. While the place behind the
counter had more of a deli vibe, overall, the place looked relatively new in comparison to the
buildings she'd seen around it, as if it had been remodeled recently.

Above the counter space were a few signs with labeled sandwiches which Peter had spoken
about on their way there. So many choices...

"You better put some ice on that when you get home, kid" Mr. Delmar suggested, then paused
his lecture when noticed Brook nearing the counter by Peter's side.

The man looked surprised, to say the least, but it was not for the reason Brooklyn had been
expecting. Not because of her last name. Mr. Delmar then turned to Peter as asked in perfect
Spanish, "Es tu novia? Es muy bonita"

Is she your girlfriend? She's really pretty.

Seriously?

Her classmate quickly turned Brooklyn's way, cheeks flushed an impossibly bright shade,
once soft eyes now wild and panicked. Peter set down his hands on the counter, stuttering a
string of inaudible words that almost made her laugh for some reason.

Instead of getting angry, Brook smiled at Mr. Delmar and replied confidently, "No, somos de
la misma escuela. Me llamo Brooklyn" then extended a hand out to the man. A small
kindness for Peter’s sake, or so she told herself.

Now that the misunderstanding was cleared up and the man knew they were merely
classmates, the owner actually almost tumbled back with laughter.

He accepted her hand, and replied, "Now that makes more sense, Peter here has his head in
those books too much to get a girl. For a second I thought he’d finally listened to me and
decided to get out there and find a nice girl to keep him company"

Peter looked flustered once again, begging the man to drop the conversation.

"Fine, I was just teasing you kids. Number five, with pickles, squished down real flat, right?"
Delmar asked. When Peter nodded, the order was shouted somewhere behind the counter.

"What about you, City of Brooklyn?" the man asked.

Unsure what to get or how to comment on the joke, she asked for the same thing as Peter.
When Brook saw the boy pulling out bills from his backpack, she quickly reached for her
wrinkled 17 dollars left from lunch and set them on the counter.

Well, it wasn’t her money. It was Stark’s lunch money.

"Brooklyn, I can pay. Seriously" Peter whined, but she gave him a stern look that finally
paused his search. Probably the only veiled window she’d let him see of her true self, the true
viciousness dormant within.
"I said I would pay, it's not that big a deal" she countered while Delmar took the money with
a chuckle, ringing up the cashier and handing over five dollars in change which she stuffed
into the tips jar. As someone who'd worked as a waitress and barista, she knew how much
tips meant to a person.

It wasn't a kindness, but rather a debt owed in honor of a man who’d given a scrawny girl a
job that earned her years of independent freedom.

Mr. Delmar thanked her regardless of her silent motives, and Peter just clutched his green
sweater in frustration, muttering something about how a gentleman always pays.

She smirked at that. This boy was amusing, his mind so unlike her own. Peter Parker was like
a puzzle, but also something fragile and gentle that her mind thought needed to be protected.
Perhaps it was because he was one of the few kids her age that bothered to show Brook an
ounce of kindness, expecting nothing in return, but she still felt the need to keep the boy safe,
against her better judgment.

Not that he would ever know that of course. To him, she must be nothing more than a girl
with too much money and a new social reputation. Both aspects he seemed to care little
about, but Peter would never know he stood before an ex-assassin of the Red Room. If he
did...she would not be here now getting questioned by the owner of the establishment.

Mr. Delmar came back to talk to them soon enough, leaning back on a chair as he said, "Glad
I finally get to meet one of Peter's friends. I thought this kid was a loner"

Brook considered arguing that she was no one's friend, but the man seemed happy enough at
the concept that Brook dropped it. Another slip-up on her part, being worried about others'
worries.

"Don't worry sir, he does have people around him at school" Brooklyn said in all honesty,
successfully easing something in the man's mind. It seemed Brook wasn't the only one who
worried about Peter then...

In a moment of slight panic, Brooklyn sensed movement, and the first thought in her mind
was that Mr. Delmar was pulling out a gun toward her. But before she could think to push
Peter back or tackle the man, a light-furred cat suddenly leaped into the counter, lazily
walking over to their side.

Not a gun....just a cat.

Peter, seemingly unaware of her mental misunderstanding that could’ve been fatal for
someone, inched closer to scratch the cat fondly behind the ears, "Hey Murph, how are you
doing?"

The cat meowed in response, arching its back towards Brooklyn, who reluctantly followed in
Peter's footsteps and petted the furry thing. She'd grown used to cats since her old boss
adopted one from the streets, but she'd always held some resentment towards the creatures.
In the times before she had a job or a flat, Brooklyn had fought against many street cats for
food. They hadn’t been her greatest worries, that had been street dogs, hence why she had a
greater hate and distrust for them. In her deranged mind, animals would always be selfish and
untrustworthy.

Such dark memories were pushed away while they waited for their sandwiches, munching on
the packs of gummies they bought, and continuing their conversation with the man behind
the counter.

He'd casually asked them about school, which was when Peter explained that Brooklyn was a
new student. Just when Mr. Delmar asked her where she'd come from, the TV beside them,
an old and box-like thing propped on the wall, turned to the local news. The volume was
relatively low, but when the photo of Brook, Pepper, and Tony popped up with her name as
the headline...Delmar quickly scanned her form again.

"You're the Stark girl?" he asked, pointing to the TV where the photo of her at the mall was
clear as day.

Though her mind still fought the instinct to correct the man on her last name, Brooklyn
nodded for the hundredth time that day, waiting for him to freak out over something as little
as being a Stark. Instead, like her new Decathlon teammates and Tanya, the man smiled
kindly.

"Stick by this guy and you'll do fine in that school," he said, "I have a daughter that switched
schools once in the middle of the year, she had it rough for a while. Be glad you have a good
kid like Peter as a friend"

Brooklyn appreciated the mellow reaction and subconsciously shoved the man's advice to the
back of her mind. Promising to stick by someone like Peter Parker was a scary thought, an
unlikely outcome she could commit to. That would require trust, something Brook was barely
working on expanding beyond her person.

Instead of responding, the girl smiled and shoved a few of the sweet treats into her mouth,
relishing in the taste of goodies she'd lacked all her life.

Thankfully, Peter pleaded for the man to stop embarrassing him and Mr. Delmar must have
taken pity on him, because he swayed the conversation towards the subject of Peter's aunt,
asking how she was doing.

Despite her efforts to seem disinterested, the spy in her noted how the man did not inquire
about Peter's parents.

Not long after, when their sandwiches were set on the counter, wrapped in foil and warm to
the touch, they waved goodbye to Mr. Delmar as Peter promised to see him again tomorrow.

Brook realized she liked this place, and would likely come back too. But getting attached to
things or places was never a good thing, she'd made that mistake back in Brooklyn before.
But something about knowing she had a place to go to, a safe place to return to where no
immediate judgment awaited her...maybe she should stop overthinking and eat her food.
The teens continued to walk east of the shop, crossing the street, then diving into their food at
last. Brooklyn tried and failed to suppress the satisfied sigh after the first bite of her
sandwich.

Ok, attachment or not, Brook was definitely returning to Delmar's.

Even when she hadn't said a thing, Peter seemed happier as he bit into his own food, that
smile widening when her own food was finished in record time.

They spent the time between bites looking around, with Peter pointing out a few places he
favored for fun, like the arcade he and Ned often frequented after final exams. All the while,
Brook had been paying attention to building numbers and streets, trying to find the location
of her new home while still learning about her surroundings.

Near the subway station was a gated block of large red-bricked apartment buildings. One of
the few places with such elements of security that must be considered a luxury. Sure enough,
the number and street matched the crumpled piece of paper in her pocket she'd memorized
during school.

The area around the place was clearly better than her previous home. This one was lively,
only blocks away from a beautiful park, and steps away from a grocery store and
inconspicuous post office. The streets were cleaner than most, and there seemed to be quite
an abundance of young kids freely playing outside whom she caught sight of beyond the
gate’s bars.

To further its charm, some small trees had been planted around the area, thriving thanks to
the recurring rains. Further greens could be spotted and the top of the apartment buildings,
which appeared to have some sort of gardens or greenhouses that brought them to life.

It was beautiful, far better than what she'd expected Stark to shove her into.

For a few seconds, the girl considered ignoring the promise of a new home just to spend a
little more time in the calming presence of Peter Parker. There was something about the
promise of a new apartment that just made this whole situation feel more real, which the girl
found slightly uncomfortable.

But Brook eventually decided she should stop stalling and go up to see what she was given at
last. There was just no avoiding the call of her new reality, and she wasn’t willing to be a
coward about it either.

Turning to see Peter still rambling about a sweets shop on the other side of the street, she
gently nudged him.

"I guess I owe you for showing me around, but I should really get home before the sun sets,"
Brooklyn said, realizing, to her horror, that she was being sincere about wanting to stay
longer.

Thankfully, the boy agreed, "I should get home too, I have a lot of homework to finish. But
thanks for paying for the sandwiches, by the way, you really didn't have to"
Brook played around with the lone wrapper in hand, "They were worth every penny, Parker"

Not really sure how to part properly, Brook opted for a pathetic wave before grabbing her
books out of his hand, then turning towards the apartment complex entrance further ahead,
eyeing the code on the paper for the main gate instead of watching his retreating form.

It didn't take long to notice something amiss, to hear steps behind her.

When she made it to the gate, the ex-assassin turned to find Peter was actually the one
walking towards her. Did he not understand she was leaving? Or was he trying to kill her at
last? The street was relatively empty after all, the kids beyond the gate too far to see or hear a
thing while lost in play.

Instead of coming to conclusions like back at Delmar's, she opted to ask, "Parker, aren't you
going back home?"

Peter looked at her quizzically, pointing at the gargantuan gate beside her.

"This is me. Aren't you going home?" asked Peter, clutching his books against his chest
nervously.

Well, shit.

"This is me as well, building eight" Brook said, showing Peter the paper her otets had given
her.

Her classmate examined it curiously, then after a few seconds of muttering she couldn't make
out, he merely proceeded to unlock the gate with his eyes quickly tipping away on his phone.

When he noticed Brook hadn't joined him inside, Peter looked back with a sheepish smile
while holding the door, gently nudging her forward.

"Well, since we're both going to the same place, I can walk you," he said, setting Brook into
motion while she watched as the gate closed behind them with a click.

The same place…he lived in her apartment complex!?

Brooklyn was left with no choice but to follow him through the cluster of buildings despite
her slight shock. The girl let Peter guide her along the small pathways surrounded by green
grass, occupied by small children playing around, and owners of varying ages walking their
pets.

It almost felt like a reprieve from the chaos of the city, a reclusive suburban block of sorts.

Eventually, a red-bricked building with a large metal eight above its iron doors appeared
down the cobblestone path. It was probably nine floors high, and all the windows visible to
her seemed friendly enough with their potted plants and drying clothes.

Unfazed by it all, Peter fished out a key from his pants despite the present code box, and
unlocked the gate that led to a decent-sized lobby with a small waiting area, sets of
mailboxes, and winding stairs at the end of the hall. Someone had bothered to hang up some
cheap paintings, and the few potted plants around were kept green and flourishing.

Even the rug leading to the stairs was clean.

Pushing aside her mixed emotions, Brooklyn thought Peter might live on another floor and
would eventually leave her side, but he confidently strode up the steps towards the fifth,
unlocking the door with a different code.

Stark hadn't been wrong about the security of this place. There was a code for the main gate,
which had four visible cameras that Brook had caught. Then there was a key code access into
the building itself, a coded door for a specific floor, plus another code access for the
apartment itself.

Not bad.

"I moved here a year ago," Peter said over his shoulder, his voice echoing along the stairwell
while he typed away, "I actually used to live downtown"

Downtown Queens was not the nicest place if memory served, much like downtown
Brooklyn had been nothing short of a dump. A dump she’d lived in for too many years.

"Lucky me that you live here now, I guess" Brook replied, eyeing the cameras on the stair
landings with appreciation. This place had security levels even she could appreciate. It must
cost a fortune to live here.

When the door to her floor was unlocked, Brooklyn was greeted with a calm hallway neatly
painted with delicate and muted brown walls. Each light-blue door they passed had a golden
number at its center, all of them increasing as they went down the hall.

52…53…54…

Peter stopped walking right in front of door 54, smiling as he motioned to it.

"I live here," he said, laughing when they both heard faint music on the other side of the door
along with high-pitched singing.

Brooklyn looked further down the hall, two doors down to be exact towards door number 56.
It was the only door with no welcome mat. It likely would remain that way.

"I'm on 56," she said, "I guess now I have to call you lab partner and neighbor"

Peter didn't seem to find anything wrong with either title, if anything, his now familiar smile
grew.

During that awkward silence that followed was when the door beside him opened, and a
woman with round glasses, long brown hair, and high-waisted pants paired with a very nice
white tank top opened the door with a spatula in hand.
"Why are you lingering outside the door, Pete? I heard voices" she said, waving her hands
around to vent out the smoke coming from the inside of the apartment, "I could hear you but
you wouldn't come in and the food was burning..."

The metal spatula dropped on the ground, and Brooklyn prepared herself for yet another
'You're Brooklyn Stark' moment.

The woman, likely Peter's loved aunt, actually squealed when their gazes met.

"Oh, Peter! You brought a girl home! An actual girl! My goodness she is absolutely
gorgeous, why didn't you tell me!?" the woman screamed, proceeding to hit Peter's arm, "You
could've given me time to get dressed, or to go get some pizzas!"

Peter's aunt moved away from the door and ignoring Peter’s burning face and
neck...embraced Brooklyn in a tight hug.

Since the woman was much taller than Brook, she had to lean down a bit to say, "You have
no idea how happy this makes me! You also look kinda familiar. Are you from the school
band, or the Decathlon team perhaps?"

"May!" Peter screeched, moving quickly to pry his aunt away from Brook's still body.

That's when the woman noticed Peter's black eye with a frown, quickly going from fussing
over Brook to Peter in seconds.

"What happened this time?" she asked, poking the darkening skin and scanning the rest of his
face with careful scrutiny.

"Someone accidentally threw a football and it landed on my face" the boy confessed, eyeing
Brook with pleading eyes to back up the prompted lie.

This woman was smart, and looked like she didn't buy a word Peter said, so she turned
towards Brook for an explanation. Somehow, Brooklyn was suddenly faced with the choice
to betray her new classmate before an adult figure, or help him, a kind of loyalty she wasn't
sure if she had in her or not.

"Peter and I met when the 'ball' hit his face. Don't worry ma'am, I showed 'it' who's boss and
deflated it a bit" Brooklyn replied, earning a chuckle from both of her neighbors. A relieved
sigh from Peter despite the hidden revelation of the true events of the day, events which
Brook wagered the woman wouldn't have believed had she lied.

This way at least, she had hoped to lessen the blow of the reality of Peter's misfortune.

"Oh, you're too sweet!" May replied happily. Peter then threw his backpack and books inside
the apartment, placing an arm around his aunt's shoulders, as if to hold her back from another
impending hug Brook’s way.

"She just moved two doors down, May. Today was her first day at Midtown" he explained.

The woman pushed up her glasses and looked down the hall toward Brooklyn's apartment.
"Oh, that's great! No wonder I heard so much shuffling around yesterday, I thought someone
was fixing something down the hall. Wanna get your folks and join us for dinner? I'd love to
get to know our new neighbors!" May offered without an ounce of hesitation.

A kindness she wagered Peter had inherited.

"Actually it's just me, ma'am" Brook replied, watching as May's face twisted in confusion.

"May, this is Brooklyn Stark" Peter explained, and suddenly it seemed like gears clicked
inside May's head, looking at her nephew with wide eyes. They seemed to have some sort of
mental conversation, for which Peter shook his head in the end.

Must be a skill families possessed.

May turned back towards Brook, smiling as she clutched their hands together, "No wonder I
recognized you, Oprah has been talking about you nonstop. In any case, you should definitely
come eat with us! I'm making casserole, but if that doesn't turn out we might just order pizza"

Brook wanted to refuse, to spend her night alone as she usually would. But this woman had
the same aura as Pepper, only slightly kinder. A commanding presence fueled by goodwill.

Peter, somehow sensing her inner battle, intervened.

"It will be better than eating alone on your first night here. I have a feeling this is my aunt's
way of thanking you for the...ball deflating from today"

His aunt bolted into a straighter position, pushing the boy inside, "Speaking of which, put
some ice on that! I don't care if you think you're tough, there better be ice on that eye when I
go back inside!"

Peter barely had time to wave goodbye before he was pushed further inside the seemingly
cozy home.

The woman took one last look at Brooklyn and said, "Dinner is at 7, why don't you go get
settled in your home, do some homework. Don't feel any pressure to show up, but we'll
definitely leave a seat at the table ready for you"

Brook smiled as genuinely as she could, feeling nothing but pity for the woman who had no
clue she'd just invited an assassin into her home.

Yet despite all common sense, her better judgment, and lack of trust, Brooklyn found herself
replying, "I'll be here on time"

May surprisingly beamed, "If you ever need anything, not just today, you come to me, ok? If
there is anything Peter or I can do for you, no matter how small, let us know. Maybe you two
can talk about walking together to school from now on. It would be much safer!"

Brooklyn actually laughed at that, as if she could ever be in danger here. Still, she nodded
towards the woman one more time, and once door 54 closed, she quickly scrambled down the
hall towards her own code…and entered the darkness of apartment 56.
Into her new home. For now.
 They Said It Would Help...
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Pepper POV-

Putting out the fires of the press was laborious work, more so than Pepper had originally
anticipated. It hadn't been this difficult to deal with since Tony had carelessly announced
himself as Iron Man, though.

It didn't cease to amaze her that once again, she was working to defend a Stark. The thought
of which made Pepper smile as she sorted through mail requesting private interviews,
magazine photo shoots, and even extensive offers for Brooklyn to go visit well-known
companies in an effort to establish future projects with Stark Industries.

After a long day of sorting through everything and anything she couldn't have possibly
imagined, the woman finally saw the glamor of her home through the car window. The
Compound hadn’t been a place she’d lived in for very long prior to her breakup with Tony,
but it had been a tucked-away safe haven the two of them had designed together. It was the
place Tony was…and after so long apart, Pepper was more sure than ever that wherever he
was, her home would be.

Even with Happy at the wheel rambling about people he’d found suspicious at work (which
was mostly everyone he’d beheld walking into Stark Industries), she beheld it all with
relative silence, unable to shake the excitement of being back after a long day.

A feeling reminiscent of the past few years she’d missed more than she could express.

Pulling up into the Avengers Compound under the moonlight, Pepper quickly entered its
warm halls after Happy mentioned something about taking the car to the massive
underground parking space that housed all of Tony’s car collection. The envy of most agents
here.

Inside, the woman was greeted by the friendly receptionists before scrambling as quickly as
she could toward the private floors.

The halls were still busy, buzzing with work with all this alien-weapons business going on.
After not being in the compound for a long time, Pepper actually smiled at the buzz. Not that
she was pleased Tony and the others were once again planning to put their lives on the line,
but she'd grown to accept that was their nature.

It was inspiring at times.

As soon as Pepper made it inside the waiting elevator, she noticed Bruce inside, looking tired
but relatively calm and as always, with his face buried in documents. When he noticed her
presence, the doctor welcomed her back with the same friendly courtesy from the past few
years. He quickly mentioned something about going back to the living room for some coffee,
likely going back up to his lab afterward for a late night of work, something that didn't
surprise her at all.

No one could match Tony when it came to pouring one's heart and soul into a project even if
it meant staying up for days on end, but Bruce Banner was the closest contender for second
place.

"If you're looking for Tony, he's up in his lab," Bruce said sleepily, pushing the button so they
could make it a floor up from the main Avengers floor, right to the lab. He didn't seem to be
in a hurry, so Pepper thanked him for the kindness as she set down her purse filled with files
she’d likely sort through tomorrow morning.

Over the years, Pepper had learned that Bruce wasn't much of a talker, especially late in the
day, so Pepper didn't intrude and instead continued to ponder on the thoughts of the day.

The sight of Bruce had reminded her more of the time she spent away from Tony, mostly
because the doctor had been away as well. Where exactly, he’d never disclosed, but she’d
tried keeping a distance from the Avengers until recently, and yet they were both back here
where they belonged.

Pepper hadn't been present to deal with the Sokovia Accords a year ago, even when she'd
wanted nothing more than to return to help Tony at the time. Both out of instinct and because
of her love for him. He was infuriating, and their last fight was not the greatest, but seeing
him hurt on TV always broke her heart, battling inner demons all on his own because that's
all he knew to do. Like now, when she finally made it to his private lab and saw him asleep
among a table full of scattered books.

Even in sleep, Tony seemed restless, mumbling as he often did when work chased him even
in his dreams.

What could he be stressing about so much?

In an effort to avoid moments like these, Pepper had decided to take care of Stark Industries
while Tony worked on this weapons situation and dealt with the arrival of Brooklyn for the
next few weeks. She found that he often worked best on Avengers matters when his company
wasn't weighing him down, a responsibility he’d had to shoulder since his youth without
wanting to. A burden of his last name.

Thankfully, Tony hadn't fought her decision and thanked her immensely for the help.

If her first day back had taught her anything, it had been a lot more help than she'd been
expecting...

Pepper was exhausted from taking calls all day, mostly answering family questions rather
than discussing office business. But at least she'd managed to get that deal approved with
Oscorp Industries. That should help Tony with this particular world-ending problem at least.
With a soft smile, Pepper took off her tiresome black heels, turned off the blasting music
across the lab, and began gathering the opened books with the help of one of Tony's robots.
Unfortunately, 'Dummy 2.0' as Tony liked to call it, was true to its name and dropped quite a
large stack of them onto the marble ground.

The sound was loud enough to startle Tony awake with a panic.

Used to this behavior by now, Pepper knew to approach him slowly, voice slightly more at
ease and arms far away from his body while he gathered his surroundings. Not knowing
which demon plagued him today, Pepper decided to pause her clean-up work in favor of
shooting a smile his way.

"It's me, Tony" she whispered, watching as his wide-blown panicked eyes slowly stopped
searching the lab for threats and relaxed when they met hers.

She slowly walked up to him, leaving her heels on the floor before embracing her fiancé. It
was like he instantly melted into her arms, and the sounds of his tired sighs made Pepper's
heart sink as she clutched him closer for a few minutes.

This was one of the many side-effects of the never-ending work he did to keep the world safe,
a reason why she’d pleaded with him tirelessly to leave the Iron Man suits behind. It wasn’t
just the wounds, scars, and battles that worried her…but everything that came after that
Pepper had always feared would hurt him the most.

Of course, after much time apart, she’d reflected on her choices, and she was not ashamed to
say that despite being correct…perhaps she’d been wrong in the end.

Placing his face between her hands, Pepper gently lifted it to look up at her.

"What are you doing here so late? Shouldn't you be in bed?" she asked, "When I left in the
afternoon you said you'd call it a day and go to bed early"

With a pout, Tony leaned back in his chair, taking her hands in his own as he sat her
comfortably atop him. His warmth was like a blanket of safety, not just from physical
dangers, but from the mental strains the two had taken to speak of during late nights gazing
out at the moonlight.

"I was trying to...the...it was nothing really," Tony mumbled, gazing at the table before them
in exhaustion.

Pepper smiled, running a hand through his brown locks in the dim light of the lab, "Did
Brooklyn call? How was the rest of her day?"

Tony suddenly stiffened, reaching for his suit pocket and letting the transparent screen of his
phone come to life. His phone background was still the photo of them in front of the Eiffel
Tower from their trip five years ago, a day when Tony had deemed it necessary to rent out the
entire place to themselves.
It had been a lovely night full of wonderful memories, but that's not what snagged her
attention at the moment.

There were no notifications from Brooklyn.

Angrily, Tony whispered, "I told her to call me when she got home, but clearly she still
doesn't want to talk to me” a tired sigh, “I'll have to ask underoos to go check up on her"

"I still can't believe you moved her to Peter's apartment complex" Pepper complained,
thinking of the poor boy, undoubtedly forced to work as a spy on top of all the things he, as a
teen, already had to do. Knowing Peter he’d do so gladly and happily, but she worried about
him from time to time, especially when it came to his Spider-man duties.

Tony threw his phone atop the cluttered desk and wrapped his arms around her waist with a
pout that was far too juvenile for his age, but always succeeded in her answering his pleas.

"It's a safe place, highest safety ratings in the area! Do you know how hard it is to find a
secure home in Queens? It took me forever to convince Pete to move there last year"

She chuckled, always happy to hear how protective Tony was of that boy even if he often
didn’t outright say it. In many ways, Peter might have been the most useful child-caring
experience Tony had under his belt. Sometimes, Pepper couldn't help but beam when she saw
Tony giving the kid simple advice (no matter how stupid it was).

It was the closest to fatherly behavior she'd seen from the billionaire, which she hoped would
transfer over to Brooklyn once they got along better.

"I can't believe Brooklyn saved Peter today. What are the odds of them meeting at school
before classes even began?" Pepper asked with a grin, referring to the call from the teen this
morning, right when the woman had been getting ready to leave for work, "I had no clue kids
were messing with Peter. Poor boy, he can't do anything to defend himself with those powers
of his"

Tony's frown deepened, "I wouldn't bat an eye if he decided to let a punch in every now and
then. He’s got control over his strength now, if he’s careful he can play off the instincts as
pure luck"

Pepper sighed against the crook of Tony’s shoulder, remembering the young teen who always
had his head buried in books, who never spent a day without praising someone, one that had
chosen to keep a secret identity not just to have the chance at a normal life…but perhaps
because he didn’t want his powers to be all he was.

Though goofy at times, he was incredibly mature for his age.

"Maybe. But Peter knows he shouldn't abuse his powers for petty things. He's a good kid…"
she replied, letting her fingers sink into her fiancé's hair which was in desperate need of a
trim. Tony clutched Pepper closer until she leaned back against his chest, taking in the scent
of the lab he always seemed to carry around. She clung to it happily after months of being
apart.
"Yeah, I guess he's doing alright. At least Brooklyn is sensible enough to protect him for now,
especially when Nat said that behavior was unusual for…their kind. Is this one of those
moments when I'm supposed to reward my daughter or yell at her?"

When Pepper shook her head, ready to argue both points until she caught sight of the book
titles on his desk behind her. The ones he'd stayed up reading so thoroughly.

Parenting: Illustrated with Crappy Pictures.

Daddy Needs a Drink: An Irreverent Look at Parenting From a Dad Who Truly Loves His
Kids--Even When They're Driving Him Nuts.

Man Vs Child. One Dad's Guide to the Weirdness of Parenting.

Pepper couldn't help but laugh, leaning away from his desperate touch to inspect the volumes
on the desk despite Tony's panic.

"Don't look at those!" Tony whined, "It's nothing important, just something to keep my mind
focused"

"Yeah right," Pepper replied, pausing her browsing when one particular book caught her
interest, and further melted her heart.

Russian for Dummies.

"You're learning Russian?" Pepper whispered in awe, flipping through the book while Tony
tried to snatch it away. It already had sticky notes all over it, and Pepper even caught sight of
a stack of papers on the desk with repetitions of phrases in a language she couldn't
understand.

Repetition after repetition.

Even when he had villains to catch, which normally took up all his attention and focus…
Tony Stark had pushed that aside to do this. Learn a foreign language, which was not
normally one of his preferred distractions. He’d been so diligent about it, she could tell.

He was already putting his daughter first, pouring in the long hours to try and gain
knowledge to step into these shoes he’d found himself in. That's why her voice momentarily
failed her as she browsed through the hundreds of annotated pages, specific sentences
highlighted with notes about instances in which she could say them to Brooklyn.

Most of the work highlighted included translations for praise and congratulations, no doubt in
preparation for the teen’s upcoming SHIELD trials. It made Pepper’s eyes water, her heart
feeling so full she thought it might burst…because she knew Tony’s own father had never
bothered with such kind words. Tony remembered and wanted to be a different kind of
parental figure, a better one.

Of course Tony wouldn't admit to the adorableness of his actions, wouldn't dare state it as a
selfless action done for his daughter.
"Nat and Brooklyn love to revert back to Russian too much. I feel like they're talking crap
about me, so of course, I'm learning a few things. That way, not only will I know what they
say behind my back, but I'll be able to defend myself, " Tony said, still fighting to take the
book out of her hold.

Pepper finally set the book down on the table and was unable to stop herself from giving him
a quick peck on the lips. Caressing his jaw, Pepper whispered, "I think you're doing it
because you care for Brooklyn, which is fine by the way. It's natural to want to learn
something about her, even if it's her mother tongue. I'm sure Brooklyn won't say it now, but
she might even appreciate it someday."

He frowned, staring at the pile of books and notes disturbing the otherwise organized desk.
Now even his keyboard space was buried deep within books. Only Tony's prized Freddie
Mercury bobblehead remained peaking over the scattered volumes.

"You know, learning parenting from books is sweet, but I don't think they will guarantee
success. This isn't like a science problem you can solve with books like a dedicated college
student" Pepper added with a hint of amusement, "You're basically dealing with a teenage
Nat"

Her fiancé just stared up at the ceiling in defeat, "I know that. But this is how I usually deal
with things, with knowledge and research. Plus Clint said it would be a good idea. So far one
of these books tried to convince me to switch out my sports cars for a mom van. I'm starting
to think that Clint might have it out for me"

"Brooklyn's not a toddler, you'll be fine keeping the cars" she mocked, placing a gentle kiss
on his cheek. Her poor attempt at trying to let him know how proud she was of him, and how
much it warmed her heart to see him like this when she’d feared he’d be more reluctant to
take such steps.

Tony's frown returned, "That's what I'm talking about! There is no book out there on how to
raise teenage assassins, but this is the best I have"

Pepper knew from experience that taking care of another human being wasn't always
something that could be learned or taught. It just took time and patience.

But it still broke her heart to see him so tired and discouraged, unwilling to see how he was
already putting in more effort than most parents who might’ve just given up in a peculiar
situation like this.

"Brooklyn is coming by tomorrow for training, you'll get to see her again. Why don't we
invite her for dinner? Just you, me, and Brooklyn. The more you learn about her, the easier
she might be to understand, don't you think?"

In a heartbeat, Tony argued, "Brooklyn won't want to, she's stubborn. Just because we HAD
to spend time together at the mall doesn't mean she'll sit through a meal alone with me. She'll
never spend time with anyone willingly, I think. How can I blame her though? I always
refused to eat with my dad when I was younger, only fair my daughter does the same with
me, right?"
Pepper had never met Howard Stark, but she knew how much the subject of his father
weighed on Tony. In some ways, she'd grown to resent the man that made the love of her life
so closed off in many ways. But other times, she couldn't help but thank him for bringing
Tony into the world.

When Nat had texted Pepper about the happenings with Captain Rogers and the Winter
Soldier, she almost took a flight back to the compound that day to soothe Tony from the truth
of finding his parent's death was a planned murder, one his best friend had tried to cover up.

Despite saying all this stuff about his father now, Pepper knew how much it hurt Tony to this
day. After recent events, no wonder he was thinking of Howard so much when it came to
parenting. Additional pressure Tony had imposed on himself.

"I don't think your dad stayed up all night reading parenting books, much less taking the time
to learn a foreign language for his child" Pepper pointed out, then sweetly kissed her troubled
man, effectively chasing away the stiffness of his body.

The kiss tasted like home.

Turning back to the table, Pepper beheld said books with a beaming heart.

The woman added, "Besides, you need to remember what Nat said at breakfast. People like
Brooklyn may be closed off and distant at first by instinct, but once they find people they
trust and like, then they will love and fight for them fiercely and unconditionally. The Red
Room was a lot of bad things, but it did teach the concept of loyalty above all else"

Tony relaxed, leaning down to place his lips atop her head while he unwound the tight
ponytail she bore. Now with her ginger hair cascading down in waves, she too relaxed
against him, content to just destress for a moment.

“Let's hope that's the case, otherwise I’ll need a library of parenting books just to get through
life from now on” he muttered, but was stopped from further comments by a beeping from
the desk.

"Mr. Stark," FRIDAY said across the room, earning a tired groan from both adults, "You have
a few new unread messages from Mr.Parker. Would you like me to display them on your desk
monitor?"

Curious as to why Peter would text Tony at 8 pm on a school night, especially since she knew
he had patrols later tonight, Pepper asked FRIDAY to go ahead and show them. The blue
light of the screens bathed the couple in color, and both she and Tony began reading the
messages on the screen.

I'm soooo sry I haven't reported back to u Mr. Stark. I was doing my homework!

Please don't kill me for getting ur daughter in trouble sir! I didn't even notice she was
already at school at the time, and when I did, I couldn't stop her because I thought she
wouldn't care about stopping…my classmate. But Brooklyn didn't hurt anyone badly, I
promise!
I went to the office after school to try and take the punishment for myself but the office said
that was already settled and I had to go to Decathlon practice or MJ would kill me for being
late!

Pepper laughed, snuggling closer to Tony's body to the point where she could feel the
reverberating of his own laugh against her ear.

"Sometimes I wonder if his generation can even write proper English...what he's gonna get in
trouble for is not the detention but rather for not telling me kids were messing with him!"
Tony ground out in frustration.

"Would you like me to text that back to the contact name 'Underoos'?" FRIDAY inquired.

Before Tony could pick a fight with the poor kid, Pepper gave him 'the look', which
thankfully had him settling back into the plush chair with a defeated sigh.

"Fine, just text back that it wasn't his fault. Ask him if he's seen Brooklyn since then too"

Both smiled as the words were typed on the computer, and the message was sent in seconds.
It was then that the machines around the room began to clean up for the night, and Pepper
smiled at the familiar sounds of beeping and wheels shuffling across the room.

How she'd missed this. Missed Tony.

Before she could relax back into her fiancé's arms, new messages popped up on the screen, a
typing speed only achievable by the young teen.

Um, about that. We kinda ate lunch together with my friends and spent P.E together too. Then
she became my other lab partner in Chem! Oh, we have Spanish together too, her Spanish is
as good as yours Mr. Stark!

"She speaks Spanish?" Pepper asked. Whenever it came down to anything about Brooklyn,
the woman was equally as lost as Tony, only managing to hide it better.

During work today, Pepper often let the young girl into her mind. Mostly wondering how
Brooklyn was doing at school, but also wondering about her past. Pepper held no resentment
for it, nothing of the teen's beginnings was her fault, but it was scary to think of what it might
have looked like…being raised in such a place.

She'd considered asking Natasha about it, to try and wage how bad it must have been. But
during breakfast, Nat had been adamant about not sharing any details with anyone, even
when Steve had been brave enough to ask.

"She speaks many languages. Her report said she spoke English, Latin, Russian, French,
German, Chinese, Spanish, and Arabic. I'm still not sure why she'd need all that for her
training, but the only language I'm learning is Russian, that's hard enough" Tony replied, not
at all fazed that he had memorized her file by now.

Pepper hummed in agreement, but turned to face said book on the desk.
"I might have to borrow that book after you're done then," Pepper said, earning a confused
head tilt from Tony.

"Why?" he asked, "To hit me with it?"

Pepper laughed, caressing one of his cheeks as they awaited the next message from the spider
boy.

"The same reason as you. I know we aren't married yet, and that she's not my daughter, but
you and I are a team. I promised to help you with Brooklyn, and I really want her to like me.
I wanna be able to help her too. That means learning things about her."

Tony's gaze turned into one of those deeply loving ones that were only shown when they
were alone, before he kissed her fiercely, adding a few whispered Thank you's and Love you's
in between.

It was the truth though. Even if it still seemed very far into the future, Pepper wanted to not
only take Tony as her family, but Brooklyn as well (if she would allow it). Pepper would love
the girl as if she were her own, and hopefully, that would help chase away that shadow of the
unknown past that seemed to follow the poor kid around.

Another beep from an incoming message.

Mr. Stark, also please don't be mad.

I saw Brooklyn after school and we went out to get some sandwiches, you know, the ones I
mentioned I loved.

Tony quickly straightened with Pepper in his arms, then shouted in a panic.

"FRIDAY, Text back! YOU WENT OUT WITH MY DAUGHTER!?" he yelled, almost
shooting out of the chair.

Pepper couldn't help but laugh. Protective dad mode against boys was already activated?

The woman recalled similar reactions from her father when she was a teen going on dates.
Back then it had been annoying, now it seemed like a step in the right direction for Tony.

But this WAS rather amusing for other reasons, especially since Brooklyn seemed to hate
Spider-man with a passion from what Pepper had noticed during the weekend. How had he
managed to convince her to have a bite with him? How had Peter Parker gotten past the teen's
impressive defenses?

Just what had happened during the school day that managed to make the impossible happen?

"Tony, you know Peter very well. He's the best boy you could ever hope for Brooklyn to date
if that were to be the case" she soothed, but Tony wasn't having it.

He gently stood from the chair, setting Pepper atop the stacks of papers on his desk before he
began pacing around.
"It doesn't matter! Isn't she too young for that?" he screamed, rushing over to wildly leaf
through the books on his desk, "What did the books say again? Discourage early
relationships? Allow them? I thought she hated him! This can't be happening to me, I'm
going to start growing gray hairs, aren't I?"

Another text came in, this time projected as a hologram before them so Tony could see it too.
A string of panicked texts that had Pepper hiding her smirk behind her raised arm.

Mr. Stark, not like that! I didn't mean 'go out' like that! I meant we both went outside of
school together! At the same time!

I offered to buy her food cause I figured Flash's friends would see her leave alone and they
might attack her. It's what they do! I was afraid they would get hurt, or that she would. Which
ended up happening but the two of us ran away and lost them so no harm was done.

Brooklyn even laughed a bit.

Then I just offered to buy her food so she wouldn't eat alone!

Did you know she moved a few doors down from me, Mr. Stark? I'm not stalking her or
anything of course! We both came home together.

Not one home of course! She went to her home and I went to mine! Different apartments!

Pepper was starting to feel pity for the poor kid, but holding back her laughter was starting to
make her eyes water. Looking Tony's way, she noticed how he’d already buried his face
under his t-shirt, pulling at the sleeves of his suit jacket as he tried to calm down.

"Does she know you're Spider-man?" Pepper asked, watching as her words appeared on font
before being sent away.

In seconds, another response came back.

No! Of course not!

She just wanted me to show her the city, I'm one of the few people she talked to at school.

If I told Brooklyn that, then she would surely hate me again. Maybe she'd try to kill me right
now!

"Right now?" Tony asked, pausing his pacing to move closer to the projected screen, "What
does he mean right now?"

They both watched the question being typed and sent. It took a little longer for a response to
arrive, by which time Tony was hilariously considering grabbing a suit and flying over to
Queens.

Um, well. My aunt met your daughter today, and she didn't like the idea of Brooklyn eating
all alone in her new home. So...she invited her for dinner. Brooklyn arrived like 3 minutes
ago.
After the messages, a photo came through of May and Brooklyn sitting down at a small table.
The woman was in the middle of serving the girl food, while Peter already seemed to have
quite the amount of slightly burnt casserole on his plate.

Brooklyn appeared calm, not necessarily comfortable, but still dressed in casual clothes from
this morning and a surprisingly small smile that was barely visible. It was a good thing that
Pepper was sitting down because otherwise, she might've stumbled just from the shock of
seeing the young Stark interacting with others.

"She agreed to eat with them? Just like that?" Tony asked no one in particular, inching closer
to get a better view of the photo Peter secretly took.

Pepper stood from the table then, placing her arms around Tony's torso and resting her chin
on his shoulder as they both beheld the snap of the scene currently happening at the Parker
household.

"Remember what Nat said, she needs to get close to people. At least Brooklyn won't be alone
there" Pepper said.

“I suppose” Tony whispered, eyes not leaving Brooklyn’s form for a while, as if he wanted to
remember that small smile the way Pepper did.

The simple image seemed to ease something in Tony at last. Brought him a kind of comfort
that he needed, maybe stored as a hope that things could change eventually. Anger gone, he
replied with a simple, 'Good job spidy, don't do anything reckless during patrols' before
tiredly taking Pepper's hand and guiding her upstairs to their room.

When she lay in Tony's arms, both of them bathed in the rays of moonlight from the bedroom
window, she couldn't help but be glad that at least there was someone trying to get through to
Brooklyn.

Peter's aunt was a kind woman, one Pepper had never met. But May knew of Peter's secret
identity and it was probable that Peter had shared the situation at hand with her.

Maybe Tony was still a bit startled, but Pepper had no worries when it came to the future of
this problem. These were important baby steps. In time, maybe they'd get some photos
together with a smiling Brooklyn to hang up on the wall.

Though Tony thought Pepper wasn't listening while she went to do her night routine in the
bathroom, she'd heard it loud and clear when he asked FRIDAY to save that photo of
Brooklyn in his personal files.

A file titled, 'Put in on the fridge protocol'.

Yeah, it was a faraway dream...but in time and with enough patience, the three of them would
be just fine. That was not only her hope but probably what she yearned for more than
anything.
Chapter End Notes

These two are the sweetest, I love writing scenes with them!

As always, remember to take care of yourselves. Please do things that you love, and take
time to appreciate something about yourself today.
 Harry Osborn

Brooklyn POV-

That morning was disorienting, to say the least, as much as the previous one had been but
under different circumstances.

When Brooklyn finally deigned to wake up from a restless sleep, it wasn't to the sound of her
cheap alarm, but rather to FRIDAY's voice slowly coaxing her into consciousness. The
sounds of artificial birds and a gentle song softly swayed around the room.

With eyes closed, the ex-assassin realized the bed sheets felt off, almost softer than usual. It
was with a heavy groan that Brook realized why that was. She was in Queens. She was a
Stark. She was still trying to contain the aftermath of a series of stupid decisions that had led
her to this nightmare.

Brooklyn was a ticking time bomb…a hungry one at that.

Maria Hill had picked out a plain white bed sheet set, which made it feel like she was sinking
into a fluffy cloud of bliss as she lay on that foreign bed. It had been one of the many pleasant
surprises she'd found inside this apartment, one that ‘morning Brook’ deeply appreciated as
she rose from within the sheets that smelled of lavender and cotton. Once her bare feet hit the
floor, she was reminded of the wooden floors that had been automatically warmed by the
same technology back at the Compound. Technology she'd yet to figure out the workings of,
much like the other attributes of this place.

The rest of her bedroom, which she'd inspected along with her apartment last night, was
relatively 'modern' to put it lightly. An unusual cocoon of comforts she’d never been able to
behold, much less afford.

Brook had quickly realized last night that most of the features of her home could be
controlled with FRIDAY's help, but she'd still taken the time between homework assignments
and reading her SHIELD files to figure out how to work some things, from the microwave to
the complicated settings of her bathtub.

This apartment was also slightly bigger than her previous one, with a guest bedroom almost
equal in size to her room. The only difference was that Brooklyn had spent some time
organizing her few belongings in her room before bed. Now it looked slightly more
personalized, a little bit more familiar if one squinted enough. Even if the additions had only
been a few items she'd kept as her prized treasures for years.

True to his word, Agent Coulson had brought back everything but her weapons. A true
shame, but with time (hopefully) SHIELD would see it fit to give Brook some replacements.
At least the agent hadn't taken away the emergency bag with cash, a cluster of fake IDs, and
passports with different identities.

Brook hoped he hadn't even opened the gym bag to begin with.
The loss of her weapons would be missed, but for now, Brooklyn still had the watch Stark
had given her. Though she wasn't thrilled over the thought of this being something made and
given to her by him, it'd helped her settle down into sleep knowing she at least had a weapon
to defend herself with should someone try and kill her during her sleep.

The bulletproof windows helped too.

After eating with May and Peter Parker last night, the teen had been satisfied with the meal
despite the new company, sleep hadn't been hard to find because of it. An unusual feeling.
Now in the morning, as the girl shuffled out of the room, she quickly noticed the smell of
casserole coming from outside her room door.

Brooklyn had something to look forward to today. May's cooking.

After a quick shower, in which she finally managed to work out all the controls for hot and
cold water, the girl had a choice to make as she stood before her much too large closet filled
to the brim with the clothes purchased from the mall.

A thought struck her then as she stood before the piles of clothing items, a sad truth really.
People knew who Brook was now, in and out of school grounds, she'd learned that yesterday
and would likely never forget it from now on. Would dressing subtly to try and avoid
attention really work after her spectacle yesterday?

Likely not, she realized.

Public attention would be her constant shadow from now on. If she were worthy of her title
as a former Black Widow, Brooklyn would use that to her advantage, no matter how
uncomfortable it made her to come out of the darkness, and let herself be seen…even if it
was only a fabricated version of herself.

So she pushed aside the dark and baggy clothes she’d intended to wear on the first days of
school till people lost interest in her presence, instead, Brook browsed the type of outfits that
had once been reserved for weekends. The new clothes she'd bought.

Keeping the unusually sunny weather in mind, Brooklyn opted for a beige skirt, some darker
leggings, along with one of the elegant black shirts Pepper had picked out at the mall. In fact,
if memory served, the other two clothing items had been picked out by her otets and Happy.
All clothes of the highest quality, likely worth more than she could make in a year at the
diner. Clothes perhaps more worthy of the daughter of Anthony Stark.

Looking through her collection of cheap jewelry gathered over the years, the ex-assassin
opted for one of her nicer necklaces of fake pearls and went easy on the lipstick for today if
only because she'd yet to feel like herself to opt for the red lipstick calling her name. Not just
because she was in a new school and city, but because her new identity had yet to feel like it
was her own.

As far as breakfast was concerned, Brook didn't have to worry for once.
Before leaving the apartment two doors down last night, May had given Brook a tupperware
of leftovers for the next few days. The woman's cooking had some flaws of course, but it was
delicious nonetheless. As someone who had spent years eating food out of trash cans, she’d
learned not to be picky with flavors, thinking of food for its nutritional benefits first.

Dare she say, May's casserole was now Brooklyn's favorite meal after Rogers' pancakes?
Probably not, though her eating of said meals probably showed the surprising affection she
held over those dishes. Home-cooked meals…a foreign concept until now.

Settling down by the kitchen, Brook prepped the coffee machine as she swung her hips to the
song blasted around the room while listening to FRIDAY's report of the weather and
schedule. Brooklyn was reminded she'd have her first SHIELD Academy trial today, so she
decided to leave the yummy food for later when she'd likely really needed it.

Thankfully, Agent Hill (or Coulson) had stocked her pantry and kitchen full of different
foods, mostly easy meals that only needed to be heated up with water or put in the
microwave. Even if this place had all the necessary appliances for a complex meal, the agents
had clearly labeled her as a teenager unable to cook.

That was mostly true of course, culinary arts were not part of the Red Room necessities after
all.

No matter, Brooklyn quickly downed a bowl of cereal and milk, leaving her with enough
time to drink her coffee in peace as she stared out to her balcony and the city beyond.

Flipping through the switches of the coffee machine had brought a sense of nostalgia, a
longing for her old job. But the coffee hadn't turned out nearly as good.

By the time the assassin was stuffing some last-minute homework into her backpack, three
successive knocks came at her door. At first, Brook had been so startled that she pulled the
Stark blaster glove into place. Though she could probably ask FRIDAY who was at the door,
that would make unnecessary noise. It could give her away.

Slowly, the girl walked over to the front door, ready to fire just like she'd practiced last night
for emergency situations like these.

When Brooklyn looked through the peephole though, the sweet face of Peter Parker came
into view. He was patiently swinging back and forth on his heels, backpack in place and
books in hand. Wondering what he would want this early, Brook put the blaster glove back
into place with some mild difficulty and asked FRIDAY to pause the music that was softly
playing across the apartment's space.

When she opened the door, Peter's face lit up into a smile, "Good morning!" he said.

Now becoming more accustomed to the boy and his odd kindness, Brook barely fought with
herself as she let him inside her home with a greeting of her own. Brooklyn noted the boy
looked around the place in awe, eyes settling on the large screen TV to his right, and the
clean space that looked like something out of an Ikea catalog.
His eyes also lingered on the picture frames across the living room, bought for decoration
purposes. Still, it was with a slight panic that the girl realized Peter must be noticing the lack
of family photos in her loft. Families, at least normal ones, had those around proudly
displaying the stages of their lives, and milestones. Brooklyn had nothing to show but
random fruit arrangements and catalog families that weren't her own.

It was a slip-up to her carefully crafted cover story, one she had to fix quickly.

Heading towards the dining table, the ex-assassin tried her best at a convincing casual laugh.

"Sorry the place looks so dead, I haven't moved in all my stuff just yet. I swear I don't care
about fruit all that much"

Thankfully, her classmate laughed along, taking her lie as the joke she'd hoped to make. His
sweet smile didn't falter as he said, "This place looks great already. May will be happy to hear
that. She was worried you'd be sleeping on an air mattress last night and was seconds away
from making me call you over again to sleep on my spare bunk bed. I convinced her you
might find that weird"

WHAT!? Really?

The girl tried to keep her composure intact as she downed the last of her coffee.

"We did just meet yesterday," Brook noted with a nervous laugh, stuffing the rest of her
books inside her black school bag. She also took advantage of Peter's presence in the living
room to hide her SHIELD files so the innocent boy wouldn't wonder why she had alien
weapon blueprints all over her table.

When she turned back, she found him facing her way.

"What are you doing here?" Brook asked, at last, while keeping her eyes back on the table as
she uselessly tidied it up by straightening her used dishes and taking her worn ballet shoes off
the empty chair.

When she caught his gaze as she emerged from the kitchen, Peter looked confused.

"I'm here so we can go to school?"

Brooklyn couldn't help but showcase a half-smile as she fastened her black coat into place,
something a little (a lot) more expensive than she was used to, though it was nice to have
warmth with no holes for once. If memory served, this coat had also been one of Stark's picks
at the store. Something that he'd joked caught his eye because of the golden embroidery along
the ends of the sleeves that just so happened to match the shade of gold in his suits.

Why Brook had bought it if that had been the case? Simple, because it was warm. As a child
that had known the freezing temperatures of Russia and the lack of money to afford
something for a common winter, she'd appreciated the comfort it might provide. That and
maybe she'd been swayed by Pepper's enthusiasm.
"Just because your aunt tells you to do something, doesn't mean you have to," she said over
her shoulder.

Once black heels were on her feet (a choice to both try and attain the illusion of power with
the additional height, and to use the pointed end as a weapon if need be), Brook turned back
to see the boy leaning against her couch awkwardly.

"I'm not doing this because May told me to. I genuinely think it's a good idea that we walk to
school together. I do it all the time with friends" Peter said, walking over to her side when she
began gathering her phone and fastening her backpack on her shoulder.

Brooklyn made sure to look him in the eye as she spoke her next words after almost opting to
say nothing at all. She dared look up at the boy and asked, "I'm your friend? We just met
yesterday"

Her lab partner smiled nervously, "There is no time frame that says when two people become
friends. But if you'd like, maybe we can give this friendship a try? Or not, if you don't want
to, I'm sure there are much cooler people at school you'd rather be friends with"

Friendship? Was Peter Parker seriously offering to be her friend?

The closest the ex-assassin ever had to that was her boss back at the diner. The only other
person Brook was familiar with was her sestra, and Natasha was definitely not a friend by
any means. She was more of a past acquaintance, a fellow ex-assassin.

At that moment, Brook was only certain of a few things.

One…she did not hate Peter Parker or any of the other classmates she'd eaten lunch with,
people he considered his friends.

Two…which was the scariest thought of them all…this was Brook's life now even if partially
controlled by SHIELD, and as much as she wanted to anticipate ill intentions from them, her
classmates weren't like the company she’d kept in the Red Room. They weren't going to die a
day from now by her hands, or disappear, much less try and kill her, right?

Brook was alone, but at the same time, surrounded by people her gut screamed would be
decent to have around. Looking into Peter's big doe-like brown eyes, she still saw no malice,
no anger, or ulterior motives.

He was just a normal kid who wanted a friend.

Brook considered that she might not be a very good one in return. She had too many secrets
she couldn't confide with this boy. But being around him had made school go by much faster
and be all the more bearable. His kindness and joy were like a puzzle to her, as well as a
contagious pull.

"Are you sure you want me as a friend?" she dared to ask, earning a quick nod from the boy
who didn't even hesitate with his answer.

“Of course,” he whispered gently, yet sure of every word he spoke.

This could be an awful decision, Brook realized. It could become a weakness. But in all
honesty, Brook would feel better being around to protect Peter from the idiots at their school
rather than leave him alone to fend for himself.

That was it. She was doing this for him, to protect him, not really because she cared all that
much to fill the void of loneliness she’d dealt with all these years. She wasn't giving in to the
curiosity of what having such a bond would be like...

So the girl shook her head in resignation, went over to the closet by her front door, and
snatched a warmer jacket that would likely fit the boy, a loose black zip-up that she'd bought
for lazy nights on the couch.

"Maybe we will give this friendship a try. So I suppose, as friends, you should listen to me
when I say that you should wear this so you don't freeze," she said, throwing the article of
clothing to him, which he surprisingly managed to catch quite gracefully. His light jacket was
making her nervous, one already falling apart at the seams.

"Really?" Peter asked hopefully, eyeing the expensive article of clothing, then her. That
action was repeated enough that Brooklyn wondered if perhaps he thought it odd to be given
clothes by a girl, despite the fact that the jacket could pass off as male attire easily.

She wondered if she’d made a mistake already. But she’d seen people at her old school hand
over their jackets to their friends to shield against the cold, no one had frozen up by the
gesture as Peter had though. Brooklyn had assumed such gestures were what had to be
done…

Brook deigned to laugh freely just this once, "Your jacket looks like it's falling apart, and thin
enough to not do a thing against the cold air outside. Even if the sun is out. Trust me, I know
how wearing something thin like that feels" Brook said, waiting until he reluctantly slipped
the jacket over his own before making her way out the door.

Once Peter had followed her outside, the girl closed the door with a simple password on the
keypad. For the first time in her life, Brooklyn left her house to go to school with actual
company.

Brook and her first friend went down the building stairs, both munching on some croissants
May had given Peter so they could eat on the way to school. The fact that May had gone
down to the bakery a block away just to get these fresh for them and managed to pass on a
greeting through Peter for her...it felt odd to be thought about.

Brook would have to do something of equal value for the kind woman someday. Maybe she
could go to a nearby library in search of some cookbooks to feed May's hobby.

Once near the gates of the building, Brook and Peter were too busy discussing the upcoming
events in school that she barely registered the presence of a person waiting outside the gate.

Next thing she knew, Peter was being tackled by a boy and placed in a headlock.
"Hey there, Parker!" the guy screamed. The stranger knew Peter then...this wasn't a random
attack.

Not wasting any more time with observations, Brooklyn dropped her backpack and grabbed
onto the guy's arm, pulling him away from Peter in one swift movement. In seconds, the ex-
assassin wound her body under the stranger's arm and used her back to flip him over her
shoulder into a painful tumble to the floor, backpack and all.

She had planned to punch him in the nose first, which would be a shame considering how
good-looking the brown-haired teen was, but just before she could pull her fist back, Peter
suddenly stood between them nervously clutching her arms back.

"I know you don't like fights, Parker. But Flash's friends have gone too far this time waiting
outside the place you live in," Brooklyn snarled, sending a nasty stare the guy's way, daring
him to stand again, "it's time to teach them a lesson they won't forget"

"No!" Peter yelled, "That's not one of Flash's friends. He's MY friend!"

Friend?

She stumbled back, watching as the stranger lay on the ground with eyes closed as he slowly
ran a hand along the arm she'd been pulling.

Brook paused to process Peter's words, then with slight embarrassment, the girl slowly
walked over to the guy she had thrown onto the floor. Sheepishly, she extended a hand for
Peter's friend, which he surprisingly took with a laugh while clutching the side of his chest.

"Wow! That was insane, where did you learn to do that?" the boy asked, fixing his wild curls
back into place as he eagerly waited for an answer.

Brook wiped some grass off his white sweater, glad the greenery hadn't been muddy from
rain to stain it. It looked expensive, as lavish as her own coat which she’d been willing to
stain with blood seconds ago.

"I took a self-defense class once. About my actions…I thought you were attacking him,"
Brooklyn partially lied, shooting an apologetic smile Peter's way, who was busy wiping grass
off his friend on the other side.

This teen before her, Brook realized she hadn’t met him yesterday, that he hadn’t sat with
them at lunch. She would’ve remembered his big smile, his tanned skin that matched his
chocolate-colored beach curls surprisingly well. There was an air to him, one not just of
confidence, but a kind of regality barely masked by the mirth and mischief in those brown
eyes.

"No worries." the guy said with a grin, turning to hug Peter once again too quickly for her to
note any more of his attributes, "I just haven't seen this guy in a while, I missed him too
much. Though I am glad someone's been looking out for him"

Peter laughed, "It's been a week, Harry"

The guy, Harry, smiled brightly. Jumping in place as he whined, "It was a very long week
then! I missed everyone!"

Brooklyn, still slightly ashamed, realized she'd already failed at the 'friendship thing' by
almost killing one of Peter's own friends. So Brook did the one thing she'd only done a
handful of times in her life...and apologized properly.

"I really am sorry. I bet that hurt" the girl said, catching the guy's gaze, which still didn't look
mad or upset. Not even a little bit.

"No problem, gorgeous. My horoscope said my world would be turned upside down today,
guess it was meant to be a warning" he said with a carefree laugh, then turned back to Peter
and loudly whispered, "Since when do you talk to girls, Pete?"

Peter's cheeks became slightly rosy, but he walked over to Brooklyn and motioned between
the two, "Brooklyn, this is my friend, Harold Osborn. He's our other lab partner"

So THIS was the other lab partner for Chemistry...

The guy beamed, taking her hand and playfully kissing it, he'd done it quickly enough that
Brook let it slide without slapping him across the face. That would've been really bad
manners after almost killing him earlier.

"Harold...how awful and serious. Just call me Harry, everyone does" he said to Brooklyn.

Confident. Handsome. Carefree.

What an interesting friend, not at all like Ned and MJ, Peter's other friends who were shy and
reserved.

Parker then motioned a hand towards Brook, "Harry, this is Brooklyn Stark. She started
school yesterday"

Harry's mouth dropped, but he quickly began to cheer around in place, jumping with fists in
the air before he went over to her. And this time, instead of Peter being the tackling victim,
she was. The boy's embrace, like all others she'd been receiving lately, came as a foreign
feeling. Filling her body with numbing shock.

"Oh, no way! I heard about that! I was blown away that someone like Tony would have a kid
he managed to keep away from society all this time! My dad and your dad have only done a
few projects together in the past, but it would have been nice of him to bring you along, at
least then I wouldn't have sat bored to death by myself all my life!"

Brooklyn managed to work around the guy's embrace (which she only allowed because she'd
almost killed him), and gave Peter a questioning glance. It may have been a mistake asking
for clarification, considering Harry knew her otets and clearly she was supposed to have
some semblance of who he was.

"Harry's dad owns Oscorp Industries," Peter said.

Oscorp Industries. THAT Oscorp!?

They were quite popular on the eastern coast as of late. If Brook's memories of the news over
the years were correct, that company was famous for its experimental science division,
military research, and cross-species genetics field.

Just like everyone in their right mind knew about Stark Industries, Oscorp Industries was
right up there with the big companies of the world. The ones that ran everything and had been
owned by well-known families for generations, like a crown might pass down along family
members amongst royalty.

It would make sense that Harry Osborn knew Stark then.

Their parents truly knew each other personally then, so Brook made a point to bring this up to
her otets later. If only to help with her cover around people like Harry, people she was
supposed to know about.

Was that what Flash meant yesterday during their altercation? When he mentioned something
about kids with parents who owned companies being entitled? He'd been referring to this
Harry Osborn.

At last, the boy broke free with a smile, turning to face Peter with a questioning gaze, "She's
our lab partner?"

Peter chuckled, "Yeah, for Chemistry. You've missed some stuff this past week you've been
gone"

"Sorry, dad really wanted to go to the Bahamas. How could I refuse?" Harry replied, looping
an arm through Peters and the other through hers as they began a steady pace out towards the
street. Even when Harry had just met her, he had no qualms acting as though they'd known
each other all their lives.

Brooklyn was once again too stunned to do anything about it.

Peter and Harry spent time catching up during their walk to the metro station. Still unfamiliar
with the city, Brooklyn reluctantly continued to walk with the guys, arm looped with Harry's
as he guided her past the nearly empty streets of the morning. As the two conversed, Brook
had taken the time to further gaze around her new home, noting places that might be of some
use to her in the future, as well as quick escape routes away from her apartment complex.

Not that she planned on running away anytime soon, it was just good to be prepared.

By the time they reached the metro station, the streets were no longer empty. People filed in
and out of the large underground area, but everyone looked as exhausted as Brook already
felt. When they descended into the underground structure, Brook pulled out the metro card
Agent Hill had left her at home and swiped it without a problem, following the actions of the
two boys accompanying her.
Before, back in her old home, Brooklyn's school had been so close to the apartment it was
merely a walk away. Unfortunately, it was much faster to take the metro or the school bus to
Midtown than walk leisurely for almost half an hour like she and Peter had done yesterday.

Harry mentioned having something against the school buses, so metro it was.

It came with no surprise that the metro station was not very clean, but it was buzzing with
train horns so loud she'd flinched the first time, much to her companion's amusement. They
probably thought that as a Stark, she’d never resorted to public transport, when in reality
she’d just never been able to afford it.

While they waited for the next train to arrive, Brook became enthralled by the many routes
this station and the others across New York provided.

It was another good thing to memorize, should she ever need it.

Brook was beginning to look for one that could lead her to upstate New York, that was until
Harry brought her back into the conversation.

"Oh what great things I've come back to! Well, at least our parents are teaming up for
business again, so we'll see plenty of each other outside of school. AND at least I'm not the
only heir to mass fortune at school anymore! Now we can be freaks together!" he said,
bringing her closer to his form by tugging on their looped arms.

Brook was stunned by her lack of information on that particular subject. What did he mean
about teaming up?

"Why are our...dads working together?" she asked, pulling her arm away from his to warm
her freezing hands. At least that was the excuse. The boy didn't seem offended by her action
and continued to speak, but in a hushed tone only the three of them could hear, clearly
keeping mind of the other people waiting around them.

"As much as I care about Peter, I can't say this stuff in front of a civilian," he said, but then
shrugged with a devilish smile, "Then again, telling Peter WOULD be the responsible thing
to do for a friend given the circumstances. Ok fine! If you insist" neither teens had pressed,
but Harry added, "Our fathers are working on some sort of antenna or satellite that can track
down some bad guys. But you must know that already, right?"

Bad guys...he meant the issue with the alien weapons.

The weapons’ energy COULD be tracked with enough manpower and correct equipment.
From what she'd studied last night, these weapons carried specific gamma radiation much
like records of Loki's staff from years ago. All things considered, that wasn't a bad place to
start.

"Right, he might've mentioned a thing or two about it all. I forgot." Brook answered,
watching as lights emerged from the tunnel up ahead and a train slowed down to a stop
before them.
Once the teens quickly ran inside to get some seats, they managed to luck out with a few by
the back of their section, and the vehicle quickly sped away not seconds after. The feeling
was foreign, but Brooklyn tried not to let it show, lest she be labeled wrongly as a rich girl
who thought herself above such accommodations.

Of course, no one had noticed her yet, which was a small relief of its own.

Beside her, Harry and Peter clutched their backpacks to their chest just as she was, but they
were using them as pillows to rest their heads against. The two boys had also given her the
middle of the three seats, so Harry easily turned his attention back over to her.

"It's so nice to have someone my age I can relate to! There are only so many young kids our
age that are burdened with inheriting companies of large magnitudes, but none I really speak
to. We're a rare breed after all."

It took Brooklyn a second to realize that even if Stark had mentioned during the conference
that the inheriting of Stark industries was not yet set in stone, it was the most likely outcome.
Her future. That made her just like Harry, a child next in line for a burdensome empire.

But she’d never cared about companies and heirs, had not known Harry existed up until
today. It made her both angry and nervous not being in the known…having to pretend with
lack of information.

Brook was curious enough to integrate herself into the conversation, after all, it wasn't often
she was put in a category with other people that didn't pertain to criminals. She carefully
inquired, "I assumed our circumstances were very uncommon, how many others are there?"

Harry tilted his head back, deep in thought, "I think there are only two other kids our age that
will inherit companies as big as ours, but it's the Wayne boy and the Luthor kid. I think all the
crazy New Jersey drama made them cold and a little odd. Good thing we're normal New
Yorkers right?"

Maybe Harry was, but Brooklyn wasn't exactly sure that being a teen assassin was a very
common occurrence. Still, for Harry's benefit, the girl nodded even if she'd only heard the last
names Wayne and Luthor vaguely in the news a handful of times despite being of equal
might as her otets’ company.

"Gotham does seem scary, it would be freaky to live there," Peter added, shivering at the
thought of the crime city of the world. A place everyone in the world knew not to visit lightly
despite its economical strength and famous celebrities. Too bad the famous Bat of Gotham
had refused Avengers or Justice League help to sort out his city, no heroes aside from him
and his sidekicks had authority there, or at least that was the rumor.

Even so, Brooklyn would try her very best to make sure that someone as innocent as Peter
stayed far away from such a place. With his luck, he might find himself there one day
defenseless.

Harry nodded in agreement then began shaking her arm enthusiastically, "Oh, Brooklyn! You
haven't been to those fancy galas my dad loves taking me to, right? I've met the other kids
during those, and they are absolutely terrifying! Let me tell you, that Wayne kid is like a
clone of his father. Honestly, he might be, I'm not even sure if he's human with that poker
face of his,”

After an amused laugh, he added, “And Lex Jr. is rumored to be the son of an alien woman,
you know, those that supposedly came before the chitauri. I think he IS Lana's boy though, he
looks like his mom in some ways, but you won't like him, he takes after his dad. Some loose
bolts they have. Oh! I think the head of STAR Industries recently adopted some kid to take
over his company, but he's older than us and he never comes to anything. The daughter of
Oliver Queen is a little older than us too, but I heard she's some sort of freak too seeing as her
family is friends with the Waynes. Can you believe that?"

Suddenly, Brook regretted not paying more attention to those celebrity shows like TMZ or
sparing a few dimes in teen magazines. They would have likely provided her with some
useful information right about now considering she had no clue who he was talking about.

All she could think to answer was, "I'm suddenly very glad I never went to that fancy stuff
then"

Harry whined, "Oh, but you must! I don't want to deal with it alone anymore! Plus, I can
teach you all about surviving the stupidity of high society. We can go and make fun of the
others, maybe sneak in some sips of wine along the way"

Interesting proposition. The offer for knowledge, not the wine.

Somehow she'd managed to get Peter to be her aid in all things Queens, and Harry in all
things posh. All without asking. At least she wouldn't have to figure things out from zero
then, she could think of them as her personal encyclopedias for such matters.

Well…not Peter. He was her friend now.

Brook still wasn't sure if SHIELD or her otets would even let her attend such public events
Harry spoke of, even if that was what they'd promised to the media in exchange for some
privacy. If that did happen, at least she'd have someone to talk to now.

"I'll keep that in mind," Brooklyn answered.

Both Harry and Peter appeared happy about her agreement, the promise of more
conversations and time spent together.

"Hey, do you go to your dad's office often? In case you didn't know, one of the main Oscorp
offices is in Manhattan too, right next to the new Stark industries building! Maybe we can
meet up then too if you get bored? I certainly do"

She'd never even considered getting close to a Stark Industries building, not when her
previous life's mission had been to take over the company for ill purposes. Surely, her otets
wouldn't allow such a thing knowing the truth, so Brook just shrugged.
The metro came to a rather violent stop after a time, and more people packed inside the
already small space despite the lack of seats. By her vicinity, an elderly woman came to a
stop, trying to grab the handle above Peter's seat to keep herself steady. Brooklyn noted the
weak body and the bags in hand, but quickly shoved that memory of the woman aside, that
was until she heard shuffling from her seat mates.

In the blink of an eye, both Peter and Harry stood and offered up their seats to the old lady.
No hesitation.

That had been...unexpected.

It wasn't often that Brooklyn was reminded of the genuinely good people in the world,
probably why a part of her thought either of these guys was just biding their time to kill her.
That dark thought vanished as soon as she beheld the elderly woman patting their chests
fondly, leaning them down to kiss their cheeks in thanks.

Brook was left with no other choice but to help the woman sit down, carefully lowering her
to the plastic seat and setting her groceries on Harry's old seat. The old lady then called out
two names, and two little boys emerged from the many bodies that filled the cart.

They couldn't be older than five, both heavily freckled and perhaps identical twins. Even if
they styled their blond locks differently, their clothes and smiles were the same. The older
lady whom the kids referred to as Nanna, quickly rushed them to her side. One shared a seat
with the groceries and the other was making his way to the elderly's lap.

It was with newfound realization stemming from concern for others that Brook realized that
position would get uncomfortable very quickly, carrying a kid on your lap at such an age for
who knew how many stops. That uncomfortable feeling that had her rescue Peter yesterday
surfaced again like an illness.

Maybe her companion's kindness was contagious or something, because Brooklyn put an arm
on the grandma's shoulder, shaking her head as she stood from the middle seat.

The elderly gave her a sweet smile.

"Thank you, sweet children. You lot were raised right" Nanna said, kissing Brook's cheek as
if she'd given her the moon or something. Even the little boy sneaked in a whispered thanks,
taking a seat next to his twin.

By the time Brook adjusted her backpack in place and scrambled for a steading hook above
her, the metro began to move again. She'd almost fallen into Peter's tall frame, but caught her
hold at the last possible minute. Now staring between the two boys, looking down at the seats
they'd given up, Brook realized how uncomfortable such an upright position would have been
for the old lady. It certainly was for Brook, being tossed around everywhere when the vehicle
moved...

"That was very kind of you, Brooklyn. We only have two more stops, but tell me if you get
tired" Peter said beside her, to which Brook rolled her eyes.
"You did it first, and I'm not exhausted in the slightest" replied Brook, watching the passing
lights of the tunnel outside the windows with mild annoyance.

"My driver could've taken us to school, but Peter doesn't like that" Harry mentioned, more in
a teasing manner than a complaint as he was tossed around with the cart’s movement.

Peter shook his head, "I just don't think it's fair"

His friend scoffed, shaking curls out of his face as he asked Brook, "Was he always like this
when he was interning for your dad? The selfless boy in every aspect? I've had to deal with
this kid since elementary, I can only imagine how he was in a work environment"

Interning with Stark? As in Tony Stark?

"You what?" Brook asked, turning to see a blushing Peter swaying to the will of the metro.

When Peter didn't answer, his friend did, "Yeah, Peter did an internship for Stark industries
last year. For the Source and Tech division, the fancy stuff despite the fact that it was the first
year they offered such positions and that he’s still a high school student"

"Many people must have done it too, Harry. Brook can't be expected to remember all interns"
Peter replied, looking over her shoulder toward his friend.

Peter... he what?

"You actually interned for my...dad?" she asked, still struggling with that last word.

The boy looked away shyly, using his free hand to toy with the sleeves of the jacket she'd lent
him, "Yeah. I'm still doing some work for Stark Industries, but it's nothing really"

"Are you kidding!" Harry yelled, catching the attention of the people around them.
Thankfully, he had the sense to whisper the rest of his thoughts, "It's insane! I offered him an
internship with my dad last year, but he said it wouldn't be fair to just be handed something
like that. Then, he manages to get one with THE Tony Stark all on his own! Makes sense if
you ask me, he's the smartest kid in school"

Peter's cheeks only became redder, "I'm not the smartest, you need to stop saying that!"

As the boys began to argue over Peter's intelligence, Brook realized the metro had emerged
from the underground to the outside with a flash of sunlight. The sights of buildings began
emerging into view, but from this high up, she had yet to see people walking by.

What Brook did notice were the various buildings whose walls were covered with different
sized graffiti and murals of that idiot, Spider-man. The sight of the masked hero made her
confusion over Peter's internship dim in exchange for absolute hatred for the other guy
working with Brook's father.

And of course, the little kids whom the teens had given their seats up for were looking
outside too, and when they caught sight of the art, they began shouting in glee for their
'favorite superhero'.
One even pulled out a small action figure from his sweater, one of the masked hero who
made her blood boil. The little boy began to guide the figure as if it were jumping from
building to building, earning an encouraging laugh from his Nanna.

Of course, Brook had to end up in Spider-man's city out of all places...

"You guys really worship this guy?" the girl asked her companions, pointing at the still
visible art of the hero of Queens. Seriously, did people have nothing better to draw?

Harry noticed her gaze and began patting her shoulder excitedly, almost losing his grip on the
metal handle above him.

"Spider-man is the coolest! Right, Pete? I can't wait till he's announced as an official Avenger.
He's gonna be Queens’ pride and joy!" Harry said, and even some of the people around them
began shouting their agreement, sparking a conversation about the hero all around them.

Brooklyn frowned, she had done this...

For the rest of the ride, she'd spent it listening to people's stories, recalling accounts of
impossible rescues the hero in red and blue spandex had done. She'd heard it all by the time
they got out at their station. Apparently, Spider-man held up a collapsing building with his
bare hands last year. He'd run into a blazing fire to save a family, including their dog. Even
took to stopping traffic for little kids to get to school on time, returning lost items, and things
that seemed so un-hero-like that they almost made her chuckle..

One guy even claimed the masked hero could swing up twenty feet above the highest
building in Queens. That son of a...based on what she’d seen, he probably could.

At least she'd yet to see Spider-man here, which she likely would, considering Brooklyn had
training at the compound later in the day.

Quickly glancing over at her phone, the assassin smirked at the lone message left by Happy
this morning.

If you're not outside when I get there, you're walking all the way to the compound, you brat.

Three-hour ride with Grumpy...oh, the fun things that awaited her.

In the little time it took, the teens made it to a station that was a twin to the one by Brook's
home, only this exit led to a bridge they'd have to cross to get to Midtown High on the other
side of the road. Not an extremely long trip after all.

Though her companions seemed unfazed by the sight of their school, there was still
something unfamiliar with the place for Brook. Some part of her was still trying to catalog it
as her new school, but hopefully that feeling would go away with time. Though she normally
wouldn't want to, Brooklyn hoped she’d get used to the place sooner rather than later.

It was with no surprise that the place was already buzzing with students, and the sounds of
the school band playing on the football field greeted the teens as they walked inside the
school grounds like they had the day before. Only this time, she didn’t venture in alone.
As soon as the three made it past the gates, all eyes were on them.

Uncomfortably, Brook watched as everyone they passed paused their conversations and
activities just to whisper. Though yesterday had been a chance to get used to all this, some
part of her wanted to hide.

Being sandwiched between Peter and Harry, there was little room to run or hide, so the girl
worked up her courage by reminding herself that an assassin would not be afraid of such
harmless individuals. Head held high, the girl walked alongside her companions, finding out
that if she stared back at people, they'd eventually turn away in shame at being caught.

A helpful tactic she'd surely remember.

Another notable observation was the way girls who were walking by made the effort of
greeting Harry back to school, all with sweet smiles and childish giggles when he kindly
replied back. It was comical how easily these girls could sense his arrival, doing everything
but throwing themselves at him as they walked by. None of those girls greeted Peter or
Brooklyn, but her first friend didn't seem to mind it one bit, almost like he was used to being
overlooked in Harry's presence.

Instead, he gently pulled on Brook's coat, pointing to a classroom window up above where
the decathlon team met so she would know where to go for next week. Helpful as always.

"MJ told the group yesterday that you'd be joining. They are all really excited" Peter added,
clearly another attempt to ease her nerves when she felt her body stiffen.

Harry suddenly took his attention away from the cluster of cheerleaders yelling out Harry's
name in a not-so-elaborate cheer, "You're in the Decathlon team, Stark? Crazy that you met
the cut! Congrats!"

Not like she'd had much choice.

"Are you in the team too?" she asked, just as a girl brushed past Harry's arm, then pretended
she hadn't done it on purpose and apologized with slow and slurred words she must have
thought were attractive.

Once ‘blonde-highlights girl’ caught sight of Brook by Harry's side, said girl had the nerve to
give the ex-assassin a dirty look before walking away with her friends. Who did that bitch
think she was!? Challenging an assassin was probably a worse decision than the yellow top
the stranger picked out for today. It took a surprising amount of self-control not to go bash
that girl's face against the goalpost of the field.

Being talked about she could ignore, being judged in a negative manner…now that was new.

Harry didn't seem to notice the altercation or the internal battle of will she fought, instead
answering calmly as they made their way towards the school building, "Me? On the
Decathlon team? I know we just met, so I'll let you know, I'm not smart like you two. My
father wanted me to join though, probably wishes I was more like Peter that way"
Was that a...hint of jealousy?

Interesting to think people could stay friends with such negative emotions between them.

Halfway through the football field, a cluster of letterman jackets rushed over toward Brook's
path. Remembering the kind of friends Flash kept around, the girl got ready to fight, already
looking for weaknesses the cluster of boys possessed. But it wasn't her or Peter they attacked,
it was Harry whom they tackled into a loud embrace.

This time, Brooklyn recognized it as a friendly gesture, not an attack, something she'd
learned from this morning.

The guys all laughed and thanked Harry for coming back before some game on Friday they
apparently had scheduled. Unfamiliar with what that meant, the girl turned towards her friend
for clarification.

"Harry plays football" Peter whispered to her, "He's the captain, a good one too"

It seemed so. The team worshiped Harry the way the city worshiped Spider-man.

One of the guys turned his attention away from the manly exchange of jokes and shoves,
staring right at Brook. He was the leanest of the group, with very light strawberry-blonde hair
and a confident smile like Harry's, though not as genuine.

He wasn't one of Flash's friends, in fact, the assassin realized that none of them were.

Still, the stranger came forward, looking Brooklyn up and down shamelessly with a teasing
smile on his lips.

"You're Brooklyn right?" he asked.

The girl had to fight the urge to roll her eyes and mock the teen as a mind reader. Everyone
knew who she was, that was a stupid question. But, since he seemed to be friends with Harry,
Brooklyn pushed away the sass and nodded instead.

The boy patted her shoulder a few times in what she assumed to be a friendly gesture, even
when she’d debated breaking a few of his fingers, she kept her composure by a thread.

Casually, confidently, the boy asked, "Has Harry asked you out yet? You'd make the perfect
couple being who you are. The most popular kids getting it on! Ruling the school like
royalty!" he said, earning a quick slap on the back of his head…from Harry himself.

Perfect couple? Because their parents were rich? What an illogical conclusion that was.

"Don't be like that, Noah. Brooklyn is a friend and she's cool" he said, looping an arm over
Brook's and Peter's shoulders as he began to walk away with a simple, "See ya later for
practice boys!" to his team.

As she was thankfully being steered away, the girl noticed that on the other side of the field
was a cluster of the football team who hadn't gone to greet Harry, some of which she
recognized as Flash's friends, seemingly out of place without their leader.

"Don't pay them any mind," Harry said to her, referring back to his friends, "People are just
being stupid"

"They don't even know me and they already think I'm dating you" she replied curiously,
eyeing the passing students who were keenly watching them walk by.

"People just want rumors to spread, pay them no mind and all should be fine. It's just because
of our parents, after all, every celebrity has to deal with stuff like this at some point. I’d
know, trust me" Harry said, earning a nod from Peter on the other side of his hold.

An unforeseen sacrifice of this new life, that's what this was. But rumors could be ignored,
and if they somehow became a cumbersome part of everyday life, Brook would deal with
them…her way.

By the time they made it to the entrance of the school, Tanya was off to the side talking to
some volleyball players until she caught sight of Brook. Without hesitation, the girl from her
literature class quickly ran over to them and tackled Brook out of Harry's hold and into one of
her own.

Already used to the excessive touches and holds from Harry, Brooklyn didn't fight what was
clearly normal teenage behavior. She knew what to expect, which helped in not flinching
away.

At this point, the assassin was mostly sure Tanya wouldn't kill her anyways.

"Hey! What's up, Brooklyn!?" Tanya asked enthusiastically, then motioned to the curls on her
hair. A different look from yesterday, more defined, artificially made.

Leaning in close, Tanya whispered, "Think Michelle will like my hair today?"

Brook still thought the only thing MJ cared about was books, but the hopeful look the girl
was giving her actually made Brook lie. She'd actually lied to spare a person's feelings...

"It looks great, I'm sure she will take special note of it today"

It wasn’t the most horrible thing she’d done, of course. Killing was likely atop that list of sins
that would come back to bite her someday, and it's not like Brook herself had a problem with
lying given her espionage training. It was being lied to that Brooklyn despised.

Tanya squealed, "Marvelous! By the way, you look lovely as well! That skirt suits you,
having great legs means you have to flaunt them more often and..."

It was then that Tanya noticed the two boys who stood by her side, watching the exchange.

"Osborn? You're back so soon? What a shame you didn't get lost on your extravagant tip,
drowning in the baths of pure gold at that fancy resort" Tanya snapped, making Brook's eyes
widen when that once cheery expression had shifted so quickly into visible disgust. That was
the opposite of how every other person had reacted to seeing Harry back in school.
Harry didn't seem offended or surprised, and Brooklyn was almost certain nothing could
bother that boy at this point. She'd tackled him earlier, and he'd just laughed it off after all. It
made her all the more curious as to what it would take to make Harry lose it. What would it
take to make that smile vanish?

"Bennett, I see you've met my new friend!" Harry replied, earning a shove from the brunette.

Brooklyn didn’t pay attention to Harry’s feigned stumble, not when his words gave her pause
just as Peter’s had this morning. Friend. He’d called her his friend as if the matter was not up
for debate or further consideration on his part. Had Brooklyn agreed to that without
knowing?

Or perhaps it was part of his nature, to make friends. Everyone at school was certainly
charmed by him, she couldn't think as to why Tanya couldn't find at least one decent quality
in Osborn when even Brooklyn did.

But then Tanya’s next words threatened to make her world stumble without even dealing a
physical blow her way. The hit she could’ve stopped, but Brook was once again reminded of
the power words had over a person. Even her.

"She's my friend too, you know. I met Brooklyn first, and you know I'm not gonna let her
become another one of your disposable playthings because of it" Tanya said, pulling Brook
into a side hug that made her freeze up.

Three friends. The ex-assassin had started off the morning with one new experimental
acquaintance beyond anything she’d ever allow herself to have, which was already a
monumental change in her life. Now she had three!?

Life was so much easier when people ignored her...

Harry predictably laughed, looping an arm around Peter, who stood by Brook's side with a
concerned look. Not at the prospect of Tanya and Harry’s squabbles escalating, Brooklyn
realized, but concern directed at her.

For what reason, she wasn’t sure. Peter couldn't possibly know how monumental this
moment was for her, couldn't even imagine the reasons why all of this was making her
stumble over her own instincts.

Once MJ and Ned arrived out of nowhere, exchanging good mornings (which made Tanya
beam), the group of six waltzed into the front doors of the school. By the friendly greetings
the newcomers shot her way, the way they included her in their conversations and treated her
as Tanya, Harry, and Peter were…she assumed they thought her a friend too.

It was an odd title, one she thought she’d be the judge of whether people deserved that kind
of trust from her to gain. But for the first time in her life, Brooklyn couldn't help but wonder
if perhaps she was the one unworthy, the one that could not be trusted.

For the first time in her life, Brook walked alone though. She’d strolled into school with
friends.
 Trepidations and Assumptions of the Stark Name
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Peter Parker POV-

Even as he tried to focus on the set of math problems before him, his mind drifted off to
Brooklyn, not an uncommon thing nowadays. Not when she’d literally fallen into his life,
and since then, he’d questioned many things in life.

Though Brooklyn had changed into a passivity much different that the person she’d been the
first time they'd met, Peter still worried she'd do something she wasn't supposed to. It
wouldn't entirely be her fault of course. Being Mr. Stark's daughter brought a lot of attention,
both bad and good. It must be awful to have the whole world point their eyes at you, not
being able to hide behind a mask as he did as Spider-man.

After dinner yesterday, he and May had ended up watching TV before he had to leave for
patrols. Most channels were still talking about the girl two doors down, and some of those
comments hadn't been so nice.

She's probably just a spoiled brat living off her daddy's money.

I expected Tony Stark's daughter to be more beautiful, but look at those photos from the mall,
she looks like she hasn't slept in days!

Peter felt a kind of frustration that only took hold of him rarely in life, he’d almost wanted to
at the screen that the girl they were so callously judging had just been shot by a foreign
weapon mere days prior. Of course she looked exhausted!

Whether consciously or not, he'd been eyeing her injury just in case ever since that first day
he’d seen her at school, but Brooklyn seemed as if the injury wasn’t even there to begin with.

That night on the couch, May had been the one who actually screamed the complaints at the
screen. His aunt was always the more expressive of the two.

It came as no surprise when his aunt had rushed to defend Brooklyn, whoever uselessly. Peter
had phoned May days ago and told her everything that had occurred from the moment the
teen jumped out the window, to the hack against the compound. At this point, May probably
knew more about the real Brooklyn than most.

"You know, Pete," his aunt had mused, "The way you described her, I thought she'd be
different. But she was kind and respectful today. That girl has beautiful table manners too,
and she even helped out with the dishes! I find it hard to believe she's an assassin as you
mentioned"
Peter had been shocked too by Brook’s behavior as soon as she walked into his apartment.
During the meal, he could tell she was confused, maybe a little apprehensive. But May
warmed up to Brook, creating an easy flow of conversation Mr. Stark’s daughter could follow
without uncomfortable topics. It even got to the point that Brooklyn finally looked as if she
wasn't waiting for one of them to attack her.

Not exactly trust, but something akin to it.

"I think she still hates Spider-man, but she doesn't mind Peter Parker all that much" he'd
replied, eyeing the backpack lazily tossed on the ground, one containing his hero suit.

How could that girl hate him but also not hate him?, he’d thought curiously.

It was odd too since his life tended to be the other way around. People loved Spider-man,
trusted him with their lives, but not many even cared to look Peter Parker's way. Yes, it was
odd, but in a strangely flattering way.

"Maybe she was on edge with her new dad around. Someone of her background would be
apprehensive of heroes, right? Maybe in time, she'll warm up to the hero inside of you too"
May assured him, ruffling his hair, "I still can't believe they left her to live alone"

Peter frowned at the wall to his right as if he could use x-ray vision like Superman to see two
doors down. An ability the radioactive spider that had bitten him years ago had not granted
Peter with, unfortunately.

"She insisted on that part, actually. I don't think Brooklyn would have liked living in the
compound with everyone" he said while keeping an open ear to the comments on TV.

Did you see how apart they were from each other? Maybe Tony Stark hates his daughter,
after all, that's why we’ve never seen her.

That girl is just a kid, why are we all talking about someone so unimportant? Let's get to
actual news!

May turned off the TV rather dramatically, after throwing the remote to the beanbag in the
corner of the space, she cast a worried look out the window.

"When I looked into Brooklyn’s eyes today like they taught me in yoga class, all I saw was a
shell of a person, someone who felt empty. Pete…I hope she'll at least get some friends, no
kid deserves this" May turned to the only photo of Peter's parents settled atop the coffee
table. A man and woman happily holding a giggling baby in a lush meadow of sunflowers.

"No kid deserves to grow up with so much pain, to do so alone," his aunt added.

When May embraced him, he'd clung to her, even when she fussed over his black eye which
should be mostly healed in a few days.

Peter knew what it was like to live without parents, and he could only hope that one day,
Brooklyn would understand how lucky she was to have a dad in her life. Tony Stark was a
good man, the closest thing to a father figure Peter had ever gotten.
But like May said, he knew Brooklyn’s life would be difficult from now on, even if she
refused to show it. He'd seen her cringe at the mention of Tony on multiple occasions that
day, had seen her overwhelmed state when she looked at the masses at school and on the
streets.

Maybe it would take a long while for things to settle down after all...but that didn't mean she
had to go through it alone.

When Peter came back later that night from an uneventful patrol, he'd noticed the lights of
her apartment were still on. Though he knew it was wrong, Peter had dared a peek through
her main window, hating himself for invading her privacy...but he needed to make sure she
was safe.

Brooklyn HAD been safe, lazily lounging on her couch. It was in that fire escape, through
that large window that Peter noticed her blank expression as she watched the very news
stories he and May had been tuning into earlier. Brooklyn sat there, listening to the slander
about her with no emotion, taking it all in as if it didn't matter.

It had given him pause.

Despite how calm she looked, he'd heard the way her hands were clutching her phone rather
violently. He'd seen her fingers twitch when her father-daughter relationship with Mr. Stark
was made fun of or put into question. For the few minutes he'd hug around, the hero had also
become very aware of what her world revolved around.

Papers scattered all around her, of weapons, criminal records...things a teen should not be
dealing with. Maybe it was the darkness of the room, but she'd looked far older then, more
tired and angry than any kid their age should be. He'd know that better than most.

Even if Brooklyn was somewhere around school right now passively listening to a boring
lecture, Peter worried any of those phrases or sentiments from the news would be repeated
here. Kids could be mean, Peter knew that better than most as well. It was the blows caused
by words rather than fists that Peter was worried about...not just because she was Mr. Stark's
daughter and he'd asked Peter to look after her, but also because she was now his friend.

Eventually, the bell finally rang, and despite the fact that the noise was still too loud for his
heightened senses to handle, Peter brushed off the pain and headed out of class, straight for
the locker rooms clutching his backpack in hand as he rushed towards his own. Changing out
of his clothes in record time…he elected to keep the black jacket on. Not to stifle the cold,
which hadn't bothered him as strongly since his change of senses, but because it was the
article of clothing Brook had gifted him that morning.

‘Assassins are naturally-made selfish creatures though such a trait is not inherently evil’, Ms.
Natasha had said a few days ago while Brooklyn had still been in the med bay and the secret
of her true identity had been revealed, ‘If we possess something we care about, we will
protect it with our lives because having things is not something we grew up with. If we have
something we cherish, we will never give up on that something whether it be a person or a
simple everyday object’
'But you share your popcorn with me on movie nights', Peter had argued curiously, his food
long forgotten since the words Brooklyn and Stark had been put in the same sentence.

He’d likely never forget the smile Ms. Natasha had shot his way, a gaze of fondness traveling
across the table full of heroes as the Black Widow had explained, ‘It took me a while, but
eventually, I was able to put my beliefs aside to dare and give in to possibly the most human
instinct all of us are born with. No matter our training, every human longs for meaningful
connections. Brooklyn may dare travel that path tomorrow, or maybe twenty years from now,
but one day she will cling to things or people and will keep them safe in even the most
mundane of ways.

Peter had wondered, no, he hoped that this morning had been a sign that perhaps his offer of
friendship had been a step in that direction. He’d wanted to believe that the simple article of
clothing keeping the cold away was a sign that Brooklyn wanted to not only dare trust him…
but his friends too.

When he made it to the gym in record time, other students barely began filing in, but Peter
didn't pay them much mind as he settled down next to his best friend, who was patiently
waiting at the bleachers.

Ned was one of the lucky few to have a prior class close to the gym, so he was always early.
Today that was a great thing, considering they had a lot to talk about and not enough time.
They’d had none yesterday, and Peter was desperate to remedy that.

"Wow, are you ok?" Ned asked, watching Peter crash onto the bleacher next to him
ungracefully.

Peter knew he had to catch Ned up to speed, not necessarily on the stuff that had happened at
the Avengers Compound, but of what occurred yesterday. So he did so quietly, sharing the
details of the walk to Delmar's, his new neighbor, and the walk to school with Harry this
morning.

"Isn't it so cool you work for Tony Stark, and you're his daughter's friend? That's so sick!"
Ned said, completely missing the point Peter was trying to make.

Pete frowned, keeping his enhanced ears focused on the passing students as they settled down
on lower benches.

"Didn't you hear the part about Flash's friends?"

Ned shrugged, tugging at the collar of his P.E. shirt, "I don't think that matters all that much,
Pete. Harry's back, and he keeps the football team in check from messing with you, I'm sure
he'll extend the same courtesy to Brooklyn. He seemed friendly with her this morning"

It was true. Harry was a hard person not to like, even if he did make a few girls upset every
now and then with his tendency to shift attention quickly, never lingering on one casual
relationship for too long. Even Brooklyn, the assassin, had at least kept pleasant conversation
with him.
"They both have some things in common, in fact, I'm hoping he'll be able to help her out"
Peter admitted, noticing as MJ and Brooklyn emerged from the main doors below.

As always, MJ had a book in hand, one different from yesterday. The only difference from
any normal day was that now Michelle was actually talking to someone for once. When the
girls made their way to the same spots from yesterday beside them, both shot the boys simple
greetings before going back to their conversation.

"The Adolescent is pretty good," MJ said, "I read it last year, it's written by Fyodor
Dostoevsky's"

Brooklyn's eyebrows shot up, "A Russian author?"

MJ nodded, "It's about the battles between the "old" way of thinking in the 1840s, the new
nihilistic point of youth of 1860s Russia. It's in the school library if you're interested"

Peter knew Brooklyn was at least part Russian, he'd gotten that from her hidden curses days
ago, and the fact that she allegedly grew up where Ms. Romanoff did. A part of Brook she
didn't seem completely happy about.

The way the Avengers had whispered about that particular fact didn't make it seem like it was
a good thing either. Peter worried that Brooklyn was thinking back to those days in her
motherland at the mention of a mere Russian author. Wondered if such memories were too
unpleasant to linger on.

So just in case, he intervened by changing the subject, " We still have two more trials of the
Captain America challenge, right?"

That finally swayed the conversation away, both Ned and MJ frowning at the prospect of the
final tests. When they had all done them last year, it was always the second day that brought
on the more…labor-inducing tasks.

Ned leaned over Peter's frame to speak to Brook, "Mr. Willson almost slept through this part
last year. He hates seeing us run for no reason but he will know if you skip a lap, don’t let his
closed eyes deceive you"

Brooklyn agreed with a hum, "I had him as my teacher for detention. He doesn't seem very
enthusiastic about a lot of things. I think he was more upset about presiding over detention
than I was about getting it"

"Peter had detention a few times last year, he said the same thing!" Ned added.

The Stark actually smirked, now eyeing Peter with feigned interest as she mocked, "You got
detention, you of all people? What did you do Parker? Create Frankenstein during Chemistry
class?"

MJ shut her book, and her bland voice answered before Peter could stop her, "He ditched the
USAD last year, earning himself weeks of detention. Though I’d say he was lucky not to get
expelled"
Brooklyn's eyes widened, "You guys went to the Academic Decathlon? I was there too. Now
that I think about it, you guys were the school that won, right? No wonder the principal
motioned this school had the best team, I thought he was just exaggerating"

Brooklyn had been there!? They could have been in the same building before even knowing
each other! How crazy was that?

Ned beamed, "Yes we did! Though we would have likely done better if Peter had been able to
attend, because he was busy...with a family thing"

Nice save Ned...

"My school got third place, lost to you guys and that local school from Washington DC. The
topic was such bull that year, space exploration...and my captain wouldn’t let me help too
much since the parents of some rich kids wanted more spotlight. It was a mess"

They all nodded. Even if Peter had not been there because he was stuck at the most secure
facility in the eastern seaboard, he was still upset about the topic, more so now at the subtle
misfortune Brookly had revealed.

Knowing what he did, he assumed Brooklyn hadn’t ever known she’d be crowned a Stark
back then. She hadn’t had parents that bargained for her appearance at the Decathlon, and
based on the peek he got of her old apartment, her lack of income likely made her an easy
target to be pushed aside by her classmates in a school the news had labeled as one for high-
income families.

Had Mr. Stark been her father then, had she played a more important role for her school at the
Decathlon, would Peter’s own school have made it to the finals so easily? He knew the
classes she took and had seen enough of her breezing through yesterday’s lab to know
Brooklyn was as much a genius as Harry claimed Peter to be.

Not to mention Peter was also upset because he’s worked so hard to study for the decathlon!
That had not been a simple feat to do with all his Spider-man duties piled on top of
everything. He'd had to quit the Marching Band and the Robotics Club just to have the time.
After all, the USAD was no small thing...

The Academic Decathlon was a lengthy process to get through, a total of 10 excruciating
events meant to liquefy the minds of most students. Art, Economics, Language and
Literature, Math, Music, Science, and Social Science. It was not only a demanding event, but
an absolutely crazy experience to compete with the best in the country! All of that was on top
of the essay, interview, speech...and the dreaded Super Quiz. Each year, one of the ten
subjects was chosen as the 'Super Quiz', which used a different format than the other events.
That had been the part that Peter had studied for the most, the one Liz had insisted was his
priority.

The topics and theme of the competition were released every year, giving everyone time to
prepare for the challenge. Since Midtown always scored relatively high for this event, the
team had a lot of pressure to excel in all trials. Mostly, Peter had just wanted to impress Liz at
the time AND do his Spider-man duties to stop the Vulture. The important things in life or so
it had seemed like it to him back then.

In the end, it had all been for nothing. But at least his conscience had been eased by the fact
that Midtown won without him. MJ had been their saving grace, a hidden wild card that truly
shone in the end.

A wonderful one too.

"Had the chosen theme been Physics, we would have been in trouble. That's Peter's expertise"
MJ added, shooting Peter a frown to signify she’d yet to forget last year’s betrayal. Likely
why she hounded him during practice to ensure such an absence would not occur again.

Ned, as always, came to the rescue, "We all knew they wouldn't have physics two years in a
row! Besides, you got us the win MJ! It all worked out!"

MJ looked past both boys, meeting Brooklyn's gaze, "You were from Adelphi Academy then.
They did really well in the first stages, we'll be lucky to have you on the team. Maybe this
year my team won't almost die at the Washington Monument at least"

Peter recalled the happenings of that day, how he'd barely made it in time to save his friends.
The weight of the elevator he'd carried, the wind against the fabric of his suit when he broke
through that window at the very top of the monument...and the feeling of strong metal
support beams against his skin when he fell all the way down the elevator shaft.

"You guys were the kids that almost died? I saw it on the news when I made it back home"
Brooklyn mused, and Peter watched with curiosity as she scanned their bodies, as if looking
for remaining injuries.

Did that mean she cared? Oh, he sure hoped so!

Ned happily replied, "Spider-man saved us though! No harm done!"

That quickly, a frown returned to Brooklyn's face, no doubt by the mention of his alter ego,
who she clearly still hated...

Thankfully, Mr. Willson walked in that second. Same green cap, shirt, and shorts as the first
day of High School back in their freshman year, likely long before that. Unmistakable frown
on display, the teacher had a hand in one of the pockets of his gray jacket, Peter could get a
hint of the faint scent of pizza rolls within it, even so high up on the bleachers.

As always, the man got straight to the point, sending everyone into pairs to do some leg
stretches before the long run ordered by Captain Rogers. A run every student across the
country took in his name.

MJ surprised them all when she asked Brooklyn to be her partner, and Peter couldn't help but
gawk when the young Stark actually agreed, both heading down together to claim a mat. It
was an unspoken agreement that Peter and Ned would team up, and they quickly claimed the
mat next to the girls.
He'd decided to assist Ned first, pushing his back while his friend's legs stretched as far as
they could go. Brooklyn was doing the same with MJ, though they were both putting in
minimal effort, still discussing some of Michelle's favorite reads to pass the time.

At that moment, Brooklyn seemed...so docile, and calm, just like everyone else. Peter wasn't
worried she'd attack anyone, and there was no sign of hatred in those shining brown eyes so
like Mr. Stark’s. The eyes of a hero.

Maybe everyone at the compound had been right, going to school would be a good thing for
Brooklyn. A chance to live a life she’d been denied, a way to find the girl underneath the
grief and past.

When it was time to switch with their partners, Peter noticed Brook looking around the room,
noticing how everyone still had their eyes on her. As the new student, that attention would
likely stick for the next few weeks, at least until something like the upcoming football game
would distract them.

Thankfully, Brook chose not to linger on that for now, just shrugged and turned back to her
assigned task. No killing, no anger. All good signs in Peter’s book.

As always, Peter took care to not let his true strength show, barely reaching up to his knees
despite having the capabilities for so much more. Ned understood the need for secrecy and
didn't force it any further, even when Mr. Willson asked Peter to try a little harder. Beside
him though, Peter was one of the first witnesses to Brooklyn's surprising flexibility. She was
practically doing the splits while touching her foot with her head! When MJ noticed her
assistance wasn't needed, she merely went back to her book.

During the trials, which Brook also breezed by with little trouble, Peter wondered if this is
what her first SHIELD training would feel like today. Beholding a girl with hidden abilities
breeze through any task thrown her way the way Ms. Natasha did despite having no enhanced
abilities as Peter was blessed/cursed with.

At that moment, he'd almost forgotten Brooklyn was a skilled assassin just by watching her
interact with his friends. Despite his hope for nothing but goodness in her heart, he wondered
what other secret skills she could be hiding.

Brooklyn POV-

Her second day wasn't as troublesome as the first.

She'd gotten through her classes with ease, paying attention to lessons every now and then
not because she struggled with the topics, but in the hopes that time would go by faster if she
did. Brook had even gotten the hang of her locker, creating a decent route to all her classes,
and thankfully, not getting into a single fight.

Like the day before, Brook had spent a portion of Literature just talking with Tanya in the
back of the room while the teacher read. Her classes spent with no company from her
morning group had gone by the slowest, but her note-taking had kept them interesting. She'd
even gotten through the rest of the Captain America Fitness Challenge, and spent the whole
time with Peter's friends.

It was a surprisingly pleasant time. The ease and peace of it all.

At some point during her next class, Calculus, she'd gotten a text from her otets. She'd
honestly been shocked he hadn't sent the SWAT team when she refused to text him last night.

Today's message showed some discontent about that particular fact, but it was relatively
passive.

Would appreciate it if you let me know you weren't killed walking home.

Happy said he'd pick you up at four. Don't be late, Fury will get, well...furious.

The Avengers and Pepper wish you a good day at school, I guess I do too.

She'd been in the middle of texting back when the math professor suddenly called out her
name.

"Miss Stark, are you paying attention? Or are you too busy admiring yourself on your phone
screen?" the teacher said, an old man who looked like wrinkled paper with a patch of black
hair, one who clearly had nothing better to do than humiliate students to try and make himself
feel better.

She suspected he’d been picked on as a kid, and this was his twisted revenge. Pathetic.

What was his name again? Mr. Abercorn?

He was standing before her desk with arms crossed, clear view of the phone on her lap.
Brook had deemed it sufficient that her red curls covered it from sight of her peers, but she
hadn't considered her nosy teacher.

Turning off the screen, she put the new phone away and looked the teacher in the eye. She
wasn’t Peter Parker after all, Brooklyn didn’t let herself be jostled by those that thought
themselves above her. Unless that person was Pepper, or Fury (who had the power of
blackmail to aid him).

"I have been paying attention sir, I was just checking if my phone was on silent" Brook lied
confidently. Trying to seem the least menacing as possible to avoid another visit to the office.

The professor frowned, handing her a piece of chalk. More like threw it on her desk.

"Mind solving one of the problems on the board then?" he snapped.

By now, everyone in class was staring in anticipation, the guy next to her even dared to
whisper, "You're so screwed"

Brook almost debated the merits and setbacks of crushing the chalk with her hand, but that
would only help fuel the rumors that had been going around lately. Rumors she’d become
aware of today alongside speculations of her and Harry being a couple. That she was nothing
but a spoiled brat with far too much money and too little intelligence to have made it to this
school fairly.

So Brooklyn quickly snatched the chalk from the table, and as soon as she went to the front
of the room and examined the problems before her, she almost laughed.

She'd learned and mastered this as a seven-year-old. Continuous Functions, what a joke.

In seconds, Brook had coated her fingers with the white powder from the chalk as she let it
fly across the board, and her answer was carefully circled in seconds.

Turning back to look at her teacher, she had to fight back a smile when the cruel man beheld
the answer. He crossed his arms in defiance, "You did one of the easy ones. Why don't you
try the more difficult ones to the right? That's what I was just discussing right now after all"

Trying hard to embarrass her, huh? Brooklyn had noticed the man's dislike towards her
yesterday, but intimately decided to ignore it after deeming it useless where dangers were
concerned. Though this particular teacher didn't seem to be overly nice to any student in
particular, he seemed to have it out for her. Either because she was new, or because she was
well known.

Some kid by the front tables scoffed, then whispered to his buddy, "The pretty face is gonna
figure that out? No way"

If it were possible, smoke would be coming out of Brook's ears with all the restrained anger
she was barely keeping in check. Still, the ex-assassin shrugged, worked out the stupid
problem with the ease most practiced while breathing, and then set the chalk on the board a
little louder than she should have.

Turning back to the teacher and her classmates, the girl strode back to her desk confidently,
daring any of them to challenge her again.

It hadn't occurred to Brooklyn that some students might doubt her skills academically, likely
attributing to something about her being a Stark. It was a similar way of thinking the news
seemed to have about her. Last night she'd heard just about everything, amongst those
comments, there had been some jokes about Brook's likely lack of intelligence since she was
a child shielded by the benefits of riches.

Let it be the beginning then, in this small and idiotic Calculus class, of proving that she was
anything but.

At least that had been that. She wasn't called on again after that, likely would not be for the
rest of the term...and the teacher made a great effort to go out of his way to ignore her for the
rest of the lesson. A victory.

Thankfully, she'd had time in Engineering to calm her mind from the insults, and reluctantly
reply back to her otets after much mental debate. Nothing too extravagant of course.
I won't be late.

Her first text for him. Sadly, probably not her last.

An hour later, lunch had been a little more crowded than the day prior. Ned, Peter, and MJ
had been waiting at the same table. But this time, MJ had bothered sitting closer to them,
which Tanya was very excited about. Apparently, just the fact that she could occasionally
bump shoulders with the target of her affections was enough to send Tanya on cloud nine. An
amusing scene to distract the ex-assassin from the gossip.

Harry had also joined them today, claiming the seat next to Peter, from which he could see
the whole room. In the duration of lunch, he'd eyed at least three girls, and claimed that at
least he had new dates for the next few days to fill his evenings with.

The girls on the other side of the table collectively came to the agreement to throw their
cookie wrappers at the boy to deflate his ego a bit. After Brook had done it, and everyone at
the table was filled with laughter, the girl realized that was the first time she worked in sync
with someone that wasn't from the Red Room. However ridiculous.

It had felt nice, to do something so stupid and then be free to laugh about it, even more so
when one of the propped-up posters behind the boys suddenly came loose, and it fell on top
of them.

She'd still been laughing about it on her walk to Chemistry with Peter and Harry.

Turns out, they were a crazy good team too. Peter mostly handled the calculations for the
day's work, Brook's steady hands handled the physical aspects of the lab, and Harry (who'd
somehow managed to get into this high-level class despite showing no care for it) worked out
the writing for the lab reports. Though there were times she'd still felt the need to do
everything herself, Brook thought back to the successful teamwork at the cafeteria and let it
fuel her to relent some of the responsibility, almost breathing out a sigh of relief when they
were given a perfect score.

After she and Peter survived an hour of Spanish after that, the new group of classmates
somehow ended up meeting by Brook's locker once the last bell rang. They had conversed
over the day's events till they reached the massive school gates, something friends apparently
did.

Even though they all needed to go separate ways, Harry insisted they go to a nearby cafe to
celebrate Brook's arrival at school. Why that needed to be celebrated, she had no clue, but
everyone else quickly agreed to his suggestions as if it were obvious they attend.

It was barely 2:45, Brook had time to kill before Grumpy came for her, so she'd relented after
some hopeful gazes from Tanya and a puppy dog stare from Peter.

These people were going to be the death of her.

So against all odds, Brooklyn actually went out with friends for the first time in her life.
She'd listened to their stories as they walked, tried not to flinch when they insisted on taking
photos to remember the occasion, and she'd even dare to say....it wasn't the worst experience
of her life.

The walk had been short, and the place had been rather small but cozy in a sense, one with a
feminine touch that breathed safety.

Even though Harry insisted he'd pay for everyone, they all found themselves picking out the
cheapest stuff after putting some tables together by the windows of the establishment. The
macchiatos had been decent despite the price, and the giant plate of dried-up pastries
somehow tasted better that way. It was at that moment that the ex-assassin finally learned
what it was like to be out with a group of friends, and perhaps it was their kindness that
unsettled something in her.

These people had no idea who they'd invited, no clue that an assassin was in their midsts.
Suddenly, it felt as though lying to them was a crime, and the thought of that had been like a
stone in the back of her head.

But...they always managed to stray her from its pressuring weight. Whether it be with jokes,
Ned and Peter throwing bread pieces at each other's mouths across the table with surprising
accuracy, or even Tanya's attempts to flatter MJ...it made her feel...calmer.

At some point during the conversation, Harry had motioned around the room proudly.
Despite the cheap food, chipping paint off the table, and smell of mothballs, he'd leaned back
on his chair with contentment and said, "My friends, THIS is the height of luxury!"

Peter laughed, wiping crumbs off his face as he replied, "You live in a mansion, Harry. This
is hardly that, not even close"

Harry hadn’t hesitated to claim this was better, and in some way...Brook found herself
agreeing. Though she'd often hated interacting with others, this was a shining rare jewel in
life.

Many jokes continued to be exchanged, and Brook had even taken part in some of them.
She'd also witnessed Tanya bite down on her foam cup, almost breaking the thing when MJ
handed her a napkin with a pastry.

When Brook accidentally made eye contact with Harry, he'd nodded knowingly.

Harry knew then.

No doubt he'd tease Tanya about her crush in his free time when MJ wasn't around. The
playful animosity between the two became very apparent in this extra time away from
school... apparently, it stemmed from some sports disagreement from their youth.

Eventually, when the clock struck 3:30, Brooklyn had begun to panic. She'd assumed initially
that going somewhere with classmates would be a quick stop, but now if she didn't book it,
Happy would most certainly turn into Grumpy for real. So the ex-assassin quickly stood up,
rapidly placing her backpack over her shoulder rather clumsily. Despite her common
character, Brooklyn actually apologized to her friends, saying she had to return back home
right about now.

None of them were angry, if anything, they helped her gather her things and made Brook
swear to be careful on her way back. It was a silly sentiment, but Brook promised to be safe
nonetheless, if only to ease their sudden panic.

"I can walk you if you want," Peter offered, "I have to be going back home soon as well"

Brooklyn waved him off, "I'm gonna have to go at the speed of light to get back on time. You
don't need to strain yourself on my behalf"

After all her things were gathered and she'd made sure to leave a few dollar bills for her meal
despite Harry's complaints, she waved to the group, promising to see them tomorrow if
her...dad...didn't kill her for being late for something she elected to keep vague so as to not lie
further. A strange effort on her part.

Harry asked Brook to say hi to her father for him, and she didn't bother telling him that she
might not even see Anthony Stark at all, before rushing to the front door after thanking the
lady behind the counter for the meal.

Brook didn't see if her classmates stayed in the establishment or not, she just busted out of the
Java Lava and ran as fast as she could down the streets she'd now memorized. No use trying
to use the metro when she wasn't sure if any of them would lead her home on time.

People would occasionally notice her passing form, but Brook didn't care, she'd booked it to
the front gate of her complex, feeling like her lungs were on fire. Seconds after she'd
collapsed against the rusty gates of her apartment complex, a black Audi pulled up slowly
beside her. Almost mockingly.

Happy lazily rolled down the passenger window, bringing down his shades in judgment as he
stared at her panting form.

"Was it that exhausting coming down the stairs?" he asked with a smile. Not a happy one, but
one full of playful teasing.

Instead of hole-punching his lip with the stick shift, Brook got into the car and was welcomed
once again by the Downton Abbey soundtrack and smell of clean car freshener. She'd
fastened her seatbelt with difficulty thanks to her anger, then tossed her backpack
unceremoniously in the back seats where she should have chosen to settle down.

Brook was much too close to Happy's judgmental gaze from the front seat.

The man casually pulled his sunglasses back into place and rolled the windows with the click
of a button. In no time, the car had joined the others down the street, and as she watched the
gates and buildings of her new home vanish...she couldn't help but wonder if Peter would get
home ok.
That kid was probably still the target of Flash's attention, even if the bully had been rather
docile today. During History, she'd still felt his gaze on her, but during lunch and after school
he hadn't dared approach either Peter or Brook.

It was the memory of Peter's still bruised eye, even when not as visible as before, that was
unsettling her. What if by tomorrow, he showed up with a fresh one? What if he didn't return
at all, May would be too busy looking for him and Brook would be too far away to assist...

Wait...

Why did she care if Peter made it home or not?

Was it because they were friends all of the sudden, those were just words after all. Brook
elected to blame it on him being so weak, of course, she would worry when anything from a
lamp post to a rock on the ground could kill the poor nerd.

"What's got you frowning so much, kid? You know, you kind of look like Tony when you do
that" Happy asked, turning down the music slightly.

Look like him…

Brook answered far too quickly, aiming for a casual tone, but missed it by a few inches as she
replied, "It's nothing. And don't compare me to Stark unless you want some of your
appendages missing from the rest of your body"

The man didn't take his gaze off the road, but he acknowledged her words with a chuckle.

"I heard you got in trouble at school. Must not have been all that bad since Tony seemed ok
with it, even Fury couldn't seem to care less" Happy said, "Already beating up all school
bullies, or thinking of becoming one?"

She so did not want to have a casual conversation with Happy of all people. Especially since
all her words would likely be reported back to his master.

"It was a minor altercation. Nothing worthy of attention" Brook insisted, eyeing the passing
streets with feigned interest even when there was nothing interesting from the people making
their way down the sidewalks. They were innocents, the weak in need of protection…Ivan’s
collateral damage.

On the passenger's side, Happy tapped the steering wheel along to the calm melody.

"Don't worry, once we get back to the compound, you'll be able to beat up anyone you want
without school repercussions" he said.

For once in their short acquaintance, Happy provided Brook with some good news. School
and the concept of friends might be things out of her comfort zone, but fighting and training
were the things she was born doing.

This would be Brooklyn in her element, at last.

 So, for the next three hours, Brooklyn sat in silence, content to be taken away to the place
she'd not long ago hoped never to see again. Maybe she didn't adore being an assassin, but
she was very good at it, and she'd show them all just how good.

It would be a different kind of victory from her squabble in Calculus class because it had a
purpose other than the strengthening of a simple high school reputation. This would be her
reputation amongst a higher circle, that of her otets and his precious cluster of heroes.

No one would doubt her skills from this day forth. Even if the news channels could not
witness it, she'd show the few agents present that Brooklyn Stark was anything but a spoiled
daddy's girl or someone with no knowledge in her brain.

She’d been raised a warrior, a superior fighter amongst deadly killers. Whatever trial they
threw Brooklyn’s way would be nothing but a stepping stone towards a path of victory. After
all, Brook had never failed a test…she wasn’t planning on starting now.

Chapter End Notes

Next will finally be Brooklyn's first encounter with the SHIELD Academy!

Keep in mind that at this point in the story, the ex-assassin is driven by one thing,
proving herself to those around her. Though Brook acts as if what people say doesn't
affect her, it does in a sense, even though she's having trouble grasping it. She'd always
been so sure of herself, knew exactly who she was, but now her classmates and the
world are formulating opinions about her that she just can't shake. Back in the Red
Room, adults often spoke about her flaws to her during training, so she grew up letting
the words of others mold her opinion of herself. That might have some interesting
consequences in the future. Just something to consider.

As always, remember to smile today, talk with friends, and stay safe.
 S.H.I.E.L.D Training
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

The SHIELD Building was just a few steps from the main Avengers compound, a mammoth
monument that was hard to miss seeing as it was the second biggest structure at the
Compound. Brook had seen it during her last visit, but she’d failed to remember that she
could throw a paper from its doors and it would land at her otets' doorstep. An unsettling
thought now that Brook dared to think about it, seeing as she wasn’t keen on seeing the man.

From the outside, the SHIELD building where her training would take place looked like
every other notable building in the vicinity, a window-full structure in a weird decorative
shape. It possessed multiple floors no doubt housing the remainders of the government
organization, and up close, she could tell it had expansive security measures.

After their silent three-hour trip, Happy had driven her to the front door and instructed Brook
to leave her stuff in the car and just head in. She'd reluctantly done so in fear her belongings
would be tampered with, but then realized she had nothing of sentimental value in the
backpack but school notes Happy could steal if he felt like it.

Brook still had her SHIELD pager, phone, and Stark watch in person, and as sad as it was to
say, those were probably her most prized possessions at this point in her life. Two of those
items were gifted to her by Stark…the other, issued by Fury himself.

Just as quickly as they'd parked before the looming structure that obscured the cloudy skies,
Happy hit the gas pedal and headed over to the main building where all the Avengers were
likely lounging, probably unaware or uncaring of Brooklyn's first day at the Academy.

"Chyort voz'mi" she whispered to herself. Hell.

Brook assumed Happy would walk her into the building at least, or that there would be
someone waiting on standby to tell her what to do. But now, standing outside an unknown
and busy building like a statue, Brooklyn began to wonder if this was meant to be some kind
of test. To see if she’d dare go inside as her orders demanded.

In her previous training academy, every act and decision had been a test, why should this be
any different?

Still, none of the files she'd been given had said much of the ways of the SHIELD Academy,
files which she’d checked again and again for clues on the ride across the New York
countryside. Most rules she'd studied had been for the general use of anyone within the
Avengers Compound.
Though she knew that there were many trials ahead, Brook had no clue how Fury would go
about them. Tragically, she’d been foolish in speaking freely with the Director during their
last encounter, had she been wiser and tried to be kinder to him, maybe she wouldn't be
standing in the middle of an ocean of people coming and going into the foreboding building
that held the fate of her future.

For all she knew, this COULD be like the Red Room after all, and failure to fulfill her
training would most certainly cause a very unpleasant jail sentence Tony Stark would likely
not argue against if he heard her charges. He could always ask Pepper to put out another
‘Stark fire’ and erase her from the knowledge of the public peacefully.

What surprised her was that, unlike the last time Brooklyn had been around here, the people
passing by didn't just stare at her...they made a point to greet her. Not the way she liked.

"Hello, Miss Stark," a tall man in a black suit said, his party of bow ties and briefcases
echoing the greeting.

A group of SHIELD trainees, all in eagle-crested sports attire, wished her luck on her first
day as they ran into the building. Someone had even patted her on the back in what they
must’ve assumed served as encouragement.

The clusters of individuals all made their way inside the metal doors without a second
thought, doors which brook noted were not glass like back in the compound. These doors
were reinforced with sturdy steel despite their size, and like the Avengers floor, all visible
windows were tinted pitch black. The only thing Brook could see from her place standing
stupidly outside was a massive main hallway that led to a desk surrounded by bulletproof
glass.

Not sure where exactly she was supposed to go, Brooklyn swallowed her unease and made
her way inside the cold building, suddenly happy she'd kept on her black coat regardless of
who’d bought it for her and the fact that the car ride had been slightly stuffy with it on.

Scanning her surroundings as she’d been taught, Brook quickly noticed little things, like the
fact that the majority of people in this building were all dressed in tight black suits, most of
them so focused on their tasks in hand that they barely acknowledged her. Unlike the Red
Room, there was no way to distinguish ranks by clothes alone, but she could tell by the look
in their eyes who was a veteran, and who was just starting to take their first steps here.

Only the agent trainees paid Brook any mind as she meandered by, each of the bright-eyed
men and women waving enthusiastically her way as if they viewed her as one of their own,
and once again wishing her luck with a genuineness Brooklyn had no idea what to do with.

How did everyone know what she was here for? Had Fury done this on purpose? But most
importantly, how did this place train its people when they were free to act as they wished?

She'd seen more smiles in here than in the seven years of her time in the Red Room academy.
Brooklyn had even heard jokes between agents in passing, back in the Red Room you only
spoke if given permission to do so and one certainly wouldn't have bothered speaking to
fellow sestras.
Even if the dark walls and simple marble floors gave a somber feel to the place, people
seemed generally content with the work that they did. The men and women behind the main
desk seemed to be in a pleasing mood too, even when their jobs must be straightforward to
the point of boredom.

No one was here against their will, Brooklyn realized. That likely made her the first.

As Brook walked deeper into Fury's domain, she also noticed the place was relatively well-
lit, not at all like the shadowed and flickering halls of the Red Room. That was already a
plus, perhaps even a small relief.

At the main desk, she noted the outfits of the workers were different, simple navy blue suits.
These people weren't agents then, but they did control the elevators around the hall walls…
hell, everything had to be controlled behind the glass screen. There were many monitors and
control panels, far too many to confidently say leaving this building would be easy.

So why were these individuals trusted with holding the fort, Brook wondered.

The lady closest to Brook stopped her typing and turned to her with a smile. Her SHIELD
name tag read Sandra. A woman of likely average strength, immaculate pixie-cut hairstyle,
and a smile that was just a little too big for her face.

Not a threat, though Brooklyn would be a fool to assume that about everyone else in this
building.

"Oh! Miss Stark! 7 o'clock, Just in time!" Sandra said, hitting a few keys on her computer
before pressing the small red button on her table.

A small section of the glass separating them lifted itself, leaving a small window from which
Sandra passed Brook a manila folder and a clear bag that contained a black suit of leather and
fabric like the ones she'd seen on the agents walking by behind her.

"Take the elevator to the right, on Level 3, the third door down is the locker room which
should be empty since everyone is training out in the backfield," Sandra said with a wink,
nudging the objects closer with her perfectly manicured hands when Brooklyn hesitated to
grab them.

She still didn’t trust being handed things over by strangers.

"Afterwards, use the card inside the folder to go up to the eighth floor. Director Fury and
Agent Adonis will be waiting for you in training room 8, Miss Stark. Good luck!" Sandra
added, flashing another unsettling smile before lowering the window and going back to her
work.

Adonis? Really?

Since gods were actual beings that existed in today's society, Brooklyn hoped Ares and
Demeter weren't waiting around up there as well. People she could deal with, humans, but
Brook wasn't stupid enough to claim she could stop gods.
Fury wouldn't do that to her right? Test her to that extent?

Despite her rising doubts, Brooklyn did as she was told, trying her best to ignore any random
individuals as she went along with her business. Once in the spacious locker rooms made for
well over three dozen individuals, she changed into the clothes provided and left the rest of
her previous attire in a locker another worker had assigned her.

Brook slammed it shut before walking over to a mirror in which to inspect herself.

The suit was a little tight but overall comfortable and perfect for training. The color scheme
was annoying her slightly, of course, this thing wouldn't have any comforting bright colors.
At least it was black and not gray, not like the familiar suits of her youth.

She didn't look anything like that girl now save for the same auburn hair. Now, Brook looked
like one of the hundreds of Americans within this building, a trainee for the government
she’d once been meant to destroy.

Pulling her cluster of hair into a tight ponytail, Brooklyn wondered just how angered the Red
Room would be if they could see her now...dressed as the people who had invaded and
destroyed their headquarters nine years ago.

That wasn't her main worry though. Currently, it was this building.

The changing room was protected by three separately patrolled corridors, and what looked to
be an alarm sequence that reset every hour…plus a two-foot steel door for every room on the
third floor. Brook had been trained to calculate escape routes for every room that she entered,
it's just how things were. Yet, this was already a nightmare to try and work out.

Whoever designed this building deserved a medal of honor, or at least being treated to lunch.
SHIELD was more impressive than she'd given them credit for, at least defense wise despite
her run-in with Sandra, the weak link secretary.

By the time the teen swiped her agent card (much like the one she'd received before, but now
this one read Brooklyn Stark), she went over to the elevator to head over to Floor 8.
Unfortunately for her, once the metal doors of the elevator opened, she was greeted with the
sight of the hero she'd seen far too much yet far too little of these past two days.

Chelovek-pauk. Spider-man.

After hearing his name on the streets and in school so much, there was no way Brook would
ever forget his hero name now. He just stood in the middle of the elevator, frozen, staring her
way with artificially widened eyes and that same costume Brooklyn was already sick of
seeing everywhere in her new city.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Brooklyn exclaimed, stepping into the elevator once
again, letting the system scan her hand before an A.I. voice informed her they were indeed
headed to the 8th floor.

Back to the hero, Brook insisted, "Well? Are you gonna answer?"
The hero shuffled from behind her until they stood side to side. Looking up at his masked
face, Brooklyn tried to convince herself that choking a superhuman in an elevator would be
an awful idea. One that would no doubt get her thrown in jail.

Over the beeping sound of floors passing and the soft tickling melodies of the elevator, he
finally replied, "I'm here for training! You are too? Duh, of course you are….I mean, it's
exciting stuff, huh?"

Brooklyn felt many things right now, excitement was barely 2 percent of what she was
currently feeling. Anger and frustration, now those were emotions that Spider-man would not
benefit from, and their percentage continued to rise the longer she was in the cursed elevator.

"We'll see..." Brook muttered as the elevator mercifully stopped and the doors opened with a
cheerful beep. She assumed Spider-man would go his own way and left him standing without
a proper farewell. But when he began walking alongside her, she finally deigned to frown up
at him, daring him to continue down this path.

"I'm walking you to your first day," he said softly despite that deep robotic voice of his, "You
see, I was scared to death my first day all alone and—"

Well, she wasn't scared to death. She was confident, eager to display her strengths...

Even if Brook hadn't done intense training since she was a deadly seven-year-old, her time at
the local gym and a few street fights a month kept her in good shape, honing her skills and
keeping them fresh in her mind.

What luck could she possibly need to pray for?

"I don't think so," Brooklyn interrupted, "go your own way before you come to fear death
once again, this time by my hands"

Despite the warning she spit out, the hero did not budge. If anything, he picked up his pace to
continue walking by her side, this time with a skip in his step. Even when passing agents
stared at both with disbelieving shock, the hero's gaze remained staring down at Brook's stiff
form.

Keeping the people around them that most definitely should not see her committing murder
against one of their own in mind, Brook whispered, "Why do you feel the need to escort me?
Afraid I'll kill someone if you don’t?"

Spider-man chuckled nervously, then whispered back, "Of course not! I don't think you
would ever do that, I just think you might need someone to calm your nerves. Isn't it better to
be angry at me than to be worried about your first day?"

Brooklyn's frown deepened. He was spending this time around her on purpose so she would
be angry instead of nervous? That son of a...

Looking up at his masked face, she couldn't see any of his features, but his artificial eyes
were wide open, seemingly innocent of all ill intent. He’d rather be hated and put his life at
risk by her own wrath than see her…suffer? Just how deeply ingrained were those hero
instincts ingrained into his mind?

Though Brook would never admit it to him, these past few seconds of blinding rage had
quelled her rising nerves. She couldn’t tell if it was a victory on his part against her, or if it
truly had been an unexpected benefit for her.

With a sigh, Brooklyn just let him do whatever he pleased as they made their way to the
blinking door at the end of the broad hallway. The door was labeled as TR 12, and it opened
on its own as soon as it sensed their presence.

As soon as the doors opened, Brook was met with the sight of a large padded room with
matte black walls full of pipes and racks of weapons of all kinds. It had a red glow about it,
and with keen observation, she noted a few scars along the walls but otherwise the room
seemed clean and new.

When Brook walked in, the second thing she noticed was the high roof, along with the
various windows that were a good floor up from the ground. They were also tinted, like
everything else in this cursed building.

Observation rooms, she realized. Like the room Ivan would lounge in as he oversaw the
training of her youth and decided who would meet their end that day. It had to be the first
familiar thing Brook recognized in this entire building, which was by no means a comfort.

Brooklyn briefly wondered if anyone was currently up there, watching her arrive.

That curiosity was short-lived, for two people in dark clothes were already walking her way
confidently, somehow fitting the powerful ambiance of this place.

Beside Brooklyn, the spiderling gave her a thumbs up and squeaked a quick, "You'll do great!
Good luck!"

She wanted to tell him just where he could shove that good luck, but the hero quickly
retreated back out the door just as Fury and the stranger by his side arrived. Fury looked the
same as always, dressed in a black dark trench coat that matched the rest of his clothes, same
as every time she'd met him.

Did Fury own any clothes of different colors? Could he even genuinely smile in pure joy?

On the other hand, the man next to him was a little odd in comparison to all the people
buzzing around the building that Brook had seen. He was more casual in his attire, wearing a
simple gray button-up shirt, black pants, and a pair of spiked gloves only a goth wannabe
would wear. He looked young too, not her age, but close enough to it. Though their
expressions of judgment were rather similar, the stranger’s lighter skin tone got rid of the
momentary theory that he was somehow Fury's son. So what was another young individual
doing here?

When the mystery guy who Brook could only assume was the so-called Agent Adonis,
continued to stare at her with that unwavering serious expression that matched Fury's...that's
when she began putting more effort into analyzing the potential threat.

In some way, the thick dark eyebrows and the hair-up style suited him, and if this were
another time and place, Brook would have dared to call him attractive. At a quick glance,
Adonis appeared of eastern descent, and thanks to all his clothes, Brooklyn couldn't see he
had calloused hands, healed injuries scattered along his arms.

He also had a weapon in hand. That put Brook on edge, not letting her focus on his looks but
rather on his weaknesses and strengths. He was assessing her too, those cold and mysterious
eyes landing on the watch she'd decided not to take off at the last minute. Sure, she disliked
Tony Stark, but his tech was useful. Brook had kept it just in case this was all a trap and they
decided to lock her up, but it would work just fine to pierce a hole through this guy's face.

"Miss Stark," Fury said, interrupting her assessment, "I trust you've been settling down ok?"

Brook finally tore her gaze from the guy, and shot the director a hesitant nod, "It's not an
impossible task...sir"

He nodded briskly, taking out a remote from his leather overcoat. A small thing with only a
few buttons, no larger than the palm of his hand.

With that remote, he motioned toward the guy beside him, "This is Agent Adonis, he'll be
overseeing your examinations today"

Brook smirked as she at last turned back to the guy's dark gaze, and maybe it was the nerves
or wanting to prod for weaknesses, but she taunted, "Adonis? As in the young and
remarkable beauty from Greek mythology? I have to say, I don't really see it"

Adonis didn't frown, he just swung his bent dagger back and forth.

"I prefer to use the meaning of death and resurrection that comes with the name," he said
with a sweet voice that did not go with his image at all, "Today we shall see just where YOU
stand in terms of death, Agent"

It was very often Brooklyn had been threatened with death in the alleyways of the city of
Brooklyn, but very rarely did the assassin actually contemplate the possibility. If that was
meant to be a threat now, then Agent Adonis would see just what he was getting into.

"To the mats, Stark. No matter who your parents are, we won't go easy on you, and no one is
allowed to intervene unless I instruct it. Still think you can handle it?" Adonis instructed,
motioning to the room behind them.

Brooklyn decided to settle into that raging calm that often got her through training back in the
Red Room. It was a hollowness of the heart, driven by a raging flame that wanted blood. Her
stance and expression changed to something more refined and deadly, and when she noticed
Fury and Adonis raise a brow at the change, the girl smirked.

"I wouldn't have it any other way"

Avengers POV-

The whole team was lounging in the room up above the training grounds, most tense or
buzzing with excitement.

They couldn't wait to see Stark Jr. in action.

Thankfully, the windows were tinted, so Brooklyn wouldn't know they were all there
watching her as she fulfilled her tests. Not that they needed to hide, but they hadn't been
invited, so they’d resorted to sneaking in all on their own to see the youngest of their group
start off her path toward 'Avengerhood'.

In all fairness, this had been Tony's idea. It was his worry and endless pacing around the
compound that finally made the team relent to breaking Fury’s unspoken rule to stay put.
Even Pepper had come along, returning back early from Stark Industries for moral support.

Now, everyone was sitting comfortably on a large expanse of couches by the tinted windows
as FRIDAY provided them with the audio from the training room down below.

It had come as little surprise to see the young Stark doing well in terms of ‘manners’. They'd
received a few texts from Peter a few hours prior to the teens' arrival, most of which reported
that she'd been doing quite nicely in school.

Even when Sipper-Man made it to the room, taking off his mask and settling down on the
couch next to Tony, the boy was still beaming at the memories from school, further easing the
knot in Stark's heart. In fact, they were all more than pleased to hear that the young assassin
had made many friends already, and had even relented to go out with them today for some
semblance of normal teenagehood memories.

Such news had made most of the team forget just what kind of person Brooklyn's file said she
was. All except Natasha, who had received the news without relenting anything more than a
worried nod. Even now, the spy was tense where she sat on the couch, something only Clint
noticed amidst the excitement of the room.

Truth be told, most of the Avengers were just expecting to see the Stark learn all the things
they'd had to do when joining SHIELD. As far as trials went, it shouldn't be too bad, right?

Then the gathered group watched as Fury sent Brooklyn to the mats with little to no
explanation. They had all heard when the Director told her to defend herself, even when no
weapons were given. It was standard procedure, everyone in the room had done it. More
recently, Scott, Sam, and Peter had experienced these sets of exercises and were already
flinching at the memory of the pain from their respective first days.

The young girl below did not flinch when the red lights of the room dimmed ever so slightly,
or when blue lasers shot out in all directions, slowly creating holograms of people for the girl
to try and fend off against.

As soon as the buzzer went off, the Avengers excitedly clapped, even when the young girl
wouldn't see their encouragement. Only Tony remained lounging on the couch with a
concerned expression now, something akin to panic rushing through his veins.

Five minutes in...the attitudes of those in the observation room changed.

The ambiance in the room shifted to unexpected awe, especially Nat, which was saying
something.

Peter had superhuman strength and quick reflexes, so the Avengers hadn't been too fazed by
his performance on the first day, especially since he had struggled a bit but made up for it
with witty comments that left the Avengers laughing for days.

But Brook's performance was nothing like that, it was unexpected.

As the girl fought the hologram attackers (with no weapons of their own), her body was
already showing signs of being incredibly flexible and strong. Not once had she faltered, no
matter if the hologram enemy was a human or an alien.

The other Red Room agent in the facility watched as Rosa stood in the middle of the mats,
ready for the next round of enemies with eager anticipation, even when there were still
enemies flickering away from the mat's floor, motionless to simulate death. Natasha watched
closely, more so than the others as she tried to wage just how much the Red Room had taught
the girl meant to surpass her. Nat's training with Ivan had been rough, sometimes nearly
impossible, and it wasn't until now that the spy wondered just what Brook's files meant by
'surpass'.

Apparently, the answer was...they taught her too much too quickly. In a terrifying way, Rosa
was like a shadow of Natasha, with nearly identical fighting styles, the same response times,
and equal ruthless concentration. Brooklyn’s attack positions were perfect, fists high, center
of gravity low, legs bent, like a predator ready to attack.

Anyone in the room could have a simple pose down, what impressed Natasha was the
flawless form in which she performed the systema pose. Every Red Room trainee was taught
the classic Russian martial art, but the young girl had a better grasp of it than Nat
remembered having at the age of seven. Every kick, swing, jab, and punch...they all flowed
with deadly ease. Brooklyn's immobilizing shots, a calculated hit in the hamstring, were
amongst the most painful injuries out there and were performed fiercely.

Yet...Rosa took the immobilizing attacks further by killing the victim afterward, like kicking
a downed man.

Momentum, angle of impact, distance, speed. No wonder she'd taken the spot on the shelf as
Ivan's new favorite trophy. The young girl was a true ballerina with a swaying body made out
of weapons.

Others weren't so appreciative of her flawless form, like Tony for instance, who clutched
Pepper's hand like a lifeline. Not just out of fear that his daughter could get hurt, but also
because he was becoming weary she wouldn't.

The sight of Brooklyn fighting made him...nervous? Guilty?

That son of a bitch Fury had given Brooklyn a harder training program set than other recruits.
Tony knew because he had programmed most of them and knew which of the files were for
beginners. This was something that would be given to Steve or Natasha for training on a day
they felt like putting in some effort.

Yet, Tony’s daughter was handling it with the ease of a veteran Avenger, just not in the way
she was supposed to.

Everyone caught on to that since the first enemy had gone down.

All trainees and Avengers knew this fact subconsciously, that when you trained or were out in
the field, you didn't go for the kill, but to incapacitate. Brooklyn was not doing that at all.
There was something about her that responded to each attack as if it were lethal.

Natasha and Clint quickly argued that from their assassin's experience, it was likely that
Brooklyn’s body was likely not wired to tell the difference between attacks, that her brain
wasn't trained to think in such a merciful way.

It didn't help that the animations of these holograms were very detailed, meant to help the
person training in understanding the severity of their actions by making things feel more real.
Now the amount of detail from injuries caused by Brooklyn became a curse for them to
behold.

With only her hands and body as a weapon, she had killed over 45 humans and 12 aliens in
less than 10 minutes. Never stopping, only wavering slightly after a particularly expressive
body flip, but only Nat and Clint noticed such things. It was likely her injury holding her
back, Natasha thought. Yet, Rosa never paid the pain of said healing injury any mind, and
that wasn't the only pain being bestowed upon the girl too.

Steve was already faltering with his calm posture, even when he'd lay witness to many things
in life. He was horrified, to say the least.

The Captain was no longer sitting on the couch where the rest of the team was. He'd stood up
to lean on the window to get a better view of below at some point, Steve wasn't sure when
that actually happened.

Rogers watched Tony's daughter cruise through the task, and even when Fury decided to
increase the difficulty by changing the holograms to use various weapons, the girl didn't stop.
She actually smirked their way in a way that someone like Red Skull or Rumlow had both
done often when faced with an enemy they were eager to destroy.

It was a killer's smile, one that should not belong to a young girl.

Even when Brooklyn felt the electrical shock of getting 'shot' by a weapon, she shrugged it
off and kept going like it was a simple pinch. Steve had seen grown men like Sam and Tony
be brought down to their knees as soon as the familiar shocks made contact with their bodies.

At first, Steve thought Fury had been considerate enough to lower the intensity of the
electricity, but looking at the readings displayed on the clear screen against the window, it
remained at 10 milliamps. Meant to be painful enough to bring someone to severe shock.

Steve could see it was hurting her, she'd clench her teeth when a hit happened, but she
somehow ignored the pain and kept going. A quick black shadow amongst the blue glow of
the holograms, killing with every efficient move.

The way Brooklyn's eyes sparkled... Steve felt like there was something just barely being
kept in check that could explode at any moment.

Clint, on the other hand, recognized that look. He instantly understood what he was seeing,
likely because it was as familiar to him as looking in the mirror. He could admit Brooklyn
was powerful, whether or not she or anyone else knew just how powerful. Clint could catch
small details too, like how the teen went for more violent and painful kills for aliens and paid
little to no effort toward the humans.

The way Brooklyn smirked when she looked around with a plan of attack in place...

"How hard did they train this kid?" Rhodey asked, bewildered enough to set down the files
on his lap, relying on his leg braces to stand properly in order to join Cap by the window,
"This kid saved my life a few days ago, but now it's like she's a whole different person"

Nat rubbed her temples, the most distress she'd let show.

It occurred to her then that it was no wonder the kid had been so afraid of Ivan during their
last talk in person. He'd likely trained her to death, enough so that years ago during their first
meeting, Brooklyn finally had enough to betray her own kin.

The others in the observation room didn't get it. Betrayal was nearly unheard of in the Red
Room. Order wasn't just born out of fear but of blind obedience. Nat had never questioned
Rosa's circumstances, never bothered asking why Ivan’s heiress killed her own with such
little hesitation that bleak day. Maybe it was because Natasha had seen a lot of herself in that
young girl, and even when she'd read her file days later, it hadn't crossed her mind to question
as to why things turned out the way they did.

When the redhead opened her eyes, the room was already looking at her expectantly. They all
knew Nat was the only one who held the answers to the mystery fighting below.

The Avengers always knew Brooklyn was an assassin. But having been trained as a child,
they had thought foolishly, 'Perhaps she’d fled just in time, hadn’t gotten the chance to be
taught too much'

They had been wrong...so wrong.

Peter was barely learning complex sentences at the age of seven. He'd been learning how to
throw a football, still complaining about having to eat those leafy greens he'd hated so much.
The Spider-man couldn't help but wonder with slight mortification as to what Brook had been
learning at that age that this was the result of that obscure youth.
He'd thought she'd changed these past few days in many ways, enough that Brooklyn had
almost seemed like a normal student sometimes. In those moments eating dinner with May,
or walking to school, he'd completely forgotten she was once a trained assassin. He hated to
think so ill about it because Peter knew it wasn't fair since Brook had no choice in her way of
life...but right now, she seemed like the kind of people the Avengers stopped, the ones heroes
fought against rather than welcomed into their ranks.

Natasha hadn't answered the silent question everyone wanted a response to, she just stared
intensively at the fight below, looking desperately for more mistakes or weaknesses to ease
her mind.

Rosa's small form was a huge advantage with that flexibility of hers, and her quick mind
worked through her motions before she even did them. The Black Widow knew that feeling
well. Letting the mind go into overdrive, adrenaline did that to a person.

Falling into a deadly zone like that...every battle became a new problem set, and every
opponent required a new formula. Her focus had to be incredibly disciplined and meticulous
for these sorts of calculations to work, ones that could leave bodies shattered or dead.

And they were.

The realization brought on a wave of guilt Natasha had not allowed herself to feel in regard to
Brooklyn’s situation. Back when he’d brought Rosa over to America, she’d reasoned that the
girl had a much better future in the hands of a normal family. It had been a poor choice fueled
by the fact that Nat had been nothing more than an undercover spy that could not provide
anything better.

But she should’ve known that what Rosa would need wasn’t to be forced to blend in with a
foreign society, but help in trying to process the years of brainwashing the Red Room had
done. Natasha should’ve been there to teach the little girl the rights and wrongs of the world,
to try and push away the darkness of their shared past.

These were the fruits of Natasha’s negligence, a teenager capable of bringing down countries
who couldn’t understand that murder was wrong.

From the perspective of those in the room that had American military training (Sam, Clint,
and Rhodey), they were the ones who noted the moment Brooklyn began to move, she
became methodical and efficient. Like a trained soldier, she ducked lightning fast, kicking out
one of her legs and sideswiping opponents with her feet as if she were reaping wheat out of
the land. Face impassive despite the horrors, moves only achievable through continuous
repetition. Despite the similarities, this was not how any of them had been trained. Never
would such an approach to killing be allowed amongst the trained forces.

On the other side of the couch, Pepper was clutching Tony's hand with just as much force as
he was.

With a different perspective from the others, the woman wasn't well versed in fighting or
combat, all she could see was the killing for what it was. Every enemy Brooklyn
encountered, she went for a quick and deadly move, then moved on to the next obstacle.
That's all the woman could see, no ounce of hesitation towards what should be difficult
decisions.

The little girl Pepper had gone shopping with the other day was gone at that moment. She
couldn't catch a glimpse of Brooklyn's secret smile when she beheld a red lipstick of her
liking or the joy of eating Steve’s cooking. Pepper was momentarily lost, unsure how there
was nothing but hungry eyes and a wicked smirk left.

The only one not truly panicking was Scott, who held a bowl of skittles against his chest,
annunciating each blow Brooklyn dished out. Like their own special sound effect machine
and sports commentator.

"Woah! That was crazy! Did you see how much her leg stretched when she kicked and broke
that neck? Crazy!" Scott said, finally earning a quiet hush from Wanda next to him when
none others had the mind to do so.

Wanda had been trained under HYDRA for some time, but that mostly consisted of working
out the mechanics of her powers. Only she and her brother had been successful trials for the
experiments conducted with Loki's staff, and only their powers mattered since then.

The Maximoff had been fueled by anger then, far beyond reason to see what she was
becoming. Only focused on killing Tony Stark for what he had unknowingly and
unintentionally done to her family. Even then, the worst things she’d done were delving into
minds, moving objects, and incapacitating enemies. Wanda never trained to kill, not like this.

The Scarlet Witch clutched Vision's hand for reassurance, a way to help her ward off the
thoughts of what it would have been like if she'd gone to people like the Red Room for
revenge instead of Hydra. The image of what she could have become made her restless, even
if the robot beside her couldn't comprehend it.

At some point, before the training round ended, Bruce had actually left the room with only
Vision noticing, but the A.I. opted to keep quiet about it.

The doctor had been thinking back to all the scars, improperly healed wounds on the X-rays,
and whip marks he'd seen on Brooklyn days ago. He had tried to make himself feel better
about them by remembering they could be healed with today’s technology, but now he knew
that it wasn’t about the scars, it was the years of abuse and torture Brooklyn had suffered that
no machine could heal.

The sight of the fight became too much for Bruce to deal with because of such a cruel
reminder.

Bruce was angered at the thought of people training a poor little girl with such punishments,
enough so that he started feeling a little out of control. Even when he'd kept 'the other guy' at
bay for months, the image of Tony's daughter killing like this, being hurt...it was enough to
start turning the skin of his hands a little green. Literally.

Eventually, when all the blue hologram lights shut off, the room below turned darker, and the
image of Brooklyn's panting form was unsettling to most in the observation room.
She'd closed her eyes for a few seconds, seemingly struggling with something. Natasha knew
what that was. It was difficult to turn off that killing drive, to come back to the real world
where murder wasn't everything in front of you. The others could only assume Brooklyn was
tired, unaware of the danger before them.

At least one person down in the training room didn't care in the least.

Agent Adonis approached the panting girl, who was busy prying back auburn baby hairs
from the sweat on her forehead to notice him.

He was smart enough to keep his distance, Nat and Clint thought, he approached slowly as
was the right way. Adonis would've likely ended up on the ground if he’d rushed forward,
without tendons to hold up his head…and Brooklyn might have been shot for killing an
agent.

"What was that?" Adonis asked, voice deeper than before, and more strict.

The Avengers watched Brooklyn raise an eyebrow in mocking curiosity, eyes at last back to
their clearer self. She looked at the screen propped on the wall behind Adonis, shrugging as
she confidently replied, "That was 78 kills in 15 minutes, Mr. Death Incarnate"

Peter noticed with some unease that Adonis didn't look amused, not that he'd expected it. In
all the time Spider-man had trained with the guy, not a single smile had been returned after
all.

Fury remained by the control panel, watching the interaction unfold, especially once Adonis
raised his voice.

"Yes, you killed them all. Why!?" he yelled, motioning to the empty training ground where
the dead bodies of the holograms were no longer scattered on the ground.

Brooklyn looked like she was on the verge of laughter, "What do you mean why? This is a
trial of skills, is it not? I reckon I’ve won unless your anger is an indication someone has
done it better in the past?"

Adonis sighed, staring up at the heavens and pleading for patience as he replied, "This isn't
the Red Room anymore, agent. I'm sure Director Fury has made that clear. In case you’re
unaware, in SHIELD, we don't kill unless we have to"

The girl scoffed, "You can't be certain an enemy won't come after you unless you kill them
first. You asked me to handle the enemies, so I did!"

That's when Fury’s deep voice echoed across the room, "Here we don't train to kill, Miss
Stark. We aim to injure and apprehend, otherwise, you end up a vigilante like Gotham's bat,
the Green Arrow, or that skeleton on a motorbike. Do you know what they all have in
common? A shitty reputation and controversial opinions from the public"

Fury pointed at the SHIELD symbol carved onto the wall, a mammoth weight on the
shoulders of everyone hidden in the upper room. It was a reminder of the billions of lives in
their hands, of their own reasons for taking up the mantle of hero.

A terrible privilege most would say. Not Peter though, but that was because he was new to
the gig, because he was still young and viewed the world with an innocence the adults
envied.

Fury added, "You're here to become an Avenger, a symbol of hope. If you start killing
everything you see, you'll end up doing more harm than good. Kids need to look up to you
the way they do your father. Get it into your head that you need to become a role model, not a
crazed murderer. That's what the world needs"

From the window up above, Tony felt a shiver run down his spine when he noticed the way
his daughter frowned as if their words of mercy were truly a foreign concept she couldn't
grasp. He was reminded once more of his father, a man who had left him in the hands of
nannies and teachers while he kept the world safe and ran Stark Industries.

Was this any different?

Had Tony not neglected his daughter all these years for those same reasons? Heroics and the
duties of his last name? Obviously, he knew it wasn’t that simple an answer, especially
because he didn’t even know Brooklyn existed. But that twinge of guilt and regret began
eating him alive like a festering wound.

"Killing is much easier than seriously injuring, it would take too long for me to make sure I'm
not murdering someone and I likely would have only gotten half the enemies down in that
time," Brooklyn replied back with a sneer, "Not that you'd understand, one eye, since you let
a whole parasite grow within SHIELD because you likely couldn't bring yourself to kill off
the problem at the source. Huh?"

Everyone in the observation room stilled. No one had ever talked to Fury like that, and even
if the insult hadn't been directed at the man, the Avengers still couldn't believe a young teen
was justifying mass murder before their eyes.

Adonis suddenly threw his weapon on the ground, but Brooklyn didn't even flinch at the
sound. She only slowly turned her gaze towards the agent when he began stalking her way
and harsh reprimands spilled out of his mouth.

"Killing everyone you can, yeah, you could do that. But you probably heard about that red-
masked, Bat-sidekick who went on a killing spree a few years ago, right? People saw him as
a hero once, but then that all went out the trash when he decided he had the right to become
the law and kill whoever he felt like. Now everyone hates him, now he is nothing but a
murderer of murderers. Would you really want to bring that kind of stain to your family
name, Stark?"

Brooklyn scoffed, sending a fiery gaze full of anger and frustration toward the agent and
director in the room.

Up in the room, Nat crossed her arms and nodded in understanding towards Adonis’ words,
not necessarily in agreement at Brooklyn being to shoulder the reprimand.
"She still has the Red Room mentality in her, it's not easy to shake off" Nat declared to the
stunned room, "SHIELD corrected that for me when I joined. I'm sure it will do the same for
Rosa, all in due time"

That last part had been Natasha’s attempt to ease their minds, but it only brought on more
difficult questions the woman wasn’t sure she had the patience or ability to answer at that
moment. Not after all she’d just beheld.

"When they trained her, they must have taught her to hold back during sparring, right?" Bruce
asked, at last coming back inside the room despite still looking a little pale, "You said she
was just a kid no older than seven when you saved her, Nat. Wasn't she learning this stuff
with other kids and had to hold back because of it?"

Clint, seemingly coming to a realization, cursed and walked over to the food table, leaning
against it with his head bowed downwards in defeat.

Natasha had told him only a few things about her past in all the years they had known one
another, mostly on nights they were both drunk or when filling in the silence on the way back
home from a mission. Somehow, he hadn't made the connection of those tales to the teen
downstairs before, likely because Brooklyn was nothing but a girl with a weary attitude since
they’d met.

But now he could see it now, the image of a young Natasha replacing Stark's daughter from
tales his mind had illustrated from Nat's stories.

"Those kids are not learning skills together like a bunch of toddlers in preschool sharing
building blocks. They're fighting together to enhance their skills, or more specifically,
killing" Nat added softly, only solidifying Clint's thought process as well as that of most in
the room.

"What?!" the Avengers all screamed, some even standing from their seats as they tried to
make sense of Natasha's vague words.

Tony leaned against the window, for once not minding being so close to Capsicle despite
their ongoing uneasiness with each other after the accords. He gazed down at his daughter,
watching as she looked at both men before her in confusion, then sank down on her knees.

"If that is your command and unwavering philosophy, that means I failed then. I accept my
punishment" Brook said, and soon everyone was at the window beholding the peculiar
situation that made their hearts ache. All but Nat and Clint who settled on the couch with
heads bowed to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Adonis asked, puzzled as he stared down at the girl.

"Isn't there a punishment around here for failure? You said I wasn't supposed to kill, but I
did," the girl said, "then I will receive my punishment"

Fury pushed past the confused agent whose eyes had gone wide and body still with
realization. His displeased gaze unwavering, Fury handed Brook one of his guns and ordered
her to get ready for the target practice section of the examination. He'd also taken the time to
assure her no punishment was in store for her. Teen hesitantly stood after really
contemplating his words, as if she didn’t believe it.

"What did you mean by killing, Nat?" Tony asked softly, leaning his head on the cold glass
while keeping his eyes on his daughter, "I get you all train to be assassins, but I assumed you
used dummies for targets, maybe watched some educational videos on how to end a life with
cute cartoons"

Natasha leaned back against the cold cushions, sighing deeply when she looked up at her
friends. Talking about the past was never easy, and she didn't have a single drop of liquor to
get through it for once. But after all of this, explanations were owed if any of them hoped to
do right by Brooklyn. Nat knew that now.

It was with a heavy heart that she explained, "In the Red Room, they make you do weekly
assessments with the other girls. A fight only ends when the instructor gives the signal to stop
fighting…or to kill. Not many widows in training live very long, only the strong don't break"

Tony was aghast and pained by the idea. Killing. At some point in her life, his daughter had...

The widow added, "Even if your fellow sestras don't kill you during training, failure in any
degree is punishable in similar ways" pointing at the display that had just occurred
downstairs. The reason why Brook had sunk to her knees in defeat, expecting the worst.

Sam frowned, clutching the straps of his green hoodie as tightly as he could. Though he knew
it wasn’t what the others needed to hear, he dared to ask, "The kid must have failed
something at some point, but she's not dead"

Clint quickly sensed Natasha's reluctance. This being one of the few questions he could
answer with certainty from his friend’s tales of the past, he took over and explained, "Not on
the outside she's not. But there are punishments, severe ones that might very well be worse
than death. Even if you do things excellently, you will be punished for not doing them
perfectly"

"Um, like what exactly are we talking about?" Tony asked, watching his daughter finish her
rounds in the shooting range with a weapon in hand, all bullets dead and center no matter the
gun or rifle that was handed over.

She'd know how to work every single weapon, loading them as if that had been a mental
exercise she’d mastered long ago..

Then Tony noticed Adonis handed over a sword, an unusual weapon none of the Avengers
had ever wielded. Brooklyn took it naturally like it was nothing, and continued against the
assault of new projected enemies. They watched the teen weave around much slower than
before, incapacitating this time, not killing.

It seemed uncomfortable for her. Unnatural.

Meanwhile, Nat hesitated on a proper answer.

"I'm sure the methods of punishment have changed since my days" she replied, "I'm not sure
what they would have done, Tony"

Nat had a pretty good idea though. Both she and Bruce met gazes then because they both had
an idea of the punishments young Brooklyn must have received, and they hadn't healed
nicely.

Meanwhile, Tony clutched his own wrist, remembering the scars he'd seen on his daughter
the day he sent her off to school. They were not blade marks as he'd feared, but something
more familiar to him. Back when he'd been taken hostage by the Ten Rings, Tony had been
bound for the beginning of his capture. When his hands had been freed so he could work on
the missiles...scars from the cuff marks remained...

They faded a few months after he arrived back to the safety of his Malibu home, after being
treated by a doctor, of course. Healed with careful care.

Tony wondered what kind of punishment would leave scars like that permanently, how long
she had been bound for and why. The feeling of his sinking heart felt like a physical blow,
one even Pepper's side embrace could not chase away.

Then the speakers turned on in the room, startling all the pensive heroes.

'Could Spider-man please report to the training room by order Director Fury?' the A.I. of the
building suddenly announced.

Peter bolted straighter from his place between the Captain and Stark, turning away from the
window as he pondered why he'd been asked to go down when he wasn’t scheduled for
training at all today.

Somehow knowing the Avengers were all up in the watch room, Fury sent a glare towards the
tinted window, as if saying 'Hurry up'.

Peter still wanted to hear the rest of the conversation about Brooklyn, but opted to ask Mr.
Stark about it later as he rushed down to the training room with faint wishes of luck from
everyone trailing after him.

The absence of the teenager shifted the ambiance of the room because they didn’t have to
play around with words anymore to spare the kid. They could ask the hard questions now.

As soon as the metal doors to the room closed, Tony dared to ask with the most pained voice
Steve hadn't heard from the man since he'd found out about his mother's true death, "Did my
little girl kill other children, Nat?"

Natasha's answer had been hesitant, but ultimately true, "Many. At the age of seven...she'd
likely killed hundreds both older and younger kids, and was likely almost killed that many
times too"

The room was filled with silence, suddenly feeling colder than before even when the AC
wasn't even on. That's what the truth felt like, an icy blow to the heart that took away all
 warmth and joy they’d felt coming in here to watch Brook’s first day of training.

Pepper clutched onto Tony as much as she could, and even Steve was allowed to place a
reassuring hand against the man's arm in his stunned silence. No one knew what was going
on inside Tony's mind, it was hard enough to figure that out on a normal day, all they could
offer was support for now.

The sound of metal against metal shifted their gazes below where Brooklyn set down the
silver sword and gun on a hard table, enemies on the brink of death on the floor. In the
shooting range, there was only one hole in the target which all bullets she'd fired had gone
through, all in the dead center of darkest red…red like the blood they now knew the girl had
been forced to spill for years.

Now the Avengers had a better idea of who Brooklyn Stark was, but it came at the cost of
knowing that unlike most of their childhoods…it was not a pleasant beginning.

Perhaps Pepper had been the only one that noticed the single tear that cascaded down Tony’s
cheek, one she’d wiped away, but she hadn’t been the only one that felt her stomach skin to
the floor as Peter, Brooklyn’s hated adversary, entered the room below.

Chapter End Notes

Hey readers! For those of you worried that this will be a story with an overpowered
main character, rest assured that is not the case. Brook is in her element when fighting,
it's the one thing she's trained her whole life.

Keep in mind she does have quite a few visible weaknesses as of right now. First, her
weakness for children, feeling the need to help them out even when she would normally
leave anyone to perish. They remind her of the younger lives she took in the Red Room,
and any young life endangered will cause Brook to act even if it isn't in her best interest
(just like we saw in New York).

There is also the matter of her new friends and the need to prove herself to her father.
These are motivations that go against her instincts. That's not always a good thing to
have as an assassin.

Lastly, another of the visible weakness we've already seen in Brook is more of a mental
issue than a physical one. She fears the Red Room and anything associated with it. She
will do anything to keep out of a similar prison like that, might not even be able to fight
her way out of a situation involving her past as well.

Brooklyn is not unstoppable. She's said it herself, when it comes to humans, she's pretty
well-matched. But throw in mutants, gods, or aliens, and she's not so certain of her odds
anymore.
The next chapter will include another weakness, one that will be a very important focal
point in the story.
 At Last, We Get to Fight

Brooklyn POV-

There was no greater joy than seeing Spider-man run into the training room for the next part
of her assessment, and despite the tribulations she’d faced, the assumption that he would be
her next enemy made the past hour fade from her mind. It certainly lifted her spirits at least.

"Spider-man, you'll take part in the next test fighting with Brooklyn. All weapons and skills
allowed" Fury said, then threw a pointed look Brook's way, "with no killing as the only
exception"

That part was disappointing, but at least she'd get to beat the crap out of the hero she'd grown
to resent so much. Maybe later she could recount to Stark how she beat his precious friend
and ally, even if Brook had no clue why that seemed so important to her all of the sudden.

It's not like she cared that Spider-man was treated fondly by Stark. It's not like she needed to
prove herself superior. But it was important to Brook nonetheless that she beat him, even if
she didn't quite understand it.

However unexpected, this would be a much-awaited fight on her part, one she might laugh at
and relish for the rest of her life once it turned out in her favor. So Brooklyn didn't hesitate to
grab a decent wooden staff, almost the length of half her body. She swung it around, testing
for its weight, becoming familiar with it.

Yes, that would be a decent weapon, because if she grabbed something with a sharp end or a
gun, the urge to kill Queens' hero might be too much. Spider-man was lucky her
new....friends...loved him so much, otherwise Brook might have just severely injured him for
the fun of it. If she bothered to look further into that, she supposed that Spider-man keeping
Queens safe was also of benefit to them beyond their admiration. For that, she could spare
him today.

The hero himself was not reaching for any weapons, just remained standing nervously beside
Fury.

"Mr. Fury, sir...are you sure it's a good idea?" Spider-man asked, "I thought fighting with
others was something a trainee did down the line, not on their first day"

Brooklyn laughed, "Don't be a coward, Queens. Since all my new schoolmates care about
you so much I'll only bruise you a little, you will not meet your end here. Not today"

Fury smirked then, a terrifying gesture, then patted the hero on the back before pushing him
to stand beside Brook. He asked Adonis to head to the control panel, then looked both
trainees in the eye.

"You won't be fighting Spider-man, Miss Stark. You'll be fighting with him"
Brooklyn dropped her staff, alternating her gaze between both guys in front of her. Confused.
Aghast.

"Are you insane! I'm not fighting alongside this idiot! Why would I do that?!" she yelled
back, even when Fury already began to walk away. She considered going after him, stepping
off the mats and refusing this punishment Fury must’ve concocted to get back at her for
challenging his views earlier.

Almost as if sensing her next move, the man raised a hand in a halting motion without
stopping. He yelled past his shoulder, "Here in SHIELD, we do a lot of teamwork missions,
especially those in the Avengers Initiative. How are you supposed to become one if you can't
even work with one of your future teammates?"

Future teammates!? Teamwork!? Fury had to be insane, or be so upset by her behavior and
past crimes to go out of his way to change procedure this far.

Brooklyn thought about challenging the pirate to a spar right now just to shut him up, but
beating up a senior citizen would definitely look bad on her already fragile record. It didn't
help that Fury was right in everything he said, it made sense...but working as a team was not
something Brooklyn had EVER been trained to do.

Working alongside her lab partners had been difficult enough, but that didn't require the large
amount of trust needed to believe someone had your back in a fight.

This was life or death, not a simple lab grade on the line.

Besides, she'd be closer to trusting the feeble and weak Peter or Harry with fighting alongside
her than with Spider-man. Even if those two were simple citizens, she'd rather be around
them than this fool.

"Um, maybe we should give it a try," said the hero beside her, nervously handing her the staff
she dropped, "Wanda and I had to pair up for one of my assessments once. It's not too bad, I
promise"

One look back at Fury’s retreating form made something very clear, that warning look he shot
her amidst the shadows of the edges of the room. Either she teamed up with the hero, or there
would be repercussions. It still made Brook want to knock the clipboard out of his hands.

But that would get her thrown in jail, it would prove him and Adonis right that she was on a
path of no redemption. If that was the case, she’d lose all value to them for sure and her
future would not be spent playing High School celebrity, but rather as a prisoner in a dark cell
where the memory of her would lie forgotten.

Maybe in order to get through it, she just needed to think of this differently...

In order to not get arrested, Brook had to complete this ridiculous test. Brooklyn never failed,
she wasn't made to succumb to such failures, and this certainly would not slow down her
process.
The ex-assassin harshly snatched the weapon out of Spider-man's hands, and sent Fury and
Adonis a nod to continue, even when all she wanted was to wipe the smirks off both their
faces. Foolish men.

Turning back to her temporary partner, Brooklyn warned, "You get in my way and you'll
regret it"

Spider-man, as always, didn't say anything even remotely offensive back. He just gave her a
thumbs-up as the blue lights and lasers returned to the room. Little by little, humanoid forms
began to form, with all their appendages glowing blue under the darkness of the room. Like
all the others she'd fought earlier, the generated enemies had vaguely plain faces. Most of the
programming had not been focused on their looks but on the different and unpredictable
forms of attack.

She suspected that, like before, she'd find no actual pattern to their approaches. Brook would
just have to go in and hope for the best, praying Spider-man wouldn't mess things up. That he
was capable of keeping up.

The same alarm as before rang loudly across the room, indicating that a simulation would
begin and anyone not part of it should scram. That's when Brooklyn got in position, twirling
her stick comfortably on her left hand.

So far only a group of ten enemies had appeared, none of them aliens, who were programmed
to be quicker and more savage than the generated humans.

"Keep to your side, spider. I'll handle mine" Brook said to the hero beside her as she
formulated a plan of attack, getting herself ready for the fight to come…trying and failing to
find a balance between that killing calm and the clemency her new boss deemed she needed
to incorporate.

The hero beside her replied back in a panicked mumble, "We're supposed to work together
though,"

His being here was already an issue. With Spider-man’s presence around, Brooklyn couldn't
let herself go completely and would have to be more cautious not to kill her own
teammate...yet he still had the nerve to complain?

Brook didn't bother arguing, just charged towards the left flank, leaving the hero to quickly
try to catch up behind her. Which she found out was not hard for him to do, likely a result of
those mutant powers she refused to acknowledge.

Brooklyn heard the sounds of webs being shot and even a breeze from when the swinging
male charged beside her. She swung her wooden staff at the first victim, but instead of
destroying the thing indefinitely, Brook was once again painfully conscious of Fury's words
from earlier.

His warning not to kill.

Instead of her usual approach, she sighed, placing the stick behind the hologram's legs and
flipping him to the ground. When its companion arrived, Brooklyn quickly placed the
weapon in an upright position and used it to swing herself over for a more powerful kick. In
seconds, she'd quickly knocked them out, pressing on the nerve next to their Adam's apple.
Knowledge from her kyusho-jitsu training.

They’d said no killing…so now she had to go through all this trouble to make her victims
pass out. It was a ridiculous waste of time.

At some point during the assessment, the number of holograms increased, and even when she
and Spider-man kept quite a few at bay, the numbers quickly became overwhelming. Not
more skilled, but the strain was starting to show as she was forced to up her pace to bring
down the approaching numbers.

In no time, Brook and Spider-man were cornered closer together as enemies came by from all
angles. It would have been fine, had she not swung at one's head just as Spider-man was
shooting a web behind her. Next thing she knew, the wooden staff was yanked out of her hold
and thrown towards the sea of enemy holograms to her right.

Brook had never turned around so quickly in her life, frown already in place.

"Are you insane! This is my area!" she yelled at him, but Spider-man was occupied taking
care of some guys closing in on him. Struggling by the looks of it. He didn't even bother
answering back as he glued enemies onto the walls.

One thing Brook had caught while sneaking glances his way, was that Spider-man might have
super strength and impeccable reaction times, but he was more of a distance fighter. In close
quarters he was only useful with those webs of his seeing as he clearly had little to no
offensive attacks to dish out, and even then he needed quite a bit of room to make the web
attacks work.

Brook was the opposite in this case. With no guns, she'd been reduced to closer combat that
despite being her strength and specialty, rendered her useless to stopping enemies out of her
range.

Now thanks to this idiot, her weapon was lost in a mass of about forty enemies heading her
way. Despite Brook’s visible annoyance, she continued to use her fists and legs to
incapacitate the holograms, even when she felt the sting of her wound acting up again.

It wasn't until Brooklyn had somehow managed to drive back most of her attackers that she
shouted back a string of curses in Russian to her partner as frustrations reached their max.
The hero finally paused his attacks as Brook weaved out of the way of those reaching for
her.

He had the right idea of looking nervous, she could tell even with that ridiculous mask on.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you would attack when you did!" he yelled back, somehow
sounding more worried and guilty than angry and frustrated. Even now, he wasn’t angry at
her or their situation.
Brook inched closer to him to avoid a few hits and snapped, "That doesn't bring my staff
back!"

"Well, I don't have it!"

That son of a...

A buzzing shot of electricity collided along her arm from behind her, then another. The shock
of it was enough to send her body into a painful muscle lock. Gritting her teeth, Brooklyn
turned to take care of the holograms now shooting at her, but while arguing with Spider-man
to stay further away from her, the teen failed to notice just how many enemies had dared to
approach closer in that time.

The next thing she knew, Brook found herself with her back against the mats, groaning as
more blows met every part of her body into a frenzy of pain she barely managed to hide from
her face. In seconds, something crashed beside her, and similar painful grunts as hers began,
though Spider-man was not shy about screaming in pain.

The constant electric shocks prevented her from standing, all Brooklyn could do was tilt her
aching head and watch as Spider-man received the same treatment beside her.

It wasn't until Brook was certain she'd have a few bruises over her body from the constant
assault and the light of the room had been completely covered by the mass of hologram
bodies above them, that Fury finally stopped the exercise.

The low rumble of a bell rang across the room, and slowly, the enemies above them began to
vanish, unaware of their victory.

Brooklyn had been fuming too much to focus on her pain as she quickly rolled over to lean
over Spider-man's fallen body. She gripped onto his shoulders as hard as her aching limbs
allowed, watching as his metal eyes widened and then shrank when she began shaking him
violently.

It was all she could do instead of killing him to take out her frustration.

"You idiot," she yelled, "We failed thanks to you! You did it on purpose!"

"I said I was sorry!" Spider-man replied softly, clutching his left arm in pain below her. He
didn’t fight back or bothered to use his superior strength to push her off…and somehow that
made her angrier.

She raised a fist to punch him in the face, mask and all…when her hand stopped mid-air as
an image of her first day of school flashed into her mind. Brooklyn recalled the way Flash
had done the same thing, an equal pose to her own before dealing a blow to a downed Peter.

For whatever reason, the memory made her falter, and thus her first slowly sank back to her
side harmlessly. The shock of the action alone was enough to distract her from the presence
slowly nearing them.
Brooklyn was actually startled when a large hand suddenly held onto the back of her collar,
yanking her away to fall on her bottom against the mats not far from the stunned hero.

"Actually," Fury's deep voice said, "You are the one at fault today, Miss Stark. Lack of
communication and team effort was your downfall. Spider-man was collateral damage of
your mistakes"

Collateral damage. Mistake. Your downfall.

Brook felt like she'd been slapped. A pain worse than the electrical aftershocks coursing
through her body.

Perhaps she HAD refused to work as a team, but she'd found little benefit in it to begin with.
But Brooklyn could see the unspoken message in Fury's cold eye as he stared down at her
defeated form, he would not tolerate this behavior again. Apparently, teamwork was that
important to the old man, essential for her to master if she hoped to be worth anything here.

Forgetting propriety and the manner she’d tried to hold onto so hard at the beginning of this
trial, Brook banged her fists hard against the mats as a way to let go of some of her anger and
disappointment. She even let out a small frustrated groan before Fury finally dismissed her
for the day, saying they would continue the non-physical trials tomorrow.

He didn’t even look back at her as he left, as if she wasn’t worth it.

Brook didn't bother with Adonis' smirk or replying to Spider-man's sheepish and terrified
apology as he tried to reach for her from his place flinching on the floor. She just pushed her
pain aside and angrily stumbled out into the empty hall towards the waiting elevator.

Her trip back to the locker rooms was a haze, the freezing shower to quell the flames of her
anger nothing more than a hollow set of movements. All she could think about was one thing
that resonated deep into her bones, deeper than the bruises and the aches.

She’d failed. For the first time in her life, she’d failed a test.

The algid air did little to defuse the rage inside her body and soul once she managed to stomp
out of the building. Brooklyn could do nothing but stare up at the moon in disgust, clutching
her stomach injury that had continued to ache from the strain on its healing skin.

Thankfully there was no one outside the SHIELD building to notice that bit of weakness.

The darkness of the night sky brought little comfort to her jumbled mind. She'd gone into this
building with an air of confidence, only to realize how different things were here from what
she was once used to.

Brooklyn wasn't just pissed that she'd messed up during that trial, what really ate at her was
how...how she had no clue what to do. She'd always been the best trainee in the Red Room,
even if she grew to dislike the killing and the punishments. At least she knew how to deal
with that and there had been no question of her superiority in every task.
This situation was too different here. Now, she had no clue how to do anything right.

It was cruel and amusing considering that for a time, Brooklyn thought this job as an agent
might be easy. All she had to do was kill the troublemakers of the world, simple as that. But
murder would not be tolerated with these people, even if that's all she knew how to do.

Staring at the building down the short road, Brook beheld the majestic blue glow of the giant
Avengers symbol, the place where her otets was likely lounging without a care in the world.
Such a well-known symbol, what it represented at its core, it had never been so far out of her
reach even if she was not too far from the thing itself. Fury would likely inform Stark of what
happened here today, and he would realize she was not Avengers material after all. Without
proper use, she'd likely be disowned as a result.

She'd been expecting that for some time now, knowing that one day Stark would see she
wasn't good enough to fit into his kind of life. Brooklyn could lie and pretend, but she’d
never live up to being the daughter of a worldwide hero, and she wasn't all that certain she
wanted to try in the first place.

"You know, I didn't do all that well on my first day of SHIELD training," a familiar male
voice suddenly said behind her. The teen did her best not to react to the intrusion she hadn’t
sensed and kept her eyes on the bleak sky full of malignant clouds and darkness akin to the
one she’d grown up around.

Brook sighed, recognizing the voice she’d heard often enough these days, more so than she
should’ve. His appearance shouldn't have been so surprising, the guy had somehow ended up
appearing everywhere lately after all.

With her faltering amounts of luck lately, it shouldn't come as a shock that he'd watched the
whole thing and had come to kick her out of the Compound himself. Isn’t that how fairy tales
went, the righteous vanquishing the evil and unruly? Had she not just outed herself as one of
the enemies the Avengers fought to destroy?

The teen turned around cautiously, facing the golden-haired captain who seemed to be
approaching her carefully as well. Perhaps he was afraid of her after all, or maybe
enormously disappointed was a better word for it.

He had no shield on him, but Brook would be ready for a fight regardless.

Even when the Captain was so much taller than her, enough so that it actually pained Brook's
neck to look up at his face, the ex-assassin tried to look undisturbed. A mask she'd mastered
long ago.

"Well, if it isn't the pride of America. I doubt your first day was as big a mistake as mine,
look at yourself, you were practically made to be a hero" she replied, unable to keep some
sass away from her tone.

Rogers didn't seem to mind, he just motioned to a small bench on the side of the building, and
it wasn't until they both settled down on it that he turned her way with a smile.
"The Battle of New York was the first fight I'd been in for sixty-six years, but even then I had
to apply to SHIELD afterward like everyone else. Most don't know this, but when I think of
really painful or stressful things, my strength gets out of control. During my assessment, we
didn't have holograms, but robots that attacked us" he let out a small laugh, allowing his head
to fall back to look up at the sky, "I accidentally sent five of them across the room and then
splattered on the wall just because I was so nervous"

Brook raised her eyebrows in surprise, unwilling to believe such a thing was possible from a
guy who clearly combed his facial hair and made detention videos for High School kids.

"Is this your way of telling me that today wasn't so bad? That I should get back at it?" Brook
replied, and when his ocean eyes met hers, she couldn't help but laugh at the innocence
within them.

"If you somehow bore witness to anything from my first day, then you know how different
this situation is. You made a mistake, maybe your PTSD from the war acted up. I kill
knowingly and on purpose. Don't try to make me seem like I’m an angel sent from heaven
with that crap" she added with a sneer.

The ex-assassin crossed her arms, bringing the warmth of her coat closer to her body. It was
all she could do to keep warm from the cold surrounding her like a cocoon of discomfort
she’d earned from her failures today.

Rogers had the nerve to sit beside her with nothing but a skin-tight shirt and jeans midst this
late-night chill without showing signs of discomfort. Damned freak.

"I mentioned my first day because instincts act up, and It's not always our fault" he clarified,
turning back towards the glowing sky up above, "With enough training, I was able to bring
those fears down. As a result, I haven't lost sense of my strength for a while now"

"Congrats then," she replied un-amusedly, "Want a golden star?"

The Captain didn't seem to find her joke funny, though his passive expression never flattered.
He just stood up from the bench and stretched out a hand to help her up, a gesture she refused
while opting to get up on her own. He didn't hold the rudeness of it against her either.

"Just because you've taken lives before doesn't make you different from us, Brooklyn. Do
you have any idea how many human lives I took during the war against Hydra?" Rogers
asked, not exactly looking for an answer, she realized, but putting more emphasis on the
'multiple lives' part.

The girl just stood there in silence, not just because she had absolutely no clue what that
number looked like, but because she HAD forgotten that these heroes had taken lives before.
They made mistakes, one look at the beeping metal bracelet on the man's ankle was enough
evidence of that.

When he realized Brooklyn would not answer, Rogers motioned for them to walk towards the
Avengers building. Yet she remained in place.
He appeared confused by her still form.

"I'm just gonna wait and see how I can be taken back to my apartment" Brook clarified,
knowing she didn't have the strength to deal with any of the Avengers today. Going to their
home would just be...just not right.

Thankfully, Steven Rogers wasn't the type of man to push on things. In fact, like the time he
took her out of the temporary med bay, now he took it upon himself to find her a ride.
Brooklyn had almost laughed when Rogers pulled out his phone, one that was much less
modern than the ones the others on the team carried around. Stark made. This was much like
her own, a simple smartphone.

It almost made Brook wonder if the idea to give her a phone had been Roger’s after all.

The Captain made quick work of scrolling through the contacts, typed a slow message, and
then informed her Happy was on his way. In the time it took for Happy to arrive, Steve
Rogers remained by her side under the fluorescent lights of the building.

He made promises that things would be easier from now on and that they would become that
much more so if she talked about what she was feeling. Of course, she wouldn't do that with
him of all people. He was practically a stranger...who bothered to help her time and time
again with no expectation of anything in return.

He reminded Brook of her quiet lab partner. Both he and Peter were good people, the kind
that don't seem real at first. Even if it was for just a second, she wished that she could be like
them.

"Aren't you mad at me like Fury was? Weren't you disappointed with what you saw in there?"
Brook found herself asking, even if she wished for nothing more than to retract those words.
She didn't want his confirmation and didn't need to hear yet another person scold her tonight.
Brook didn't need his speeches on righteousness either.

Steve turned back to look at her, eyes slowly drifting away from the scenery of his massive
home.

"I was a little startled at first" he admitted, almost making Brooklyn flinch further away from
the man, but then he added gently, "Then I realized that it wasn't you doing those things, but
the Red Room. I remembered that I've seen wonderful people commit crimes because they
were guided or controlled by the wrong people"

Brook dared ask, "What happens to those people exactly? Are they villains too?"

"No," The Captain replied confidently, "nor are they victims. They have a choice to sway
towards greater good or evil. Once I realized which way you would go, my worried thoughts
disappeared. Fury isn't mad, you know, I think he's worried for you and really wants to help.
He seems to know the most about you, and I know he wouldn't have let you join if he didn't
see something in your heart that was worth it"
How could he know what way Brooklyn would sway in that battle of right vs wrong? What
could someone like Fury see in her?

Brook could just as easily leave once she got back to Queens, maybe she wouldn't be able to
disappear for long from them, but she could try. She should get away from this mess before it
got out of control, get away from these people before…

The red watch on her wrist glistened with the lights of the building, catching Brook's
attention. When she looked down at it, she caught a peek of the black shirt under her coat that
Pepper had picked out for her at the mall.

Brooklyn still didn't like them all that much, but for whatever reason, leaving Stark and
Pepper behind while she ran away from SHIELD’s clutches suddenly seemed...unpleasant.

Not seeing Harry's beaming smile, or the books MJ brought into class every day would be
missed for sure even if it hadn't been more than two days of that happening. If she left, Brook
wouldn't hear a single Star Wars reference from Ned or walk to school with Peter. She'd
never get to make jokes during Literature with Tanya either. Plus, if she fled without looking
back and this problem with the alien weapons escalated, what would that mean for their
lives? Would Spider-man even be able to save the cluster of strangers that suddenly mattered
to her?

Deep down, there were feelings fighting to break free, trying to tell her something or give an
explanation as to why leaving New York was suddenly the most uncomfortable thought
imaginable.

She wondered if perhaps leaving Queens would be…a mistake.

"You really believe I can do this, don't you?" she asked, bewildered as she glanced sideways
at the hero of this country. It startled her further when Rogers’ didn’t even hesitate to send
her a quick nod along with a dorky smile.

That's when the familiar black Audi pulled up.

With a dismissive sigh, Brooklyn made her way to the passenger door, clutching the cold
handle but not making a move to pull it for some reason. Thankfully, it wasn't she who had to
find a way to end their conversation.

"Would you consider joining the group for dinner tomorrow after training?" Rogers suddenly
asked behind her, making use of her hesitation to head into the car.

Brooklyn quickly caught his true meaning, the way he'd asked that question with worry laced
in his voice. He knew she was considering never returning somehow. The Captain wanted to
know if she would come back, but strangely, he wasn't trying to stop her.

It was her choice to leave and never come back or return to her training and the destiny
SHIELD had in store for her. To return to the Avengers.

That was an odd feeling, having a choice in the first place.

Turning back to take a look at the building she'd just emerged from, she took in the glowing
eagle insignia on the side of the building, then the superhuman standing with hands in his
jean pockets, patiently awaiting her answer.

That feeling returned, the one unwilling to part with all this chaos. It wasn't painful, but new,
creeping up around her hardened heart. She’d thought to call it weakness, but Brooklyn
wasn’t sure that was the right term for the thing keeping her tethered to this place.

"I'll go, but only if you make those pancakes of yours again at some point," Brooklyn said,
almost sending herself into cardiac shock when she heard her own words. The promise to
actually return, even without the allure of his cooking.

The man visibly relaxed, then nodded with a chuckle, "Of course. I'll tell your dad to get the
ingredients by then"

Right, her father...

"Um, could you not tell Stark what happened during my assessment today? I just...It's none of
his business"

Rogers didn't question her peculiar request, he just nodded, sending her a quick wave before
turning back towards the building, wishing her good luck in school tomorrow.

When Brooklyn got inside the car while still a little disoriented over the fact that she actually
chose to stay, Happy waited until she strapped down before pulling away from the building. It
was odd that he hadn't yelled at her for keeping him waiting while she spoke to Rogers, plus
he hadn't mocked her once since she’d stepped into his domain. Instead, he turned down his
usual Downton Abbey soundtrack and threw an iPod her way, "You pick the music for today,
but only today"

He might as well have handed over the golden key to the city of New York as far as she was
concerned. She knew how picky Happy was about his music. Which is why Brooklyn was
too shocked to wonder why he left it up to her as hesitantly put on a popular radio station for
the remainder of their three-hour drive with the intention of testing how far the boundaries of
this strange kindness went.

He’d allowed it without complaint the entire ride.

She'd sat in silence until they finally arrived back at her apartment complex, where the array
of homes glowed under the moonlight.

Happy simply reminded Brook to be on time tomorrow when she reached to grab her
backpack from the back seats. No insults, no threats.

When the girl nodded and exited the car, she actually felt much better than before. Nothing
like the lure of music and personal silence to recharge batteries and forget about her mistakes.

As she began to walk down the darkened street towards the main gates, Happy rolled down
the window and shouted, "Straight to bed, kid! I don't want to deal with a call from school
that you slept in, or Tony will make me come wake you up!"

For Happy, that seemed to be a sign of worry, likely the most he'd ever show if she'd learned
anything about him from the past few days.

Brooklyn gave him a quick salute and rushed inside the gates. Only then did he drive away.
Then, once back in her cozy apartment with an oversized shirt on and a plate of May's
casserole leftovers, her issues during training seemed to vanish completely. The sound of
some award show played on her TV, but Brook was busy by the window, staring at the
glowing city beyond.

Even when it was almost eleven at night, there seemed to be so much vibrant life down the
hill full of skyscrapers and parks. In the darkness of her living room, Brooklyn actually let
herself enjoy it after all this time, the sight of the place she hadn’t been able to leave after two
days of things worming into her hardened heart. The buildings were glistening like stars
down in the ground, but up in the sky, the girl managed to catch a few figures gliding past
rather than celestial figures.

In today's world, the options for such moving objects were either a plane, helicopter, or in
this case, three red-capped figures flying by. A sight that wasn't uncommon nowadays, but
still managed to wow her in a way not many things did.

Superman, Supergirl, and a smaller form Brook wasn't familiar with but it was easy to
assume it was one of their own. There were already two red-capped flying heroes in this
world, might as well be three, she thought.

The Man of Steel flew past the city like a comet with companions in tow, and when they
passed by the light of the moon, the feeling of wonder almost made her drop her leftovers.

Heroes everywhere. Beings of extraordinary skill that keep the wheel of time turning for the
billions of people in this world. And if there was anything she'd learned today, such a job also
required a great level of restraint, a special kind of heart she'd yet to attain to not only be
selfless but also look beyond the easiest route to do the right thing.

That's when Steve's words from earlier replayed in her mind. Brook realized even the great
alien from another planet had committed mistakes too, that maybe Captain America had been
right. Perhaps one day, she'd crawl out of the shadows, and fly up amongst the light of the
sky like the good people of the world. She just had to put in more effort from now on, to at
least try to change.

Change was scary, but perhaps not completely useless. Because if aliens on Earth were
possible, why not an assassin turning into an Avenger?

Despite the three aliens not being shooting stars, the girl actually dared to wish for that
possibility as their forms disappeared in the sky. It was a silly notion to wish for things, but
she'd done it all the same for the first time in her life. She hoped to be different.

Brooklyn allowed herself to hold on to that weak smile as she went to bed, knowing she'd see
Peter in the morning, and the promise of pancakes during the upcoming weekend remained.
Good things for once, things she'd hold on to...or would at least try.
 The Hesitant Steps
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Was it possible that her massive literature book could actually become less heavy as the days
went by? Two days ago, it had become an uncomfortable weight by her side, but as Brook
fetched her supplies from her locker, its weight was lessened and oddly comforting.

The walk to school had also been rather pleasant as well, not that she attributed it to the
decision to stay in Queens from yesterday.

Harry had stopped by again, and despite the kind offer from his elderly driver, the trio took
the metro again. Ironically, they had to give up their metro seats again, to the same old lady
and two rowdy yet polite grandchildren.

This time Brook hadn't hesitated to stand and help the woman to the seat. Knowing such an
encounter would likely repeat again tomorrow, the three teens promised to save her seats
again from then on.

The older lady had been surprisingly thankful and promised to buy them a morning snack for
their kindness. Now that Brook would get pastries from May and something else from Nanna
(as the elderly woman insisted to be called), she was considering skipping her poorly
assembled breakfast from now on. A silly thought she'd never considered possible days ago,
being fed by strangers out of the kindness of their hearts.

A body leaned on the locker next to hers, as soon as Brook caught sight of the long curly
brown hair, she looked up to greet her...friend.

"Good morning Brooklyn! How was your morning? Saw you walking in with Parker and
Osborn again" Tanya said, nudging her head towards the lockers behind Brook's down the
hall where Peter and Ned were already immersed deep in conversation, likely about the lego
set Peter had been ranting about during the morning walk.

"My morning was surprisingly enjoyable. I rather enjoy their company, even if you don't
seem to like Harry all that much" she replied, closing her locker and leaning against it.

Yes, Peter Parker was an interesting boy. He managed to make her forget about the events of
yesterday as soon as he walked into her apartment with a bag full of warm pastries and an
equally sunny smile.

When she beheld the boy further along the hallway, she noticed with strange satisfaction that
he still wore the jacket she'd given him. Of course, the jacket fit him better than it would for
Brook, but knowing he would not feel as much of the chill of the morning was a bizarrely
reassuring thought.
Now, as he conversed with Ned and Harry, that warm feeling within her soul returned.
Perhaps it was because she was successfully keeping him safe from such a mundane danger, a
way to ensure he could remain his kind and merry self. That's the way she liked to think of it,
the walking with him to school, the partnering with him on classes they had together.

It was all a way to keep the innocent teen safe, he was one of a kind after all.

A hand was suddenly before her, waving itself up and down.

"Brooklyn? Earth to Brooklyn!" Tanya whispered, chuckling when Brook snapped back away
from her thoughts. The brunette moved to lean on the locker before hers, obstructing the view
of the guys who had become more than classmates against all odds.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought," Book apologized, sneaking a glare at the clock on the wall to
see they still had quite a bit of time before the bell rang.

Tanya held that usual smirk of hers, turning back to see the boys who were now waving their
way, a rush of students like a moving river between them. Brooklyn simply waved back,
while her friend did the same (except for Harry). He got a middle finger from Tanya, which
he gladly returned.

The ex-assassin was about to make her way over when Tanya placed a delicate hand on her
arm, halting her movements. Brook did not shug the brief contact away, knowing with more
certainty than before that the girl would not hurt her.

"Why were you staring that way earlier like the answers to the English test were there?"
Tanya asked, then she snuck a quick glance behind Brook while adding, "...oh, I see!"

Brooklyn was puzzled, if not a little intrigued when she asked, "What do you mean?"

A chuckle.

"Oh, you don't even know! How sweet!" Tanya said, eyes suddenly wide awake, "In that
case, tell me about Peter"

Why would Tanya want to know facts about Peter? Hasn’t she known him longer?

Sensing her confusion, the brunette specified, "Indulge me, tell me what you think of him"

Brooklyn paused, momentarily struck by the unusual question. Not many had bothered to ask
the ex-assassin about her opinion on things, much less about other people. From her
experience, Brook was typically the one being judged…especially as of late.

As to what she thought of Parker, she'd never given it much thought once she realized he
didn’t have the capability to kill or betray her.

"For your indulgence, I think he's a very intelligent student and kind to a fault. I've noticed he
prefers pens over pencils for assignments, and that the shirts he's worn since I've met him all
have some sort of witty science joke on them which leads me to assume he prefers that kind
of clothes. It certainly isn't helping with the cliche 'nerd' persona that gets him bullied around
here" Brook said with a frown, thinking back to the last few days in which her mind had to
have done keen observations on Peter without her conscious need for them, "He has fine taste
in sandwiches, and he always walks slower to class when I'm around because he's afraid to
rush me. Is that enough observations?"

Tanya beamed for whatever reason, urging her to continue, "More specific things, Brooks! I
need the deets!"

Deets? Brooks?

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," Brooklyn complained, but for the sake of making
Tanya's puppy eyes go away, her mind attempted to grasp what her friend was getting at.

Unsure of the motives for this change of topic, Brook could only indulge Tanya to try and get
more information to solve this odd mystery, so she added "Whenever a pet goes by, he always
stares at it with glee, I suppose. His eyes turn into crescent moons when he smiles. If there is
a low ceiling beam in his path, he'll jump to high-five it for no reason, I’ve asked. He's
not...unbearable. As I said, I enjoy his strange company"

Enjoying his strange company was not an entirely complete statement, it was more like she'd
protect his feeble existence from the dangers piling up in the world because somehow he'd
become a 'pet project' of hers to keep alive for no reason she could fathom, was what
Brooklyn didn't add.

"Perfect, perfect!" Tanya beamed, then leaned in closer to whisper, "How does that make
YOU feel?"

Feel? If only the teen before her knew how little that question had been asked in Brook's life,
especially at the beginning of it when she wasn’t supposed to be feeling anything at all. But
why inquire about that now?

More importantly, how did she feel? Brook was still angry, if not a little ashamed about her
training yesterday, but if the question was about Peter Parker, that emotion didn’t come to
mind.

Deciding to trust Tanya was getting onto something important with this, Brooklyn turned to
stare at the boy caught mid-laugh with his friends down the busy hall. One that hadn’t
hesitated to befriend her despite the possible repercussions of her new social status, or that
he’d seen her take down a group of football players someone their age should not possess.

Someone like Peter Parker, who was quite content with staying under the radar, had chosen to
walk beside the greatest beacon of gossip at this school. He didn’t seem to mind it one bit.

"Well, I feel calm. It's relaxing seeing him safe and happy"

Tanya scoffed, perfectly curled eyelashes blinking rapidly as she pressed, "How does your
tummy feel? Any butterflies?"

Butterflies!? Was Tanya implying Brook had been poisoned or something?

"What? How could I feel butterflies in my stomach? Don't tell me they're an edible
commodity here" Brook said, cringing at the thought of consuming the little things as one
might chips. It was her attempt at playing stupid, to see if Tanya would let anything slip that
would let Brook know she truly had been poisoned.

Tanya, once again, found her words amusing.

"No! I mean, do you feel like your stomach is doing flips when you're around him? I've
noticed you smile a lot, but only when it's with Peter"

Of course, she let herself relax around him, Brook just said a calmness overtook her in his
presence. In terms of threats, Peter was the one person she was more than certain would
never be able to cause her pain, so she indulged his jokes, let herself smile, and display
visible joy knowing it wouldn't be used against her. It was only logical.

Tanya on the other hand was starting to become very suspicious, more so about the cookie
she’d given Brook yesterday.

"I have felt something funny in my stomach during our morning walks, '' Brook confessed,
wondering how Tanya could know such things without her being the poison master, "But I
think it's because I eat my morning pastry too quickly. It probably doesn't sit well with me"

Just as she knew for certain Peter to be defenseless, she was mostly certain May was not of
the nature to hurt others. Not just because she was a nurse, but because she just didn't seem
the type. Like May and Pete were two peas of the same pod. Gullible, kind, and harmless.

The brunette actually stared at Brook as if she'd grown an extra head. Then, she doubled back
and laughed so loud the entire hall turned to look. Brooklyn did her best to ignore the stares,
especially those from their group of friends who looked quizzically at them.

As always, there was some concern in Peter's eyes as he turned their way, even more so than
on other days.

Tanya finally came down from the high of her odd amusement, and suddenly slapped Brook's
arm rather harshly. The weak attack startled her enough to flinch slightly, keeping a hand near
the activation button of her Stark watch.

Was Tanya going to kill her, attack her? If so, why had she stopped her ambush after just one
pathetic hit?

"What was that for?" Brook complained as she tried to keep her mask of innocence on for the
sake of their audience, massaging her bare arm that was starting to bloom a shade of red
darker than her hair.

Tanya leaned in ever closer, and with a large smirk, instead of a threat, she stated like it was a
matter of fact, "You are so clueless, but like me, you're an idiot! Makes sense since we're now
best friends,"
What the hell…was Brooklyn about to be attacked or offended by someone who casually
claimed to be at the top of her very short friends list?

The girl turned back to haze at the boys, who were now joined by MJ. They were busy
comparing notes for one of the classes they had in common, while Harry made eyes with a
girl further down the hall. They seemed so normal. So peaceful and innocent, a cluster of
teenagers brought together beyond a simple alliance. Perhaps a true friendship.

"Why are we idiots exactly?" Brook dared to ask in a hushed whisper, shifting her eyes back
to the cheerleader.

Tanya motioned towards their group of friends like that's where the answers lay. It wasn’t
until Brooklyn turned back that Tanya whispered, "Was Tony Stark really this strict of a
father? This must be a first for you, and as your best friend, it's my duty to inform you of the
most amazing truth. That you, my dear Brook, have feelings for the one and only Peter
Parker"

Feelings? She’d just explained said cluster of emotions quite clearly that…

Oh...she meant those kinds of feelings. The romantic sense. Norepinephrine hormones are
released during attraction, chemicals said to make humans energetic and euphoric. From what
the Red Room had told her, such a release of that specific hormone could lead to decreased
appetite and insomnia. Hence the human phase where one can be so infatuated that they can't
eat or sleep.

A weakness for sure. One Brook should not be capable of feeling, not when she was smarter
than to succumb to such stupidity.

"Are you insane? I just met the guy three days ago," Brook whispered harshly, clutching her
Literature book harder than before while hoping none of the passing students had heard the
absurd words.

Tanya shot her a disbelieving look, much like the one Fury had portrayed when she'd killed
all those holograms yesterday.

"You do like him, admit it! If he was just a friend, you'd say the same adorable words about
Harry and Ned. But they don't make you nearly as happy, and I bet you don't know as many
little things about them either"

Of course she...

Now that she thought about it, Peter did make her feel particularly happy. He had even lifted
her spirits in a manner of seconds this morning when she'd been left seething all of last night
at her failure. He'd been one of the main reasons she decided not to leave New York too.

But Black Widows weren't supposed to feel such things. It was a waste of time.

Pepper and Tony's words from the mall outing suddenly replayed in her mind. Of the tale of
her sestra's past romantic interest in Dr. Banner. That should've been impossible too, and
she'd spared a few minutes now and then wondering if the words had been true after all.
Because if Natalia Romanova could feel such emotions, embracing them to the point that she
had been in an actual relationship, then that meant...

But how could Brooklyn fall for someone like Peter Parker so soon? Sneaking a glare back
towards the distant group, Brook noted the way her eyes went straight for the nerdiest
member of them all. How he seemed to shine brighter than the rest of them.

Maybe it was just because she'd spent more time with him than the others? That made sense.

When he beamed at a joke Harry said, Brook finally dared to focus on her mind enough that
she felt her heart clutch a little harder. Not in the heart-attack sort of sense. From what she
could tell, her health was intact unless Tanya had poisoned her.

Wide-eyed, Brooklyn couldn't help but say, "Chush' sobach'ya"

Bullshit.

"I don't know Spanish, only Italian" Tanya commented with a smile, "But I do know
helplessly stuck by a realization of emotions, and that was it. Wasn't it?"

Brooklyn didn't even bother correcting Tanya that she'd cursed in Russian, not Spanish. She
was too busy trying to will her mind to stop that nonsense of emotions that would only lead
to a weakness she could not afford.

It wasn’t as easy as she’d thought. Things that confused Brook made her mind panic at the
unknown of it all.

A gentle hand was placed on the shoulder of Brook's blue dress, all while Tanya was busy
whispering things about how cute it was that Iron Man's daughter fell in love with a normal
boy, but Brook could only keep her mind focused on a few words from earlier.

Something that on top of all this foolishness, still didn’t make sense.

"Why am I an idiot then? You seem excited that I may have ‘feelings’ for Parker. Which I
don't by the way," Brook said.

That's when Tanya's emotions took a turn, and her usual smile fell for the first time they’d
met. She’d seen the cheerleader scowl at Harry now and again, but the absence of that smile
almost made Tanya look older, pained in a way Brook struggled to understand.

That was the first time in their brief friendship that Brooklyn saw the girl upset, saw it, and
had no idea what to do but stand there and wait for an explanation.

Her literature partner sneakily pointed a thumb toward where their friend's stood.

"We’re idiots because you like Peter…and I like MJ," she said, then after a deep breath, she
added, "and they just so happen to like each other"
What? Peter and MJ? Gentle and benevolent Peter Parker had feelings for the serious and
strong-willed Michelle Jones?

Brooklyn couldn't care less for subtlety now, she looked past Tanya's tall frame to analyze the
way the two interacted, something the assassin had never bothered noting before.

That's when she realized it. No wonder Tanya knew, it was clear as day.

The longing gazes from MJ when Peter wasn't looking, the way Peter's eye shone just as
Tanya's did when they beheld the naturaly curly-haired girl. It surprised Brooklyn when the
sight of it felt like a blow to her soul. It was an unusual sort of ache, like when her otets said
that stuff about not wanting a daughter. An uncomfortable emotion that should not exist...

"Then why do you like MJ if you know she likes someone else? That seems illogical" Brook
asked.

Tanya smiled sadly, making a show of checking her make-up on a compact mirror, "We're in
High School, heartbreak is bound to happen silly! Either way, I can't help it. That's when you
know something is real, when everything is telling you to stay away from a person but you
just can't. It goes against all logic, my dearest Brooklyn"

That was pathetic.

Why would Brooklyn ever like someone who was not a guaranteed partner, not that she'd let
herself like anyone to begin with. Maybe the Red Room was wrong about love not existing
(as proven by Tony and Pepper), but that didn't mean Brook was capable of feeling like that,
much less willing to take the risk.

Most of all, Brooklyn definitely didn't have feelings for Peter Parker. That was some sort of
joke or mistake, and she'd prove it to Tanya because she was an ex-assassin, not some
hopeless romantic who yearned for love.

Perhaps the Red Room had been right on that particular topic, love was much too much of a
burden to be needed.

Even so, for the remainder of the day, those words could not leave her mind for even just a
second of peace.

Peter POV-

"Did you like the candy?" Peter asked, quickly pressing the gate code and opening it to let
Brooklyn pass. The girl, much like with the rest of the walk home, remained quiet with only a
nod of acknowledgment as she ate a few red vines from her bag.

Peter had noticed that she'd been distant most of the school day, even when she'd been in a
good mood this morning during their walk.

Brooklyn was upset, enough that she did the minimum effort during the baseball match
during P.E. The young teen had been rather silent during the lab today, enough so that even
Harry noticed her change in attitude. Throughout Chemistry, she’d worked in silence with a
pensive frown on her face. As for Spanish at the end of the day, the only thing he could hear
from her was the running of her pencil as Brook took notes she clearly didn't need.

Even at lunch, Brooklyn had barely batted an eyelash when Flash had passed by with a not-
so-gentleman-like comment about her outfit. There wasn’t a sign of restrained anger he’d
grown familiar with.

It had made him worry, to say the least.

Peter had witnessed firsthand how she'd stormed out of the SHIELD building yesterday, how
getting scolded by Fury had left a sour taste in her mouth. But then Mr. Rogers came back
into the observation room saying Brooklyn had agreed to eat dinner with everyone tomorrow.
Peter thought all was fine after that, especially because Steve Rogers was one of the best pep-
talk givers of all time!

Then, when he saw her this morning, all traces of the deadly assassin from yesterday had
been gone. Though it took him a while to get used to seeing her as Brooklyn the Friend again,
he'd eventually forgotten all he'd seen yesterday and managed to relax.

Brooklyn was actually helping with that by being unusually kind that morning. She'd offered
him strawberry jam for the croissants May had bought for them. Strawberry jam!

Yet, now she walked slowly, gaze locked on the ground as she consumed the candy he'd
bought her in an effort to lift her spirits. The store was right across the street, and he assumed
that would be enough to make her feel better.

He'd been wrong.

It was unfair that she was stressing so much over the SHIELD training. Despite the massive
killing spree, Peter thought she did very well in terms of skill. Even if the Avengers had been
relatively silent when he'd gone back into the observation room, still stunned by what they
had witnessed...

When Brooklyn made it to her apartment with a very quiet thank you and goodbye, Peter
knew he had to do something better. Usually, when Brooklyn thanked someone at school, it
was as if it were an effort to get out the words...not today though, she just sounded tired.

They came out like a meaningless afterthought.

Once home, Peter noticed May had gone to work early, so he settled on the couch and
continued emptying out the various sweets from his bag. Being a superhuman had its
downfalls, one of them was the amount of hunger he had at all times.

But even when he'd consumed the entire bag and regained his energy, the hero couldn't help
but continue to worry for his new friend.

His day had been amazing all things considered, with a few aced tests, no problems from
Flash, and MJ had even told him his hair looked different. But the good different! He'd spent
a generous part of his morning combing out any knots to make it fluffier than usual. And it
paid off because MJ liked it.

But...Brooklyn was still upset. Peter was not going to lie to himself, after the display from
yesterday, he was a little worried as to what the girl would do when she was not in a good
mood. Though a part of him knew Brooklyn would never go on some killing spree, his mind
was not so certain at times.

Maybe Mr. Stark knew what to do. He was her father after all.

So, with renowned spirits and a plan, Peter quickly fetched his phone and sent a text to Tony
Stark, hoping the man wasn't too busy to answer.

Hey Mr. Stark. I hope I'm not bothering u, but I noticed Brooklyn looked very upset today at
school. Did something happen that I don't know about?

Surprisingly, a rapid reply came before Peter even made it to his room.

Is she still upset about yesterday? I"ll tell Nick to give the kid a break for today from training,
it's just paperwork and interviews she can do tomorrow after all. Good job on keeping an eye
on her, Underoos.

Peter felt his smile widen at Mr. Strak’s praise but stopped short when further texts popped
up.

You both still have to come for dinner though. Wanda, Capsicle, and Tiny have been fussing
about it all morning. I will not have this mess be for nothing.

Tony's praise was always something that made Peter's day all the better, knowing Brook
wouldn't be pushing herself today was also a plus. But she'd still have to be alone at home all
day until dinner.

Peter would invite her over but he had things to do today...unless he brought her along. YES!
That was bound to help!

Peter didn't know the rules of what Brooklyn was and wasn't allowed to do. And even though
she gave everyone quite the scare yesterday, going on a little errand should be fine
right? Maybe it could help the young Stark warm up to Spider-man a little more. Serve a dual
purpose.

He didn't want Tony to take this the wrong way, like the thing about Peter walking Brooklyn
home on her first day. Now that Peter thought about it, Mr.Stark had no idea he was walking
with her to and from school now. Would he be ok with that?

For Brooklyn's sake, Peter typed away, then set his phone on the bed while he got his suit on.

Mr.Stark, 2day is the day I usually go to northern Queens for the month. Would it be alright if
I ask ur daughter to come with me. Then we can meet up with u in the same place as always.

I just don't think she should be alone right now.

Seconds later, a response arrived. Climbing onto the top bunk of his bed, Peter lifted his mask
to see a string of messages from his phone displayed before him.

Underoos, I don't know if that's the best idea. We don't know how she'll deal with it, for all I
know, she'll rip bodies apart.

You can go, have fun you two.

Both messages were so contradicting that Peter made sure to read them twice. So could he go
with her? Or not? Thankfully, it all became clear a few seconds before Peter had to type out a
long confusing paragraph begging for permission.

That was Pepper. SHE thinks it's a good idea, and she's the boss. Just make sure my daughter
is safe, if something happens to her, there isn't a place in this world you can hide from me.

That message brought a chill down Peter's spine, but it was also nice to see Mr. Stark was
worrying about his daughter. Peter knew the Starks hadn't started out that well, but this
seemed like some sort of progress!

Not wasting any more valuable time better suited for helping a friend, Peter jumped down the
bunkbed and placed his mask on.

KAREN, his A.I., greeted him as always and displayed all the essentials before him. There
was always the possibility Tony would turn on KAREN's cameras to see how everything
went, but it was a small price to pay for helping out a friend. Still conscious of this fact, Peter
carefully made his way out the window and swung around the building discretely before
coming down onto one of Brook's windows along the fire escape.

The curtains of her home were down, but the window was open. With obstructed vision, Peter
pushed his way past the flowing fabric and as soon as his feet hit the floor, the teen looked
around the space wearily.

He'd been here as Peter Parker a handful of times, but never like this. It was a neat space, all
open concept but with few personal items as of yet, though she had made the effort of adding
the photos from her SHIELD files onto some of the frames above the fireplace. Not exactly
heartwarming considering most of them must've been taken without her knowing.

Maybe he'd print out the ones his friends took when they went out to eat after school with
Brooklyn, that way she would have something a little more memorable to put in the empty
frames. The teen made a mental note to ask Ned's help for that later, as well as something
else related to that issue that Ms. Potts could hopefully assist with.

When the hero finally dared to emerge into the living room, he almost tripped on one of the
few things that looked like they belonged to Brooklyn before she’d arrived at this place. A
stack of dusty and torn books, the titles long vanished with time.

On her couch next to them, there was a scattered iPod, an iPod Classic like his. Retro tech.
It was almost silly to think that a girl who could kill so easily, had the time for literature and
music. A fact that helped ease Peter's nerves about where today might be heading.

The coffee table beside Spider-man was scattered with homework assignments, some of
which he too would have to finish. But somewhere between the stacks of books, he could
smell the candy he'd bought.

The candy box was empty of all its contents, and next to it was a small list of some of the
candies she'd consumed, the ones she'd asked him about on the walk up the stairs. Brooklyn
had likely written them down because she'd really liked them, right? Even if they hadn't
visibly improved her mood, at least she'd eaten them.

It struck Peter that the list was his friend figuring out things she liked and didn't. Normal
things he and every other teen took for granted as part of their youth, but Brooklyn had never
experienced before.

It was both endearing to see that list as it was depressing.

Peter's gaze then focused on another foreign object, a torn shoe box on the couch, one that
looked so out of place with the finery around the room that Peter felt almost compelled to
open it. That was until a set of steps came out of the kitchen…and a kitchen knife that would
have struck his face had it not been thanks to Peter’s superhuman senses.

When he dodged down, Peter looked up to see the sturdy knife impale itself into the dark
walls, narrowly missing the TV. At the beginning of its trajectory by the open entrance to the
kitchen stood Brooklyn who let out a sigh, staring down at him in disappointment.

"You could have been killed," she said, voice serious and devoid of emotion as she beheld the
new damage to her wall, "I thought you were someone sent here to kill me"

Peter stood up on shaky legs, knowing full well he could have died just now. If only he'd
thought to announce his arrival, what was he thinking!? What he was doing was not thinking
at all, too worried about lifting Brooklyn’s spirits that for a second he forgot that same girl
had threatened to kill Spider-man…forgot that if what happened yesterday was truly
upsetting her, seeing him might not have been the best choice after all.

But this was about changing that established anger, and if he had to dodge a few more knives
to achieve that secondary goal, it would be worth it.

"Sorry!" he replied, noticing that KAREN had activated his deeper voice. Good thing too,
Peter had completely forgotten about his secret identity for a second.

When he dusted off invisible specks on his suit, the hero looked towards the kitchen to see
Brooklyn was now leaning on the nearby counter, pulling back something that looked like
one of Mr. Stark's blasters. There was no mistaking it, it was definitely Mr. Stark's tech.
Brooklyn quickly retracted the metal from her hand, and in seconds, it turned into the red
watch she always wore.
Peter had no idea Mr. Stark had given her one of those. How cool! That was until he realized
he could have been blasted to death, then the concept became less appealing.

He'd seen her shoot yesterday, and knew that no matter the gun she’d never missed a target
just like Ms. Natasha. With the speed of the blaster, Peter would have likely been hit before
his enhanced senses would have warned him of the incoming threat.

Brooklyn didn't seem all that bothered by the thought, she just reached behind the pillar by
her side and pulled out what looked to be a...cigarette!? One of those electric ones, this one
with a blue light at its tip flashing between her fingers.

Peter couldn't believe it, though perhaps it made more sense than he thought.

Still, he asked, "You smoke? Aren't you too young for that?"

Brooklyn shot him a dry laugh, twisting the cigarette between her fingers, "Just because I'm
an assassin doesn't mean I’m an idiot who thinks smoking makes you look tough. I take care
of my body, this is just an essential oil diffuser. It's to relax…and right now I’m using it to
convince myself not to kill the intruder that barged into my home unannounced"

To further her point she took a whiff off the tip, with smoke surprisingly coming out of her
nose. With his enhanced senses, Peter could smell the rich hints of lavender across the room,
but not the tobacco he was familiar with from the shady streets of Queens.

So...Brooklyn didn't smoke, that was just oils?

"Oh, sorry," Peter said sheepishly, realizing he’d already started this conversation all wrong.

Brooklyn shrugged, making her way over to the couch before him. She settled down lazily as
if his presence didn’t matter, though he noticed the way she winced at her side before
inhaling more of the substance in hand.

"Whatever" she replied with smoke out her nose, "You probably think way worse of me after
yesterday. Since you were on call to train with me, I assume you saw the killing? As Queen's
hero, you must be here to make sure I don't kill any of your loyal subjects, right?" Brooklyn
added with a fake pout that looked more menacing than her being upset.

Peter wasn't sure if he was allowed to sit, and who knew how many more weapons she had
on hand if he got too close. So he remained standing awkwardly, feet playing with the soft
white rug beneath him.

"Actually, I'm here to see if you're ok," Peter said, hating how his deeper voice made
everything sound more aggressive than sincere.

Placing her legs up on the couch, the girl shot him a very familiar look that was almost
identical to the one Tony had when he wanted to tease him, "Why wouldn't I be? Did my
otets ask you to make sure I was being a good citizen? Captain Rogers perhaps making sure I
didn’t leave town?"

He had no clue what that word meant.

The Russian always caught him off guard. Unlike her English, her voice became stronger and
more aggressive in a sense. It reminded Peter that he stood before a Russian assassin more
than anything.

But it didn’t succeed in distracting him from the fact that she had reason to believe Mr.
Rogers might have reason to believe she wanted to leave Queens. He hadn’t considered that
after what happened yesterday, Brooklyn would want to get away from it all, want to leave
Mr. Stark and the others. Leave him.

Not Spider-man of course, Brooklyn would likely sell out his hero persona to Satan for a corn
chip. But he’d thought that as Peter Parker…that maybe she’d grown to like hanging out with
him. She’d certainly never shown any indication otherwise.

Pocketing that saddening information, he realized that lifting up her spirits might be more
important than he’d thought. Brooklyn HAD to stay, for Mr. Stark’s sake who would surely
grieve at the loss of a daughter he already seemed to worry about so much, so that she might
one day grow to accept the family she’d so luckily stumbled upon.

Selfishly, he also didn’t want to lose her as a friend and knew Ned and the others at school
would feel the same.

"I'm actually here since you don't have to leave for the compound so soon. I have an errand I
need to run beforehand and was wondering if you might want to join me?"

As soon as the words left Peter's mouth, he realized how stupid that request sounded.

Brooklyn didn’t react to the words, only moved to turn off her cigarette, no...diffuser, and
slowly placed it down on the coffee table. Afterward, her brows were scrunched up in
question, and from what he'd learned about her these past few days, Peter could tell she was
likely doubting his intentions.

Like she doubted everyone and everything around her.

The Stark went back to leaning on her couch lazily, but at the same time with the confidence
of a queen about to hold court. With the grace of someone like Padme Amidala.

"You know the last thing I wanna do in this world is spend time with you," she said boldly,
"besides, I'm not cleared for solo missions without proper supervision"

Peter smiled, excitedly settling down on the other side of the sofa despite the possible
consequences that kept ringing in the back of his head. Mostly by the memory of Brooklyn
straddling him yesterday ready to punch Spider-man in the face.

"That's the thing, this isn't a mission! Please! I promise that if you hate it, then you can push
me down the tallest floor of the compound," he pleaded, watching as her eyes wavered with
consideration.

"You'll just web yourself to safety"

Peter nodded, "But won't pushing me make you feel better? Besides, Pepper told me I should
take you with me"

That last bit had been a bargain. He'd heard the other Avengers joke about how Brooklyn
only listened to Ms. Potts more than once. Peter couldn't blame her, even he had an
impossible time denying any orders the woman gave him.

His friend was still for a few minutes, then wordlessly stood up, making her way to a door on
the left side of the room, "You're lucky I have nothing else to do before dinner. I think I
scared the shit out of Fury so much yesterday that he gave me the day off"

Spider-man didn't bother correcting her, claiming credit for her free day might just get her to
refuse it. Instead, Peter silently waited until the girl reemerged from what he guessed was her
bedroom, clad in a new change of clothes.

Brooklyn now wore some loose jean-overalls with a bright yellow long sleeve under, plus a
small bag around her shoulders. In a way, the Stark girl looked normal, nothing like how one
would expect the daughter of a billionaire to dress, or an assassin for that matter. He quite
liked it though, it made her look less scary, which would end up working in his favor today.

Peter watched as she strapped on a pair of common Converse and opened her apartment door,
waiting for him to go through.

"We won't go out that way," he said, trying to hide the hints of the smile behind his mask. In
truth, Peter hadn’t thought he’d get her to agree to all of this.

Brooklyn laughed, a sarcastic sound he was finally getting used to not flinch at.

"You want to go down the fire escape to the metro station? Good luck with that, I'm taking
the stairs"

Peter hurriedly ran over to her, placing a hand on Brooklyn’s shoulder, which she thankfully
didn't try to break. She stared up at him in disbelief though, as if she'd expected him to
remove the hand quickly as he'd done so every other time they came into contact.

For the sake of her distrust and clear discomfort, he did so.

"No, what I meant is that we're swinging there," he clarified, pointing at the living room
window he'd come from.

Her response was a quick and flustered, "Hell no"

Just as Brook began to retreat to her bedroom, he followed closely behind her, pleading, "It's
safe, I won't drop you, I promise!"

"You dropped me once already!" she argued, stopping mid-step to look back at him with a
challenging smirk. It brought back flashbacks of that day of the attack at the Avenger’s
Compound when her body had gone limp and he’d barely managed to shoot out a cluster of
webs to keep her body from hitting the flood below head first.
"True! But I also caught you twice," he argued

Thankfully, his point got across, because Brooklyn slowly made her way to him as he
backtracked towards the window slowly, as if trying to lure a dangerous predator into a cage.

When Peter climbed out onto the fire escape, Brooklyn turned back and asked FRIDAY if it
was able to close everything in the apartment. Mr. Stark's A.I. surpassingly answered back
and promised to do so.

With a reluctant nod of acceptance, Brooklyn made her way out to the red railing of the fire
escape, staring down at the many floors down below, then at the buildings that made up the
city. With a sigh, the girl tied her auburn hair back and placed her phone in the bag resting
across her shoulders.

With one last glare, she turned back to him, still seemingly weary to be in his breathing
space.

Peter was suddenly nervous too. Though it was almost impossible that he'd drop her, the
worry remained. Not only would he have Brooklyn to deal with if he did, but also Mr. Stark
if things didn't go well today during his little errand.

But this was supposed to be a time for his new friend to get to know Spider-man and
hopefully not hate him as much, not to mention lift her spirits enough that whatever thoughts
she had of leaving would vanish...that was enough for him to extend his arms out towards her
still form.

Brook glared at the webbed hand, though her eyes weren’t just cautious and full of distrust.
He could’ve sworn there was a bit of wonder in them, as if no one had ever offered that kind
gesture or perhaps asked that much trust from her.

He waited, not really breathing as he worried about what she would choose. Because despite
his own agenda of wanting to help, if she refused to go, he would not press the matter. Aside
from it just being the right thing to do, he had a feeling forcing Brooklyn to do things never
ended well for anyone.

"Don't drop me, chelovek-pauk" Brooklyn warned then, rushing forward to lock her hands
behind his neck with a look of pure disgust. He didn’t care, not when she’d given him a
chance to prove himself trustworthy.

It was still funny how she looked like touching Spider-man was physically painful, but when
Brooklyn had accidentally been knocked into Peter this morning in the metro, she'd
frantically glanced to make sure he hadn’t been injured by her somehow.

But maybe this trip would change all that at last. He'd make sure of it!

With reluctance stemming from worry, Peter easily and gently lifted the young Stark into his
arms, clutching her legs with care as he tried to ignore the way her body cringed at the close
distance between them. At his touch.c
One she was securely against his body in a bridal position (not that there was anything
remotely bridal about it. That was just the name of the hold!) Peter extended the hand that
was holding onto her back and shot a web out to the tree branch from the rooftop garden of
the next building.

When he climbed up onto the clean red rail, he looked down at Brooklyn’s angered
expression and dared to ask, "What did you call me earlier in Russian?"

The girl finally relented a teasing smirk, probably the closest Peter would get to an actual
smile, as she explained, "Chelovek-pauk? It means Spider-man. Even I have enough class to
not curse you out every second of the day"

He found the way the foreign words rolled off her mouth to be enthralling. It somehow made
his hero name sound...different than the way others referred to it. Good or Bad, he wasn't
sure. Instead, he just smiled, even if Brooklyn couldn't see it, and jumped off the fire escape.

Unlike the time he'd taken May out swinging along the city, or when he took civilians up to
the skies, Brooklyn did not scream. Her hold became increasingly stronger from where she
clutched his arms and back, but nothing menacing like that choking hold she'd taken to attack
him with on multiple occasions.

As they swung from building to building across the expanse of Queens, the only signs of her
distress were the quick intakes of breath and the way her head buried along his neck.

Peter waved at the curious pedestrians down on the streets and the workers looking out the
windows of various skyscrapers as he passed by. A few times, he'd try to get Brooklyn to
open her eyes and enjoy the view. Each of those times, he was threatened with the loss
of...well, a part of his body he did not want missing. So he continued to swing around the city
without pressing further, heading towards a familiar location he always found himself
looking forward to visiting every month.

In truth, he originally started going as a favor. But every time he returned, the visits became
more and more fun. Peter only hoped Brook would see it that way too, that it would help
chase away the girl he'd seen killing all those holograms yesterday, or at the very least
become a new experience for her.

Since they were pressed for time, Peter took the quick route through the city, until they made
it to the residential homes of northern Queens. In less than fifteen minutes, Peter lowered the
two slowly down towards an alleyway.

At first, Brooklyn seemed apprehensive to let go of him, but once she registered their close
proximity, Peter's friend practically bolted out of his arms. She then proceeded to complain
that he'd gone too fast and that some of those free falls had been unnecessary, but she hadn't
yelled at him.

In the seconds it took for her to tame the loose hairs around her head and smoothed down the
invisible wrinkles on her overalls, Peter tried his best to apologize. He'd been relatively
careful, but being up above, swinging without a care in the world...he tended to get lost in
that sometimes. So yes, maybe some of those freefalls had been unnecessary.
Overall, Brooklyn didn't seem that upset, so he counted that as a small win.

Spider-man (1) Deadly Assassin Thoughts (0).

Thankfully, the streets of this particular neighborhood were usually empty at this time of day,
a calculated move on Peter's part. While people were busy enjoying the afternoon events at
the park or having meals with their families, Spider-man was free to walk down the street in
his suit without grabbing attention to himself.

On normal days, he'd swing right to the front door of his destination, but he wanted Brooklyn
to have some time to cool down before they made it inside.

They spent the small walk in silence, Brooklyn being too enthralled by her surroundings to
continue to yell at him. Well, he couldn't tell if he found the peaceful suburban street
beautiful or if she was looking for threats…but she hadn't demanded to return home yet. That
in itself was already a partial win.

When he stopped before a mint-colored home, Peter watched as his companion eyed the
white picket fence with reluctance, then the large tree in the front yard where toys lay
scattered at its base.

Peter could hear the sounds of cartoons playing inside, and he caught a whiff of chicken
nuggets from the distant kitchen, and...was that Mac 'n cheese?

"Is this your home? Because I don't have an interest in meeting your spider family at all,"
Brooklyn whispered, scanning her gaze along the property. Her chocolate-colored eyes
lingered on the gray van parked out front with a family of stickers on the back, the colorful
chalk drawings on the pavement before them, and even the soft flowing curtains on the
windows of the massive two-story home.

Peter laughed, "Not my home, but you remember Scott Lang right? He's Ant-Man"

Brooklyn stopped to consider, then nodded, "The guy who can fit five pancakes in his mouth
at once. How could I forget?"

Scott could do that!? Nice…

"Well," Peter continued, gesturing to the home before them, "This is his daughter's house"

Brooklyn laughed, "That man is practically a kid in an adult's body. I had no clue someone
like him could have offspring"

Peter had been slightly shocked as well when he'd been pulled aside by Scott and entrusted
with his secret. But once he met the family of three the man treasured above all else, it had all
made sense.

The family had moved to Queen's temporarily so that Cassie could be closer to her dad, but
visits within the compound were only allowed once a year, so that's where Peter came in.
Spider-man quickly explained to Brooklyn how Scott had asked him to check up on his
daughter every now and then since the man couldn't leave the compound as per the terms of
his…punishment. Though letters were allowed, Scott never felt comfortable agents reading
them (plus it reminded the hero too much of his days in prison, because yes, he’d gone to
prison once), so he gave them to Peter for special delivery.

"And you come every month then? Deliver Scott's notes then leave?" Brooklyn asked,
playing with the latch of the gate.

Peter jumped over the picket fence with ease, but halted on the other side, waiting for
Brooklyn to join him. She did eventually, still eyeing the place like it was a trap of some sort.

"Cassie's dad is a police officer, and Ms. Maggie runs errands on Wednesdays…so I come to
hang out then" he clarified, extending a hand for Brooklyn to inch closer to the porch steps.

The young Stark eyed the swing bench full of discarded toys as it swayed with the gentle
wind, the various potted plants decorated with messy crayon drawings of happy families,
heroes, and various types of ants. Peter was momentarily confused as to why Brooklyn
beheld these things with such care since none of them were of potential danger to her, yet
once he remembered her particular childhood experience, he opted to just ring the bell
without a comment.

As the slow chimes rang inside the house, a few hurried steps made their way to the two
teens waiting outside. Once the main door and the screen door opened, Spider-man's legs
were quickly tackled by a little girl.

The hero couldn't help but pick her up into his arms, spinning the squealing girl a few times
in greeting. Oh, how he loved to come here! It really had been too long since his last visit.

"Hey! How are you?" he asked the little girl as she clutched the sides of his mask fondly.

The little girl pulled the hero into another embrace as she mumbled into the fabric of his
neck, "Mommy told me you would come! I'm so happy now!"

As he continued to embrace his little friend, Peter turned beside him just in time to see
Brooklyn's eyes go wide. The assassin was staring at the young girl without an ounce of
anger or annoyance. If anything, the young Stark looked slightly saddened.

"Spidy, who's that?" Cassie asked, shoving her disheveled brown hair back with a smile as
she pointed Brooklyn's way.

Though he tried not to, Peter smiled when he beheld Brooklyn's shocked expression as he
explained, "Cassie, this is a new friend. Her name is Brooklyn"

A new friend, a way of introducing Brook that was not for Cassie’s benefit, but in hopes of
easing the Stark’s nerves. Or at least Peter hoped so...

Instantly, right before his eyes, it was like something within Brooklyn disarmed itself. All
traces of weariness and the tightness of her muscles vanished for a second as Cassie’s smile
widened, shining brightly like the sun.

It occurred to Peter that perhaps that knife hurled at his head had been worth it after all, for
he had a feeling this evening might do more good than he’d bargained for.

At the sight, Brooklyn examined the surroundings, then without taking her eyes off Cassie,
she took a single and weary step their way.

Damian hesitated to make his way beyond the massive doors of the Manor, which opened
almost as if by its young master’s command (or a certain cretin’s technology). The hesitation
didn’t last long, it never did nowadays as he merely took a step inside the space’s warmth.
Tired from a long and useless day spent at school, he pushed aside his daily frustrations of
not only feeling unaccomplished with the lack of a challenge in his normal civilian life…but
also from the unique exhaustion that came with dealing with it.

As he’d come to learn since his arrival to this bleak and dark city, a day could not truly be
complained about unless it had been affected by a flashy criminal terrorizing the already non-
existent peace hanging by a thread. That is what defined a good and bad day around here, not
robberies, deaths, or the annoyance of a boy meant for harder challenges than attending a
school where kids were learning things he’d mastered in his youth.

With a tired sigh, the teen made his way along the familiar rooms of the massive home fit for
royalty. Tugging off his red tie and discarding his navy-blue uniform jacket on a nearby
couch, he breathed in the rare silence of the family living room. After spending precious
hours in the rowdy company of pathetic teenagers, this is the kind of relief he was owed for
his efforts, however short-lasting it would be.

Gazing at the massive family photo propped on the wall on a frame of purest gold, he
frowned at the sight of the cluster of siblings that had attended the same Academy as he was
currently stuck in, the ones that had assured him spending time amongst those his own age
would somehow be of benefit to him.

A hidden benefit he’d only be grateful for if he took the chance.

Maybe they’d been foolish enough to surround themselves with the masses of useless
company, perhaps they’d simply relished in the normalcy of it all.

He did not, would not. Not when he’d been born something akin to royalty, burdened with a
glorious purpose that carried on to this day…albeit with a different objective and guidance.
He didn't have time to worry about simple school assignments, petty drama of who hates or
likes who, nor did he wish to entertain anyone’s pathetic attempts to grow closer to him for
the money he possessed.

He’d allowed one friend into his life, and even the half-Kryptonian tested his patience most
days.
But standing in that massive room all by himself, the teen couldn't help but be bothered by
something. It wasn’t the slightly skewed collar of his white long sleeve, nor was it the weight
of his backpack that was filled with more weapons than scholarly items.

It was something within himself, the sneaking feeling that sometimes kept him up at night. A
longing for a challenge, for something to make the days seem less like a predictable and
easily manageable routine. In some ways, the life he lived now was not without action and
mysteries to be solved…but despite its moments of entertainment, nothing made him feel as
alive as his siblings often described their own existence.

He wondered if somewhere out there, someone knew what it was like to breeze through
mundane tasks of teenage life, if anyone could ever hold their own against him in a fight…
more so than that, he pondered uselessly if there was anyone fighting their very building
blocks to fit a new mold just as he was.

It was laughable to think that way. The answer was obviously no.

Damian was one of a kind, a superior being untouched by all others he surrounded himself
with. No matter what father or his siblings said, normal life was of no use, especially when he
took to avoid it as much as he could despite their best attempts.

Now, he was just waiting for the next danger to fight, the next villain to stop, all to try and
alter the repetitiveness of his days. He’d put on that cowl mask, deal with whatever fool
dared to challenge him, patch up his wounds, and wait till the next imbecile made itself
known.

That's what a good day was supposed to look like, what a good life was by anyone’s
definition here in this home. He supposed it was pleasant in some ways, to have purpose…no
matter that the creeping emptiness made itself known once in a while, it could easily be
ignored, for it was not important.

There was no answer to the emptiness, and after years of living with it, Damian Wayne could
take on the task to stifle it aside forever. Letting out another sigh, he turned his gaze to the
left side of the room where he could hear faint commotion from the sitting room meant for
family meetings.

Noise, otherwise known as signs of life, did not beckon him as it should. It never had.
Annoyance already visible on his pristine features, he steeled himself for the questions about
his day, the ruffling of his impeccable hair, and the overall stifling presence were those inside
the room. Never having considered himself a coward, Damian opened the door towards the
small antechamber…and took a single step into the space towards those he called family.

The meeting just so happened to be more of a debate, one on who would join father at the
next upcoming social event none of them were particularly fond of. Probably the only thing
he had in common with those seated around him. It was an event Damian swore to himself
he would not be roped into, and with the deadly strength of his words he’d developed as a
child, he’d easily argue his way out of attending such a useless gathering successfully…
Chapter End Notes

Finally! Our first glimpse at the youngest Wayne, albeit a short one.
If you've read this story previously, you'll know any and all scenes including Damian
were not there before, that's because I'd wanted his actual meeting with Brooklyn to be
his first appearance. In time, I decided that perhaps it would be even better to catch
glimpses of who he is and what goes on in his head without actually seeing too much of
him, so that the first meeting still comes with many surprises and revelations.
I just thought it would be nice to see that despite being apart and for all their differences,
they may be currently fighting the same silent fight. Living with the same uncertainty.

Anyways, enjoy!
 The Edible Jewelry

Brooklyn POV-

Spider-man's deep voice did not seem to startle the little girl one bit, the appearance of a hero
at her doorstep nothing more than a usual occurrence.

Just how many times had this guy been here? Just how often had he appeared at this
unsuspecting home to be recognized as a cherished guest?

Before Brook could properly greet the fragile girl in Spider-man's arms, or even register that
image properly, a blonde woman peeked her head out the door with a kitchen towel in hand.
Her appearance alone reminded Brooklyn that she was in an unknown place with a hero she
hardly considered an ally. It brought back the reminder that a threat could still be on the
horizon, even if she'd yet to reach for a weapon.

"I thought it'd be you! Always on time," the woman said, sending a bright smile Spider-man's
way before those same eyes locked on the intruder of their greeting.

The woman was not apprehensive at the unfamiliar sight, but instead chose to stretch out her
hand Brooklyn's way as if she too was a welcome guest. Brook eyed the hand, which was
uncalloused (meaning likely no experience with weapons), the NEW flashy diamond ring on
her finger (signs of a recent partner, possible weakness to use against the woman).

Hesitantly, Brook extended out her hand as well and accepted the gesture.

"Now who might you be, sweetie?" the woman asked.

An assassin. Spy. An abomination to the world by Fury's vocabulary.

So many ways to reply, none of which Brook felt like saying out loud, or knew how. With a
child present, it's not like the teen was keen on being honest.

Someone beat her to an explanation though.

"Her name is Brooklyn Stark, she came with me today to meet Cassie. I hope it's ok that
she..." the hero was cut off as the woman lunged at Brook, crushing her into a nice warm hug.
An embrace that though unexpected, Brook tried her hardest not to flinch from, much less
draw a weapon before the child's eyes.

How silly and foreign. An embrace. Like the hugs Pepper and May gave out so trustingly and
freely.

"Oh! I’ve heard all about you, you poor thing! Of course, you can stay here for as long as you
want!" Cassie's mom said, bushing Brooklyn's hair back the way May had towards Peter
more than once. A motherly hold.

The girl prided herself in not flinching away from that either.
"She's staying!?" Cassie questioned with big brown eyes full of hope while quickly
squirming out of Spider-man's hold. And as soon as her tiny bare feet hit the ground, the girl
latched onto Brook's legs with a wide smile, "You're a girl!"

Brooklyn wasn't sure how to respond to that obvious statement. Though frail and endangered
children were her one weakness in the world, the people she would protect at all cost...she
still had no clue how to deal with them sometimes.

The kids back in her old apartment complex back in Brooklyn were either younger than
Cassie, at which point they had no clue what was going on around them, or slightly older
than her, so they spent most of their time on their phones, much to Brook's happiness. It made
earning that cash all the easier.

But this ten-year-old girl was full of energy, with just enough cognitive presence to
understand everything Brook would say, but still be as playful as a toddler.

How could someone like Spider-man deal with this?

The girl was prepared to just get this over with, maybe have Spider-man deal with the
babysitting he'd unwillingly dragged her into. But when she looked down at the girl's big
brown eyes, the pure joy in them...Brook just knew she'd end up relenting to anything the kid
wanted.

"I am a girl, correct. It's nice to meet you, Cassie," Brook said, shocked when she heard her
own voice soften.

Cassie beamed, "Your last name is Stark? Like Iron Man?"

Damn. This kid was perceptive.

"Yes. He's my..." darn it, why was it still so hard to say it, "my dad"

The little girl giggled frantically as she rushed back into the house without a word with the
sound of the twinkling charms of the porch following her retreating form.

Had Brook said something wrong?

The woman, who Spider-man had introduced earlier as Maggie, was in the midst of putting
her black heels on and scrambling to reach for her purse somewhere near the entrance of the
home.

"Well, as always, I should be back in three hours, four tops if there's traffic," she said, then
turned her full attention to the hero in tights, "I always feel bad that you end up babysitting
but refuse any money. You sure you don’t want to earn a bit of extra cash?"

The hero laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head, "There is no need, a hero's job is
to help. Besides this is a favor for Mr. Scott and I genuinely like looking after Cassie. It's no
big deal, ma'am"
"We both owe you many thanks for all this," Maggie said, happily receiving the folded-up
paper Spider-man had pulled out of his hidden suit pockets. A letter, no doubt from Mr. Lang.

Maggie Lang (was that even her last name anymore?) then turned to face the redhead, and
with a kindness Brook was sure someone of her background did not deserve, the woman said,
"Thank you as well, Brooklyn. I know life must be very hectic for you right now, I appreciate
you taking the time to do this for Scott"

"It's not a problem ma'am," Brook replied, even though she wanted to add that this wasn't for
Scott's sake, but rather a trap from the hero beside her. A trap she still wasn't sure why he'd
bothered to ensnare her into.

Once the woman's keys were in hand, locations of snacks stated, and a spare set of keys
handed to Spider-man, the woman finally seemed to breathe easier, but still spared a few
glances towards her watch. A decently priced one, which meant the family likely had enough
money to hire an actual caretaker. So why bother with Spider-man then?

The woman was likely running late for something, even so, she shouted a sweet farewell to
her daughter somewhere inside the house and gave both hero and assassin another grateful
hug.

"You must send thanks to your dad as well, Brooklyn," Maggie added as she headed for the
van in the parking area beside the house’s pristine garden full of blooming roses of all colors
and sizes despite the time of year.

As for the thanks Brooklyn was supposed to deliver, why would she have to do that? What
part did Stark have in this?

"What would you need to thank him for?" Brooklyn asked, keeping the bite out of her voice.

The woman encompassed the house before them with her arms, "You don’t know? He helped
Scott get probation after the Accords so he wouldn't end up in jail. When we moved here in
the hopes of being able to see Scott, your dad helped us get settled in this house and arranged
the visits for Cassie. He's also keeping secret about these visits from Spider-man"

Her otets had done all that? The man some might describe as selfish and spoiled, who
Brooklyn had perceived to be self-absorbed and close-minded. He’d helped someone, a man
like Scott, who the news specified had fought against the law. Technically against the side
Stark had favored.

Unable to wrap that into her mind, Brooklyn just nodded, promising to convey the message.

"I heard you're living in Queens as well. If you ever need anything don't hesitate to come by!
We'd love to have you over, Cassie already seems to have taken a liking to you" the woman
shouted, at last getting in her car and driving away, not even waiting for Brook's response.

Why was it that everyone thought she needed taking care of? Aunt May was convinced
Brooklyn would starve without food in the morning, Peter felt the need to walk her to and
from school...
But she wasn't going to think about Peter too much. Not because of Tanya's absurd words, but
because the poor boy made her worry far too often. He could be at home right now, hitting
his foot on the edge of a table, writhing in pain on the floor.

Instead of letting the strange worry take hold of her pathetic heart, she let herself get escorted
into the colorful home by her proclaimed enemy. In seconds, Brooklyn was met with a
beautiful home that seemed well lived in. The place was so full of life, with drawings
everywhere, toys, and large clusters of family photos. Some of them had Scott in them with
Cassie, Maggie, and a tall man in a police officer suit.

They were all smiling, as if in the middle of a joke. They were also covered in paint for some
reason.

Every inch of this place was warm, comfortable, and in a way, she’d rarely beheld...beautiful.

Spider-man, unfazed by the home, went over to the kitchen just as Cassie returned with arms
full of toys, her pink fluffy skirt bouncing with every step.

So that's why she’d gone away...

Cassie stood before Brooklyn while Spider-man leaned against the kitchen door, looking too
amused for her linking. The little girl dropped all the toys on the floor but raised one up
towards Brook.

It was a toy....of Iron Man. Red and gold suit in all its glory, but as a toy.

Scott's daughter beamed, waving the thing around, "This is your dad right?"

Brooklyn felt like someone was repeatedly punching her heart...because yes, that was her
otets, in action figure form. Something she supposed was a completely normal sight, but
reminded her once more that he had a place in the hearts of millions of kids. He was a hero, a
beloved role model, just as Fury had urged her to work into becoming after her colossal
failure in training yesterday.

To her horror, the other dolls on the floor were miniature versions of the other Avengers
Brooklyn had come to meet. Captain America in his flamboyant suit, a muscular green-
skinned Hulk, Barton with a bow and arrow, her sestra, and even a tiny Spider-man was
amongst the clutter as if to piss her off.

Some heroes she was much less familiar with on what she now realized to be a personal
level, like the amazon from the Justice League, or the Kryptonian with a red cape stained in
marker scribbles.

Brooklyn reluctantly took the Iron Man toy offered to her while Cassie went to show off a
new Vision doll her dad had gotten the little girl yesterday.

Her dad the cop, not the convict. Because while Brooklyn had been cursed without a male
parental figure all her life, this child was granted two no matter what side of the law they
were in. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but a creeping sense of annoyance bubbled in her
blood at the thought.

The assassin tried not to let the doll in her hands affect her all that much. Sure, it was Stark,
her father, but she'd seen many kids carrying around Avengers dolls all her life. Of course,
most of those times had been before she'd met the Avengers themselves. She'd been able to
create a barrier between the hero and the blood in her veins, something she couldn't do now
after all that had happened between them.

That doll Cassie was proudly showing off was technically Brooklyn's 'brother' now. A
ridiculous notion in itself, considering it was nothing but an overpowered machine. The fact
that she'd even thought of it as fact was already ridiculous.

"Do you promise to read the letter from my dad later?" Cassie asked the hero behind Brook,
earning an exciting nod as he pulled out an even more wrinkled paper along with a small
wrapped gift from who knew where.

Brooklyn watched as Cassie shrieked in excitement, staring at the newspaper wrapping like it
was the holy grail.

"Your dad gave this to me. It's a congratulatory present for doing so well in the Spelling Bee
this week. He said you got second place in your whole class!"

The girl nodded, reaching for the gift and tearing into it like an animal would a carcass. It
took everything in Brook not to gawk at the feral sight, even more to point out that Spelling
Bee's accomplishments should not be rewarded considering everything had spell check
nowadays. It was that weakness within her that had Brooklyn keeping her mouth shut to
avoid ruining the moment.

From within the poor wrappings, a small clear plastic box contained a full set of jewelry…the
same Tony had brought back from the mall for Scott now that she thought about it.

But...was that made of candy?

As if in a trance, Brooklyn moved closer to them, watching as Cassie begged Spider-man to

open the box with nothing short of a demand. The hero complied with a laugh, and without
the need of that super-strength of his that could halt cars at sixty miles per hour, the small box
was opened and two sets of bracelets, a necklace, and a few rings were propped onto the girl's
appendages.

When Cassie bit off a hoop of the necklace, Brooklyn's odd guess had been proven correct. It
WAS candy, treats that smelled as sweet as the shop Peter had taken her to today. An innocent
and kind scent that was very appealing to the little girl as it had to every little kid she and
Peter had encountered at that store.

Said little girl twirled around with the new gifts from her father, then without hesitation, she
gave a candy ring to the hero of Queens, and surprisingly...one to Brook.
It was a small powdery thing, filling her palm with blue remnants of what was likely nothing
more than cheaply dyed sugar. It was far too small for her fingers of course, but...it wasn't
often Brooklyn was given something. Though she hated to admit it, to the ex-assassin, this
might as well have been a diamond ring like Maggie’s resting on her palm.

While Cassie went over to show off her new jewelry to the cluster of stuffed animals sitting
neatly on the couch, Spider-man approached Brook slowly. Though she could not see his
face, the way he approached seemed at ease, and there was a certain skip in his step as he
motioned to the ring in her hand.

"Have you ever tried one of those?" he asked.

Brooklyn could only imagine what Ivan or even her birth mother would think if they ever
saw such a thing in her hands. They’d likely kill her for accepting a gift that could very well
be poisoned, or the more likely option, they’d make her destroy it.

"No," she answered honestly, voice hoarse, "A friend took me to a candy shop today. It was
my first go at sweets that aren't Skittles or other cheap brand candy. The first time I ate those
was at the compound…when you decided to bother me"

Spider-man took a few noticeable steps back, white metal eyes widening, "A friend? You
really admit to having a friend?"

According to Tanya, such a statement would be false. But...Peter was a friend, they were all
her friends. Brooklyn only hoped such thinking would not backfire on her one day, that the
fragile friendships she’d allowed into her life would be an experiment that yielded fruitful
results.

"Is it so hard to believe I have a friend?" Brook asked, earning an exaggerated shake of the
head from the hero.

Just as he was about to argue something in return, likely an apology of sorts, Cassie suddenly
latched onto her leg, "What do you mean? She's my friend! And now that there's another girl
in this house, we can go play with my dolls! Itsy-bitsy-spider can start getting things ready
for the tea party"

Itsy. Bitsy. Spider.

Brooklyn actually burst out laughing when she heard the nickname, a free and unrestrained
laugh she hadn't let herself have in a long time. At that moment, Brooklyn grew to like Cassie
more so than before, especially when she noticed the hero's surprisingly open
embarrassment.

As silly as it sounded, Brooklyn would gladly take a bullet for the small child now.

"You have tea parties, Itsy-bitsy-spider ?" Brooklyn asked the hero between laughs.

Spider-man didn't look as ashamed as he should when he replied, "Only the best in all of
Queens!"
Cassie giggled at that, pouncing to pull Brook further into the house with determination. The
ex-assassin let herself be dragged away, but before they could disappear into another hallway
she yelled out, "Please tell me you're gonna cook with that suit on too?" unable to help the
smirk on her face.

The hero, once again unfazed, replied "Of course! Have fun you two!" then placed a crown
full of feathers atop his head. Brook was almost certain that thing had been engraved with a
flower symbol as she was dragged along. That kept her laughter going until they made it to
an attic-like space. It was full of crates of toys and decorated with a large number of self-
made decorations. There were also quite a few drawings of Ant-Man, and a handful of
Avengers stick figure drawings as well.

On the left side of the small space was a circular window overlooking the front yard, but
beneath it was a small house. Bright pink, with little green soldier toys standing diligently
around it. Cassie approached the foreign objects and pulled out a few plastic humans from
within. Surprisingly, some of them were missing a few shoes, others had such absurd clothing
combinations that made Brook relent a small grin.

"Will you please play dollies with me? My dad used to do it but he's away, and Spidey
doesn't do it right"

Finally…Spider-man truly did suck at something then. Shed’ pocket that information for
future use later.

Brooklyn hesitated as she beheld the scattered toys that had been missing in her own youth,
"I've never done it before, played with dolls I mean"

Cassie dropped the small clothes she'd been sorting through, "Really? Your mommy and
daddy never bought you dolls?"

"No," Brook admitted far too quickly, then was slightly mortified when she beheld the girl
putting down her dolls sadly.

Disappointment. That's what that was.

And it shouldn't have bothered Brook in the slightest...but somehow, making Cassie this
visibly upset made the teen sit down before her. Brooklyn tried to think of it as doing
something Spider-man couldn't do, and maybe as a way to see what a childhood spent
playing with silly toys would've felt like.

She tried to convince herself that this was not giving in to the whims of a small child, that
Cassie had no power over her.

It was with a hidden groan of annoyance at herself that Brooklyn awkwardly admitted, "But I
can learn. Teach me how?"

As quickly as the sadness had overtaken her, it disappeared. It had Brook wondering if the
child had done it on purpose, if the ex-assassin had just been manipulated with the very skills
Ivan himself had taught her.
Cassie, as if her past sadness had been nothing but a passing breeze, sat closer to the small
playhouse and said, "Ok! Choose one of the dollies!"

Brook glanced hesitantly through the assortment, and her gaze immediately caught onto a
ballerina-themed doll. It was nothing extraordinary, felt foreign in her hands, but still,
Brooklyn made an effort to at least seem pleased with her choice.

"I'll be that one, her ballet shoes look like mine," Brook said, fixing the pink plastic shoes
properly on the doll's feet with the gentlest hands. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but her
fear of somehow hurting or breaking the doll loomed over her if only because that's what her
hands were used to doing. Destroying.

"You can do ballet?" Cassie asked with enthusiasm, halting her own search for a doll.

"I started to dance when I was younger than you," Brooklyn said as Cassie took a doll with
purple highlights and glitter-filled wings.

Cassie, satisfied with that choice, commanded, "Ok, then your dollie can be mine's teacher.
But her hair isn't right, here..."

The little girl grabbed another doll with red hair from the pile, one belonging to a mermaid.
With none of the caution Brook had been exercising when holding the toys, Cassie ripped the
hair off like a mere wig and proceeded to do the same to Brook's doll. The movement was so
harsh and violent, that Brooklyn almost flinched. But the girl happily switched the hair from
the two dolls like it was nothing.

Now Brook was left with a red-haired doll with pink eyes and an equally colored tutu.

Her doll…arguably the only toy of its kind she’d ever held.

Brooklyn found out in the next twenty minutes that playing with dolls was not a difficult task.
It was like having a secret identity through a doll. Thankfully, Cassie guided the story from
the beginning, and soon both dolls were holding a recital in front of two dozen stuffed toys
that looked like they were from a horror movie.

How could such a delicate little girl own those things? One of those dolls actually had bloody
fangs.

Unaware of the intrusion, Spider-man had been staring at them silently from the door for who
knew how long. It wasn't until Brook turned to walk the stiff doll back to the 'backstage' area
of the imaginary building that she caught sight of him.

Brooklyn would've likely seethed with anger if it wasn't for the equally embarrassing sight
before her. The hero she’d come to hate was still wearing that dreadful crown atop the head
of his suit. In his hands was a tray with a plastic tea set and a few cookie plates.

He looked as ridiculous as Brooklyn felt.

As soon as Cassie caught sight of him, she ushered the hero to set everything down by the
miniature table behind Brook. It was a small green plastic table with four delicate chairs that
looked to be made for infants, certainly not teens or heroes.

When Spider-man set everything down and took a seat at the table like it was nothing,
Brooklyn was shocked the poor chair hadn't collapsed. More so, she was holding back
another smile at seeing the mighty hero of Queens with his legs raised up to his chest as he
let Cassie add a feathered scarf to his look.

"My goodness, you look absolutely dashing, Mr. Spidy" Brook dared to tease from her place
sprawled on the colorful carpet depicting letters and numbers, leaning back on her arms as
she beheld the fool before her. A sight that would no doubt stay in her mind forever.

The hero busied himself with placing cups and plates in place, but to her surprise, answered,
"I think Brooklyn is a little underdressed. Don't you think, Cassie?"

Well…she wasn’t aware he knew how to do that. Maybe Spider-man had more guts than
she’d given him credit for.

Brook barely had time to sneak a short glare his way because, in seconds, the little girl was
upon Brook, hoisting her up with a feeble push. After looking in a chest full of costume
accessories, Cassie came back with a glittery plastic crown, a few equally fake-plastic
necklaces, and placed them on the ex-assassin's body.

She’d tried subtly removing one of the necklaces, but Cassie had immediately been upon her
as if somehow sensing it. The necklace had gone back on, and the rest of the accessories
remained that way too.

Once Brooklyn struggled her way into sitting on the small toddler chair beside Spider-man,
she found being this close to him would have to be bearable for once for the little girl’s sake.
His ridiculous outfit definitely helped keep her annoyance in check, even if hers was equally
as embarrassing.

Cassie sat across from them after putting on a purple dress over her clothes and adding a few
accessories to her look.

"Where is the ring I gave you?" Cassie asked Brook, pointing to her candy-less fingers.
Brooklyn sheepishly pointed at her small bag on the other side of the room where the blue
ring was resting wrapped in a stray napkin.

"It was a little small for my fingers," the ex-assassin explained sheepishly.

To her annoyance, Spider-man quickly reached into his suit and pulled out the ring that had
been gifted to him, which was slightly bigger than the one Book had been given. Reluctantly,
he reached out for her hand and tested out her smaller fingers to see which it might fit in.

Even with her hands in his, Brooklyn was too stunned to yank them away. She could barely
believe her eyes, the audacity of it all.

The edible jewelry was too loose on her pinky, but it fit snugly on the next appendage. To
Brook's horror, that was her appropriately named ring finger.
"You should take me out to eat before proposing to me like that," Brooklyn joked, raising her
brow teasingly as she saw Spider-man almost falling off his small chair at the words she'd
only said to mask her own surprise.

"Don't say it like that," he whined, only stopping when Cassie began clapping her hands.

"Perfect! Princess Spidy needed a companion! Princess Brooky can be your date today"
Cassie said, almost making Brook choke on her invisible tea.

"Brooky?" she asked, watching with a slight frown as deep giggles came from the hero beside
her. She considered elbowing him and hurling the candy ring at his masked head, but
refrained from doing so in the presence of the child seated before them.

Cassie didn't falter as she stated proudly, "You're my friend now, and all my friends have
nicknames. Even my weird dog friend has a name, he's an ant"

Weird dog? How could a dog be weird, much less an ant? If it belonged to Scott Lang...yeah
she could believe it. Or it could be slang she was undoubtedly unfamiliar with. As if to prove
a point, Cassie called out to her 'friend'. One which Brook had expected to be as invisible as
the tea that had been 'poured' into her cup.

Of course, the universe loved to prove her wrong. Life couldn't possibly get any weirder than
when a giant Bullet Ant the size of a large dog quickly scrambled through the door.

Now, Brook had seen some weird things in her life, hell, weird didn't even begin to cover the
definition of her existence. But when she saw a giant ant rushing towards them...the ex-
assassin bolted out of the table, hand at the ready on her Stark watch to defend Cassie if need
be.

How was that even possible...

"Der'mo" Brook cursed out in panic, only daring to say the word shit in her mother tongue
before a child, even as she stared at the impossible dead in the eye.

Watching as the giant thing nuzzled into Cassie, then request a pet on the head from Spider-
man who did so without complaint...Brook was left in complete shock, especially when the
stupid hero even set down a plate of fruits on the floor for it to feast on. As if its massive
pincers couldn't gobble human legs.

Brooklyn didn't dare lament the loss of eating those ripe strawberries as she saw its pincer-
like mouth devour them whole.

"Her name is Marie Antoinette, not dermau, silly" Cassie corrected.

It took a few seconds, but amidst her panic, Brooklyn still managed to get the joke.

ANToinette.

Hilarious. Something to laugh about when that thing ate someone whole.
It became less amusing when the thing finished its meal and caught the assassin's eye. Just
like its owner, the ant was highly in touch with its cognitive intelligence, seeming to sense
her discomfort and choosing to target her specifically despite its two well-known allies.

Brook tried to look for a place to climb atop, knowing killing the ugly thing would likely
only upset Cassie. Plus, as per Fury’s orders, she wasn’t supposed to be killing anything
anymore.

She wasn't sure if the natural beast deemed her a threat or if it wanted friendship. Either way,
Brooklyn wanted to be as far away from it as possible.

Then, because Spider-man thought he was the comedian of the century, he calmly said, "It
doesn’t bite,"

In her moment of panic at the horrific beast, Brooklyn subconsciously answered, "The
strawberries would say otherwise!"

Thankfully, the thing noticed her panic or had perhaps become intimidated by her, because it
retreated back to its small owner. It wasn't until she got reassurances from both child and hero
that it would not move that Brook returned back to her tiny seat nervously.

Though she wanted to look away from its deep black eyes, Brooklyn kept her composure as
she scanned the creature to make sure Cassie was safe. She'd already lost her witts twice in
front of the hero beside her, and Brook was determined not to give him any more satisfaction.

So she spent the next hour pretending the giant ant wasn't in the room at all, like an action
figure of her father didn’t lay on the floor nearby, or that she was seated next to the hero
she’d sworn to kill.

In that next hour, Brook was taught how to drink her invisible tea properly, they discussed the
importance of silly costumes, listened as Spider-man read the hilarious letter from Scott to his
daughter (addressed to Peanut, a fond nickname), and took part in important debates about
the latest stuffed animal gossip of the week.

To Brook's surprise...it wasn't the worst time of her life.

In fact, she found that letting go of the past and her old self was relaxing. For that hour, she
couldn't find it in herself to hate Spider-man, and she grew to tolerate the existence of the
elephant (or should she say ant?) in the room.

It was like that day in the coffee shop with her classmates. A pleasant time when she wasn't
an assassin or a Stark...she was just the most normal version of herself. The one who realized
she liked classic Oreos, Vienna finger cookies, and even tolerated the chewy Chips Ahoy
Cassie seemed to favor.

A few times during the tea party, Brook had even joined Cassie in turning around to face the
wall as Spider-man lifted his mask to eat a few of the treats. Not long ago, Brook would have
just let him starve with maniacal glee. She found the urge to make him suffer had no place
here, not when Scott's daughter cared for him.
The nickname Brooky didn't seem so bad after a while either, and Itsy Bitsy Spider managed
to crack a few good jokes that actually made Brooklyn laugh softly. No one would believe
him if he said so anyways.

Next thing she knew, the stuffed animals needed to be put to bed, and after the useless task
was done, the three of them had fallen asleep too on full bellies and tired laughs. It wasn't
until Maggie nudged them awake that Brook realized she'd fallen asleep on the floor, leaning
on Spider-man's shoulder and with Cassie cuddled between them.

Brook's sleepy eyes managed a pleasant greeting as her eyes scanned the space for the horrid
ant before anything else, once she realized where she was. To her relief, the thing was
nowhere to be seen.

But the ex-assassin did however bolt out of Spider-man's personal space as if he'd burn her as
soon as she noticed that particular closeness. He too seemed slightly alarmed by their
sleeping arrangement once he woke up, apologizing profoundly. The only one that didn't
seem to care was Maggie, who merely smiled at the sight of the two of them scrambling as
far away as possible from one another.

"You had a good time?" Maggie asked her sleepy daughter, to which the girl nodded, happily
accepting the embrace her mom carried her into while both Brook and the hero discarded
their party outfits and gathered their things while their heartbeats slowed.

"Your ride got here a few minutes ago," the woman then whispered to them as Cassie began
to fall asleep again with weakened goodbyes.

Spider-man woke up fully then, answering clearly, "Thank you, then we should get going,
Mrs. Paxton. See you next time!"

Taking that as her cue, Brook also bid her farewell to the woman.

But once at the door of the attic, Cassie's soft voice whispered, "Promise to come back,
Brooky?"

Could she? Should she?

Looking around the room, remembering the slice of childhood Brook had been granted...she
could only sigh discreetly in resignation. This was another bad idea, a tether to this life she
shouldn't be indulging.

She could’ve lied to spare the kid’s feelings, it wouldn't have been unheard of from a spy, but
Brooklyn’s words were surprisingly honest when they did come out.

"Of course, Peanut" Brook replied softly, following a chipper Spider-man down the steps
towards the likely pissed-off Happy meant to take them back to the Compound. She'd
completely forgotten about the family dinner that awaited her, didn't know if after all the day
had provided, she had the energy for it.
The teen didn't have it in her to complain about their time spent with Cassie, or anything else
for that matter. Instead she just silently followed the hero out to the front door. She had a
promised dinner to get to after all, and apparently keeping her word meant more to Brook
than she’d wagered.

But...

Parked at the front of the house was not the usual black Audi Brook had grown used to and
now related to Happy. Instead, the orange Audi A8 that had taken her to the compound that
first time was in its place. A car that could only belong to one person.

When the passenger window rolled down, Brooklyn wasn't met with Happy's usual scowl…
but her smirking otets.
 A Family Meal

Brooklyn POV-

When the passenger window rolled down, Brooklyn wasn't met with Happy's usual scowl,
but her smirking otets. There he was, hands lazily on the steering wheel, smirk plastered on
his face, and eyes hidden behind those favored blue-tinted shades.

Brook almost dropped her small bag at the sight, for once wishing it was her usual driver that
would be tasked with the three-hour ride. The music and silence she could stand, but after not
seeing Stark for almost three days, she’d been much more hesitant for a reunion after news of
her absolute failure of a first day at SHIELD had likely already spread across the Compound.

Spider-man displayed no surprise in regard to their ride, he merely shouted, "Good afternoon,
Mr. Stark!" and opened the back door with familiarity.

Standing still before the white picket fence, Brook wasn’t entirely sure what to do, half
tempted to make the impossible trek to the Compound by foot if need be. Unlike Happy,
Stark was a…chatty person. He’d no doubt bring up their few-in-between texts and that
single phone call that probably didn’t do her crumbling image any favors.

This wasn’t about the fear of being scolded, Brooklyn had lived with much worse forms of
criticism in her youth to be scared of anything Stark would say. This was about failing to pass
off as his daughter, and the possibility of him despising her for it. This was about a mission
failing, for once not having the skills and abilities to pull off a success.

More than that...this was about yesterday’s choice.

Brook may have decided to try and rectify her mistakes, to stay where her unusual cluster of
friends existed, surrounded by her kind neighbors, and indulging in ridiculous playdates with
Cassie. That didn’t mean that after two mistakes, Tony Stark would see fit that she continue
to be his daughter, even if none of her mistakes had any risk of becoming a public affair.

But when she glanced at the man, she saw no restrained lectures, nothing but a smile that
shifted towards nervousness the longer she stood there on the sidewalk.

The girl considered putting off her worries till dinner time, waiting until Happy picked her
up...but the memory of her time in Cassie's house remained fresh in her mind. A reminder
that she could be more than just the assassin Ivan created.

It made her ponder if her anger and distrust of the man in the car were justified, if the
situation at hand really was all Stark's fault? Pepper had perhaps been correct in assuming
that Brook needed to put a little more effort if this family thing was going to work. So far,
Brooklyn had kept her distance from her father and the Avengers as best she could, and little
benefit had come from such an instinctual action.
But the few times she'd pushed her instincts aside, let people in like her new friends, May,
and Cassie...life hadn't been so bad with them in it. In fact, it was like having a normal one,
like the peaceful and enjoyable existence she'd seen on TV or read about in books.

Amidst her realization, she realized Stark hadn’t started the car, he just stared at her with a
sheepish smile as if he’d actually wait patiently for however long it took for her to decide
whether to walk off or get in the car.

The action had her taking a step towards the car, then retracting it back in place.

"Getting in, Daphne?" Stark asked.

A question, not a demand.

It occurred to Brook that Steve Rogers must’ve kept his promise after all, because there was
no ounce of fear in the man's eyes. Maybe he truly knew nothing of what had occurred
yesterday, and hopefully, it would stay that way, with the detention being the greatest of her
mess-ups as a member of the Starks. She hoped so, mostly because she was going to attempt
something crazy, and fear or resentment from Stark wouldn't help one bit.

Perhaps Brooklyn had been a little bitchy during this whole ordeal, she realized.

Maybe if in situations like these, she took a leap of faith like back at the house looming
behind her, things could be pleasant or at the very least bearable. Cassie Lang wasn't able to
spend time with her father, whom she seemed to love very much, yet Brooklyn had every
opportunity to talk to hers, the action figure brought to life.

It didn't occur to Brook until now how difficult it had been for both her and Stark to get to
this point where they could meet. Even if it had been long ago, as a child in the Red Room,
she'd long yearned to meet her father. Now that she didn't have to kill him....maybe she
should stop treating him like an enemy for a proper start.

So Brooklyn stepped into the car with no fuss, even going as far as to say, "Hello, otets", as
she took a seat against the plush leather on the passenger’s side. Maybe she’d be willing to
extend an olive branch to Strak, but sitting next to Spider-man after all the time they’d
already spent together was pushing it.

Once she was settled, trying not to display any of her nervousness by sitting stiff as a rock,
she dared take a peek at the man beside her whose smile had shifted into something she
couldn't quite place. It wasn’t one of his snarky grins, nor was it the nervous tilt of his mouth
from earlier.

It puzzled her, even more so what came next.

To her surprise, Stark replied confidently, "Kak proshel vash den'?"

How was your day?

Brooklyn felt her hands go limp against her purse, reminding herself that Stark had never
shown signs of knowing even the basics of Russian. So how did he know how to say that?
Did he know Russian all along?

His accent was awful, and his pronunciation was barely passable, but it still halted Brook's
seat belt fastening process.

Trying to keep her surprise at bay, she asked casually, "Ty govorish' po-russki?"

Her otets’ brows scrunched up at her question of whether or not he truly spoke Russian, but
he still replied, "Moya rech' - nosok"

She tried to remain impassive at the words, did her best to push down the traitorous smile that
threatened to make itself known. Still, she couldn't stop herself from commenting, "Your
speech is a sock? I had no idea, but good to know"

Brooklyn was unable to hide her smiling when Stark knocked his head against the steering
wheel in frustration as if he weren’t one of the most intelligent men in the world. She
wondered perhaps if this was the first time in all his life he’d answered a question wrong.

With a look of the long-suffering, Stark removed his shades and along with eyes that were
surprisingly human and vulnerable, he pouted innocently.

"I'm trying ok," Stark replied, "I'm barely on the beginner's stuff, even that is unusually
troublesome"

Brook once again halted her movements, processing what his words meant, the hidden truths
between the words.

"You've been practicing recently, as in barely learning the language. Why?" she dared ask.

From the back seat, Spider-man interrupted, "I thought you only spoke Spanish, Japanese,
and French? You told me so during the Super Bowl game last year"

After sending a not-so-discrete glare at the hero in the back seat, Stark pressed the button to
start the engine, placing the blue shades back on as he avoided the gazes of both trainees.

"How come you two are ganging up on me? I thought you hated him," Stark said, not taking
his eyes off the road, and like the first time Brook had been sidne this car, he was already
driving past the speed limit down the empty residential streets.

Brooklyn reminded herself of her prior thoughts to keep calm. Her otets wasn't being rude or
obnoxious as she'd normally perceive, he was just curious as to why her behavior changed.
Perfectly reasonable considering that sometimes she also wondered how Spider-man wasn't
dead yet.

Maybe…today had earned the spider a break. He’d trusted her with a secret and a child’s life,
and despite his occasional teasing he’d done so for Cassie’s benefit.

"He bought himself a free pass from death today" Brook stated, earning a whispered "Thank
god" from the hero in the back seat. That alone almost cracked another smile from her.
She'd expected Stark to be happy about it, seeing as she and Spider-man would one day have
to spend time together as teammates, but his frown increased at the words.

"What exactly did Underoos do to claim this free pass?" he asked, daring to look at them both
when a stop sign halted Stark's driving.

Was he concerned for Spider-man's well-being? Probably. Or was this some sort of father-like
protectiveness? Brooklyn had seen plenty of that on TV, father’s worried for their daughters
when in proximity to guys, but she was never certain if such a thing existed in real life
considering she’d never really had a father to begin with...

"Well," Brooklyn sighed, "He did take me to meet Cassie Lang, and I quite like her. And
look, he proposed. Killing him would be bad manners after something like that, right?" she
added, showing off the orange candy ring still resting atop her delicate finger, along with
shooting a devil's smirk Spidy's way.

Stark quickly snatched her hand (a move that she let be, not snatching her hand back for
once), examining the candy with a panicked gaze, then turned that look towards the other
Avenger trainee. From the rearview mirror, Brook could see said hero was already squirming
nervously in his leather seat.

"I didn't propose at all, Mr. Stark! I just gave her my ring because she needed it. Her candy
was too small!" shouted Spider-man, shrinking under her otets' gaze, much to her
amusement.

She’d sworn to give him a break against imminent death, but he’d still tricked her into
babysitting.

"You proposed to my daughter!? You don’t even have a credit score yet! " Stark yelled,
almost looking a little green as he added, "Besides, I thought you hated each other… and I'm
not ready to see my child dating, much less marrying!"

Oh, now this was interesting! Brooklyn leaned back on her seat, licking away at the candy
ring that had caused such an amusing commotion.

Then she remembered...

She was doing it again, creating chaos out of nowhere for the sake of it. She was proving
Fury right, and perhaps even damaging any hopes of getting along with her otets in the
process. All because she was too cowardly to have a serious conversation with the man, to
ponder on why he’d bothered to speak Russian before her if he was unfamiliar with the
language.

So, Brooklyn did the one thing she'd thought impossible to accomplish on her part.

The ex-assassin decided to save Spider-man’s life.

"It's true, what he said. Cassie gave us the rings, and he sacrificed his for the little girl's sake,"
Brook said, noticing how Stark's gaze, now on her, softened. His anger towards Spider-man
vanishing just as quickly.

When the car honks from vehicles behind them grew louder, Stark didn't hesitate to step on
the gas. Letting out a long breath, the man turned on some tunes, not surprisingly it was some
classic rock melodies which he gladly hummed along to.

With Happy, when the tunes came on, that usually meant silence would commence. Not with
Tony Stark though. If anything, the music that filled in the silence was some sort of welcome
for conversations on his part.

"So...we haven't talked about your first days in school. How is everything?" Stark asked,
halting her gazing of the passing homes out the tinted windows.

She’d never would’ve thought Stark could be curious about her life, enough to inquire about
it to fill the silence, at least. It confused her, enough to consider not answering in case it was
some sort of trap…but the words had sounded genuine enough that she knew it wasn’t bait to
admit her mistake of getting detention for his amusement.

"My studies aren't difficult. I should perform well this semester," she replied, playing with the
straps of her overalls, keeping her gaze out the window even as the passing greenery and
structures were nothing but a useless blur now.

The man scoffed, turning down the music to clarify, "I meant, have you made any friends?"

His question was odd, not at all what she'd been expecting when she’d hoped her answer
would quell all his curiosity.

"Aren't you concerned with whether or not I'll outperform all my classmates? You must wish
for me to get first ranking, right? If I’m not the best academically, then I’ll fail to live up to
my family name, is that not a troubling thought?" Brooklyn asked, at last looking her father's
way.

She noted his expression seemed troubled, his hold on the steering wheel tightening at the
words.

Did he worry she'd cause more trouble? That she would not succeed?

"Who cares about rankings and grades? What’s important…what I meant to ask is if you
were all alone there. I hope kids aren't giving you trouble, they sure as hell did to me when I
went to school before my parents decided to keep my education at home" Stark replied with a
frown, not towards her, but some distant reminder in his mind.

One startling thought swirled in the girl's mind, a realization that shook her to the core. Stark
couldn't care less if she performed well, all he cared about was if she was doing ok. He cared
about her friendships, her happiness, and found himself worrying kids would be rude. How
odd was that?

Brooklyn's master had cared about nothing more than her progress in the Red Room. Ivan
would be caught dead before asking her to make friends, he called the others nothing more
than obstacles to her success after all. She'd assumed Stark would think along the same lines
as that, wanting her to be the best with no distractions.

But...something about him was concerned for her actual well-being.

Whatever the was, Brook elected to answer honestly, "I made a few friends, actually"

Stark suddenly perked up at that, asking her to tell him all about them. The excitement was
genuine, as was the surprise she could see in his eyes. Dare she say, Stark looked happier by
the thought of her having friends than her stating she’d be the best student at school.

She didn't know why she relented to his request, but Brooklyn took the time to mention
Tanya from Literature, how the girl's odd energetic antics amused Brook to no end. She also
spoke of the quiet and reserved MJ, who would be the leader of the Decathlon she'd have to
take part in next week. The ex-assassin even mentioned the chipper Ned and how he always
managed to expand her knowledge of nerdy movies if given the chance.

Though it shouldn't have been a struggle of any kind, Brooklyn found herself having to calm
her heart when she mentioned her new neighbor. Now aware of Stark's aversion to guys when
it came to Brook, she decided to keep it simple for Peter's sake.

Spider-man could handle a few jabs from Iron Man, but shy, weak, and feeble Peter Parker
would likely faint at the sight of Tony Stark at his doorstep.

"My friend Peter lives two doors down with his aunt. May gives me croissants in the
mornings for when we walk to school. Poor boy has no clue I'm an ex-assassin who doesn't
need an escort," Brook said with a faint and fond smile, "but he became my first friend, not to
mention he's actually a competent lab partner"

"Is he now?" Stark asked, smiling as he enunciated each word for whatever reason.

Brooklyn had no idea what that tone meant, so she continued, "He's also in my Spanish and
Physical Education classes, and he's in the Decathlon team too. He's the one who introduced
me to Harry, another of my friends. Harry is a bit flamboyant and charming, perhaps too
popular for his own good, but we have more in common than I thought, walk with the same
shoes and all"

"Same shoes? Don't tell me he's a size seven and a half too" Stark said with fake enthusiasm,
"Maybe he can join us shoe shopping next time we go to the mall"

Both Stark and Spider-man chuckled at the joke, drowning out the sound of Aerosmith's
instruments. All the teen could do was roll her eyes.

"No, his dad is CEO, the one from Oscorp Industries" she clarified, recalling Peter's words
from yesterday.

Recognition flashed in her otets’ eyes.

"Norman's kid? I had no clue he went to Midtown," Stark admitted, "I only met the kid a few
times but I like him, he's a free spirit that one"
That he was. Never mind that Brooklyn couldn’t envision herself as a CEO of Stark
Industries, but it was much harder to envision someone like Harry taking up the position.
Granted he’d probably spent his youth preparing to take up the mantle, whereas Brook has
spent it killing.

Despite the surprisingly somber thought, Brooklyn suddenly recalled some of Harry's own
words.

"Harry mentioned Stark and Oscorp industries were doing some joint business recently,
making satellites which I assume are meant to identify the alien weapons"

Stark turned to her with a quizzical gaze, "You know about that already?"

Brook shrugged, "It seems Harry is a well-informed boy. He also offered to teach me the
ways of the rich society should I ever need such a thing"

Stark snorted, "Ways of the rich? Do you mean how to deal with the social circus? Take the
advice, you'll need it"

Brooklyn hated to admit it but she likely would need the help, but she'd also need information
from Stark as well. Being out of the loop on things was frustrating. If she wasn't going to
pretend—or rather if she was going to accept—being a Stark, she'd need to be more
convincing in her role.

Or…maybe Stark was joking and Brook would never need to learn such things.

"Will I ever need to be a part of that social circus? I get people are already calling me the
heiress of Stark Industries, but I figured you thought differently on the matter" she dared ask,
playing with the yellow sleeves of her shirt.

Stark was silent for a few seconds, at which time she figured he was remembering what her
life’s mission would’ve been. Taking control of the company he worked so hard to shift
towards noble causes and turning it into something used to create chaos and destruction. Not
that she’d do so now, not when she knew Stark Industries and its influence could be seen in
everyday life from anything like hardware parts on a car to providing opportunities for
geniuses like Peter Parker to leave their mark on the world.

She almost wished Stark could see it, the peculiar shift in mentality that wanted to be better.
Because if one day the company did become part of that future SHIELD and the Avengers
were building, then she’d do her best to make it as far from Ivan’s vision as possible. Not out
of spite for her old master, but because it was the right thing to do.

Brooklyn had expected a quick rejection of such a fantasy, but then he surprised her once
more by replying, "I would give you the choice to bail out if I could, but Pepper mentioned
the company wanted to meet you and the press wants to see you at events. Just like me, it
seems you'll have no choice but to join the social circus, even if I wanted to give you one"

He did?
"So you would make me your heiress then? Just like that, you’d entrust me to one day take
over your life’s work?" she asked nervously, more so at her worry of not being able to fulfill
the task rather than fear of the large responsibility that would no doubt press in on her once
the title was given. Something she didn’t want but understood the importance of.

Stark smiled then, turning the wheel towards a lonely road that would lead them to the
‘countryside’. She almost forgot to breathe when she realized that smile was meant for her.

"I never thought I'd have children with all this Avenging, I was actually convinced Stark
Industries would end up without another Stark to take it over once I met my end," he said,
then moved his gaze towards hers, a kind one she'd seen more of today than in their past
meetings, "It won't be easy, and I get that you probably don't want the Stark heiress. Trust
me, I know from personal experience. But since destiny is apparently written in stone and
you’re on your way to joining the crazed circus of high society...just know that Pepper and I
will help you slowly ease into it"

Was this...did Brooklyn just inherit Stark Industries? It had been a cruel insult when others
casually assumed she’d take an important role as the leader of one of the companies that
made sure the world ran smoothly. But if what Stark said was honest, that meant she was
truly like Harrison Osborn now, a kid on a path paved by family.

It was then, in that lavish car seat in the middle of nowhere, that Brooklyn truly registered the
fact that she was Brooklyn Stark. An actual Stark. It didn't feel like a cover or a way to save
herself from punishment, but as real as the massive trees and cold pavement outside.

"You really don't have an objection to it?" Brook dared ask with a voice she hadn’t intended
to sound as soft as it had, only to receive a casual head shake.

"Why would I have an objection to it? You’re my daughter. The company is who you really
have to worry about, more so the board of directors who will groom you to take over. You’re
a determined individual who works hard and learns from her mistakes, I think they’ll like
you. The downside is that this probably ruins your chances of picking out your own career, so
it looks like you'll be following in your father's footsteps after all" Stark replied.

Brooklyn had a feeling someone in his position as a hero and CEO would not be careless in
making assumptions about a person. How Stark seemed so confident in describing her, she
wasn’t sure. But he omitted her less-than-favorable qualities from that list, almost as if he
didn’t see them.

She wondered what had changed, for a few days ago Stark would’ve found no problem
proclaiming her personality by the contents of her SHIELD file. Pepper wasn’t here so there
was no need to lie, yet what he’d said had been devoid of jokes. He’d sounded more honest
than she’d ever heard him capable of.

Why would I have an objection to it? You’re my daughter, Stark said with such certainty.
Again, remembering their few-in-between interactions these past few days, the teen couldn't
help but wonder what made it so easy for him to claim her as his daughter when that day in
the make-shift medbay he’d stated the last thing he wanted was a daughter.
Something told Brook that her curiosity on the matter may never be quenched, and if his
words on her being heiress were true…that wouldn't be as hard a legacy to follow as being an
Avenger, at least.

She could try and fight the destiny he spoke of, but Brook was trying out the whole 'give this
life a try' thing. It was slightly alarming to realize that having an actual goal in life once again
wasn't completely awful. Having a fate she wouldn't have to face alone was different but for
once a welcome change.

Maybe one day she’d have the true courage to ask Stark how he could put so much trust in
her after knowing her past. For now, she could only incline her head slightly in what she
hoped portrayed the thanks bubbling inside her troubled heart. She didn’t give a damn about
being an heiress, but she was thankful for the olive branch he’d extended her way when most
wouldn’t.

If he’d seen the gesture, Stark thankfully did not ask for elaboration.

"I guess it can't be helped then. Is that why Fury put me in the scientific division of SHIELD
in addition to my training, as an aid for my future outside of being an Avenger?" the girl
asked to try and mask her cluster of emotions, thinking back to all those files of information
she'd scanned every night since they’d been given to her.

"You got put in that too!?" Spider-man piped in from behind, pausing the screen behind her
headrest as he leaned between the front seats. She considered that their distance was far too
close to her liking like back when she woke up from her unexpected nap…but after
everything that had happened so far, the only thing Brook felt wasn’t anger at his presence,
but slight embarrassment that he’d heard their previous conversation.

Thankfully, Spider-man didn’t say anything on the matter either.

Stark shrugged, "I don't run that division, but if Nick put you kids in that, it must be for some
sort of reason. Maybe he just needs more geniuses in there, or perhaps he worries more about
you two than he lets on, deep within that cold heart of his"

Brooklyn turned to face the masked hero behind her, "You're considered a genius, really?"

Said hero settled back to his seat, and like the good citizen she assumed he was under that
mask, refastened his seat belt before his deep robotic voice replied, "Um… well, I don't think
so"

Her otets chuckled, "He is a genius, just too humble to admit it. I know a smart kid when I
see one, which is why I was obviously right in recruiting him for more than just his
superpowers. I'm half convinced it's a hidden mutation of mine"

The pride in Stark's words....why was it so annoying all of the sudden? So what if Spider-man
was a perfect hero, a young genius, and apparently…a ward of sorts to her otets.

Brooklyn couldn't care less.

But...speaking of geniuses under his eye.

"My friend Harry actually mentioned something interesting," Brooklyn mused, crossing her
legs under her now that she was more confident Stark wouldn’t lead them to a car crash, "He
mentioned my friend Peter Parker was doing an internship at Stark Industries"

Brook heard Spider-man coughing from the back seats, and despite their temporary truce, she
didn’t care about him enough to ensure he didn’t die choking on his own spit. Besides, it
sounded like he had it under control anyways.

The tapping against the steering wheel paused, and Stark's eyes went wide, "Oh! You mean
THAT Peter kid is your friend? Yes, I did see him once or twice during the internship periods.
A brilliant kid…stubborn and a little childish, but a decent kid"

That described Peter perfectly.

Of course he'd have an internship at Stark Industries where he’d at least stood out to the CEO
once, that boy was labeled as the smartest in all the school by nearly everyone Brook deigned
to talk to. He'd probably be the one to beat if the ex-assassin continued with her plan of
getting the highest grades in school, especially now with her imminent future as heiress on
the line. Not that she’d ever let Peter know, she had a feeling that if she brought up the
concept of competition the fragile teen would panic into a frenzy.

"In any case, it's good that you made some friends. We were worried being a Stark would
make school difficult, alienate you like the main character in a coming of age movie" her
otets said, fixing the sides of his black blazer almost nervously.

The ex-assassin had been worried school would be difficult for more than just those reasons
alone, but to her surprise, her perfectly mundane friends had become a sort of protective
bubble from the rest of the school. A small mercy she’d have to find a way to repay to avoid
any debts.

Brook questioned, “Who is we exactly? Weren't you more worried I’d make other kids' lives
difficult?”

“Me, Pepper, the Avengers…obviously” Stark replied, “and Natasha told us you wouldn't
hurt anyone, and she seems to know you best. Besides…last time I didn’t trust Nat I got a
bullet to the shoulder during a mission”

She wondered if that trust had wavered when he’d gotten a call from her principal on her first
day of school.

"The last name still holds some sway, I'd say. But most kids are either too afraid to speak to
me, for all the wrong reasons I might add, or they are far too interested to become my
acquaintances, but Tanya drives them away well enough" Brook admitted, "I think I scared
enough kids away that first day during my…altercation"

"Um, what happened that first day?" Spider-man asked to which Stark rolled his eyes, and
just because she was at peace with him for today, she explained the earned detention for
saving poor Peter Parker's face.

The masked hero had actually thanked her for standing up for a stranger, and Brooklyn
almost had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. Something told her that Captain America and the
hero in the back seat had to be cut from the same cloth with the righteousness they
carried. Spider-man couldn't possibly hope to save each and every person in Queens,
especially from school bullies all the time. Still, it wasn't an act she wanted to be thanked for,
even if Peter was her friend.

Thankfully the rest of the ride was devoid of uncomfortable praise for her actions, and
instead deviated to discussing her training for tomorrow, at which point Brook confirmed
Stark had no clue what had occurred yesterday since he never brought it up.

He spent most of the ride discussing the changes to her training schedule if she was to take a
more active role in Stark Industries matters, deal with the Decathlon, and still visit the
Compound during the weekends.

Surprisingly, Stark mentioned he'd learned a thing or two about schedule-making from
Pepper, a job she'd once done so well for him. By the time the gates of the compound
appeared, the three had settled a decent arrangement to be pressed to Fury.

Mondays and Thursdays were Decathlon days (At least based on what Parker and Ned said
about after-school practice days).

Tuesdays and Wednesdays would be SHIELD days, same hours as before. Fury would likely
push for more intense hours than what was previously agreed on, and Brook would relent to
that without much of a fuss. Training was important, and the sooner she finished all this agent
training nonsense, the faster she'd be cleared for missions of her own.

Fridays would be 'Stark' days. Happy would pick her up at 6 and she'd spent time with
Pepper and her otets learning the ropes of the Industries they ran just in case the world
cornered her about the preparedness to assume her position as CEO.

Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays would also be spent at the compound training with the
Avengers, or as Stark put it, 'doing some team bonding time'. Likely all that movie and game
night crap Spider-man had boasted about.

The thought of this schedule wasn't as revolting as before. When Stark offered the chance to
go have dinner with the team on whatever day of the week she wished, Brooklyn seriously
considered this offer of having a chopper pick her up.

Not because she liked their company of course, but rather as a way to get used to them for her
own sake. Naturally, if she was extending an olive branch to Stark, she’d have to do the same
to his closest allies. Plus as a future Avenger, she’d need their expertise and experience. A
task that would need to take precedence if she was to soon treat the Avengers with the same
‘courtesy’ as she was using with Stark right now.
The way to the Avenger's floors was the same as before, but this time, FRIDAY greeted her
by name, something Brook barely flinched at this time.

When they made it inside, everyone was in the large dining room she'd first attended as
Brooklyn Jones once upon a time. It had only been a few days prior, but Brook could feel the
shift and difference in who she’d been then, and who talked into the space now.

The ex-assassin promised herself to hold onto the same ‘open behavior’ she’d exercised in
the car, to try and at least be civil to the heroes of the world. Though there was no way she
was second-guessing her casual outfit for a few seconds before going into the room, Brook
could admit to being nervous enough to hope this interaction would go as well as her time at
Cassie’s with Spider-man and her talk with Stark.

Those two were the people she had been the most reluctant towards in this whole world, so
naturally, one could assume the task before her wouldn't be as hard.

As soon as Brook sauntered inside the hectic room and everyone's eyes were on her, the teen
sucked in her pride and greeted them all with a wave and her best attempt at a genuine smile.
It seemed to put people at ease, and herself as well in some strange way.

Not to say her guard was down completely, Brooklyn doubted such a thing was possible, but
it was pleasant to think that she could just....be.

Her brief worries about dressing inappropriately were quelled when she noticed everyone at
the table was in sports attire, apparently just having finished a group training exercise. From
the snippets of conversation she’d heard prior to her entrance, no one seemed too happy
about a certain bet made during training, but it was interesting to see the team still made
efforts to stay in shape even when they were basically kids on time out, grounded from even
going outside the compound.

The first to greet Brook in person was her sestra, who made her way over to where she
remained frozen by the door unsure how to proceed. Unlike the other Avengers, Natasha
understood the concept of personal space, and gave Brook a curt nod as a greeting.

"Steve was worried you wouldn't come," Natasha whispered, "He's been troubling his mind
about it all day, it helped me win a sparring match"

Brooklyn wondered why her presence would be of concern, Steven Rogers was an odd man
Brook had yet to decipher completely after all. On the outside, he looked like a classically
beautiful man with a body fit for a man of the wilderness. It seemed that on the inside, the
man was as the public assumed. Incredibly caring, gentle, and very golden-retriever-like.

A puzzle indeed.

Said man paused his conversation with Sam, rushing over to her and Natasha with a bright
smile that lit up his ocean eyes. As if to prove Nat correct, he blinked a few times, as if to
ensure Brooklyn really was here despite her promising him she would be.

"You're here!" Steve said, "Tony said he'd go pick up you kids and I was worried you..."
"That I'd bail?" Brook finished, noticing even Natasha seemed surprised the three were still
here in one piece, so the teen added, "Don't worry, I won't ruin your meal today. I've locked
away my bitchy behavior for the rest of the day, for experimental purposes"

Natasha sent a salute to the passing Stark and Spider-man, then whispered loud enough for
everyone to hear, "Bitchy? Steve doesn't like that kind of talk, Rosa"

To her shock, both her sestra and Mr. America began to slowly chase each other around the
table with empty threats while the room laughed at Roger's antics.

Since that first day Brooklyn met the famed Natasha Romanoff, there was a part of her mind
that saw something of herself in the woman. Maybe it was the hair, or the imprint of the Red
Room on her features. Seeing someone of her own background, who was taught all Brook
had learned, and now managed to let it all go in front of these people...it made Brook wonder
what it might be like to have that as well one day.

Right now, her sestra seemed genuinely happy. Not a single part of her form was on guard,
and that calculating look mirrored on every assassin's face was gone completely as she settled
down at the table with a triumphant smirk Roger's way.

Brook would be seeing a lot more of these people in the future, perhaps she should genuinely
try to find out more about them. Try to work out the puzzle that was the Avengers, a cluster
of many different individuals united by one goal. People even her sestra seemed to trust
completely.

Who knew, maybe in a few years Brooklyn would dare to be at ease not only with the
Avengers, but with her own friends back in school. It would be a mockery to everything she'd
been taught in the Red Room, but it seemed like a nice way to live.

On her way to a vacant chair, Brook received a few smiles her way, even some astounded
looks at her calm demeanor. The crippled War Machine was even sending a quizzical look
Stark's way, as if asking 'what did you do to her?'.

Thankfully, her otets said nothing on the matter as he settled down, only shooting what must
be an approving smirk Brook's way.

That gesture likely meant to ease her mind, had startled Brooklyn enough that she stopped
just before the table, where Sam and Clint took the chance to pat her shoulders on their way
to set various plates of food down.

"School treating you alright, kid?" Sam asked, setting down a plate of mashed potatoes with
care as she took a seat.

The teen merely nodded, thinking back to her new friends.

Beside Sam, Clint sent her a thumbs up, "I hope all that studying worked up an appetite,
Steve and Wanda made enough food to feed the whole compound"
Wanda approached them with Vision by her side, arms interlocked with each other. Clint
begged for mercy, complaining that seeing someone he viewed like a niece being all mushy
in front of him was too much.

The Scarlet Witch did not shy away from the robot as had been requested, but she did smirk
at the complaint while levitating eight plates onto the table with wisps of crimson smoke.
Thankfully, Brooklyn wasn’t even close to the strange magic.

"Just wait until your actual daughter brings home a guy, this is good practice for you, Clint,"
Wanda said in that slight Sokovian accent Brooklyn was finally familiar with.

The group probably didn't realize the small bit of unusual hope ignited in Brook by the mere
words meant to be nothing more than a teasing joke. The fact that Clint, a fellow assassin,
had children of his own was something she’d never imagined could be a reality.

Was it possible to have a family and happiness with their type of background then? To live a
happy life…

Brooklyn didn’t let the thought linger for too long, instead, she turned back toward Clint who
was already looking up at the ceiling in pain. Not from any physical injury, but by the truth in
Wanda’s words.

Clint frowned as he replied, "When that day comes, some poor guy will find himself in a very
uncomfortable position"

"What, you're gonna shoot the poor boy?" Wanda challenged, earning a determined nod from
the Avenger and a secretive nod from Natasha. Meaning her sestra was protective of the kids
as well, another interesting development. An additional oddity amongst assassins.

Shaking her head, Wanda turned her attention back to Brook, sending a wisp of her scarlet
magic toward her side of the table. In seconds, said magic whirled before the assassin,
placing a wine glass filled with some sort of soda on her plate.

Brook had to remind herself that if Wanda wanted her dead, she would not enact her plan nor
use her magic against her in a room full of Avengers. She didn't flinch away, nor did she
comment on the strangeness of the action…she just, tried to convince herself it didn’t
happen.

"I honestly feel bad for you, Brooklyn. When you start dating, this whole room will fight to
defend your honor. They can't do much about this," Wanda said, motioning a hand between
her and an obedient Vision standing by her side, "because they know I can overpower them"

After catching a glimpse of Stark's concern from earlier in the car with the ring incident, the
image was suddenly easier to believe. That being said, Brooklyn knew for a fact it was an
unnecessary worry. She’d never stoop so low as to succumb to such emotions, no matter what
Tanya had said, no matter that Natasha had at some point given in to the kind of intense
emotions and trust incapable of their kind.
Remembering to at least try to be civil, Brook let out a small smile, accepting the drink
without bothering to contemplate if its contents had poison.

"You're a couple then? You and...my brother, the mutated apple computer" Brooklyn said,
taking a casual sip of the sweet orange soda.

Wanda didn't take offense to the question, she just beamed up at Vision like he was her whole
world. The pair seemed to get lost in each other's eyes, ones that were fading red around the
irises from power use, and others of resplendent gold that despite being machine-like, clearly
shone with human adoration towards Wanda.

Vision was the one to speak up, fidgeting with his cashmere sweater, "We are trying to see if
this works. So far, I can say we've been 98.99 percent successful, Miss Stark"

Wow.

From his place now seated at the table, Clint shouted back, "It better be a hundred percent or
I'll turn you into scraps for Tony's experiments"

Brooklyn genuinely smiled at that, especially when Vision, oblivious to the threat clarified, "I
don't believe that is possible. Most of my parts are constructed to work as body functions,
they would be useless in common machinery. Plus, with my abilities, your chances of
winning a confrontation are less than 32.65 percent"

The whole table joined in Brooklyn's amusement as they laughed at a deflated Clint, who
sagged against his chair, mumbling something about the percentage being more than enough
to win.

It wasn't until Pepper emerged from an adjacent door into the room that Brooklyn's focus was
pulled away from the peculiar couple or the choruses of laughter at the table.

Surprisingly, the woman wasted no time walking over to embrace Brook, a similar feel to that
of May's and Maggie Lang's hugs. Genuine and motherly acts of affection. This time,
however, the ex-assassin tried her hardest to relax her posture a little bit, not quite ready to
return the embrace just yet.

It was a start.

"I'm so glad you came! Steve made special pancakes for you," Pepper said as a way of
greeting, helping Brook stand to guide the teen into a seat situated between her and Stark in
the middle of the table.

Spider-man was already on Tony's other side, both busy discussing something about a
project. When Brook took a seat and placed her glass down, the man on the other side of the
table suddenly turned away from his PlayStation, ignoring the sounds of distress of the
character in his game.

"Hi Brooklyn!" he said, "Tony mentioned you'd go see my daughter with P…Spider-man.
How is she doing?"
His eyes lit up in expectation, eager to learn about his daughter despite the panicked glares
some at the table send him. Likely due to his slip of the tongue they all likely hoped she’d
missed…the way he almost revealed Spider-man’s identity. To be honest, Brooklyn didn’t
care much about that, was too focused on the raw emotion on Scott’s face, what Brook could
only guess as love for his daughter. Just like little Cassie had displayed at the sight of her
father’s letter.

"She's an exceptional child. You must be proud," Brooklyn found herself admitting, earning
the attention of everyone at the table.

Scott beamed, "Of course! I'm glad you liked spending time with Peanut, I was worried you'd
keep your distance from her since you do that with me…and well, all of us"

Brooklyn tried not to flinch at the innocent words. It was all true, the assassin had never
shown proper manners to this man, to anyone at the table really. Focused perhaps too much
on their flaws so she could keep her distance.

Though it took a monumental effort on her part that likely went unnoticed, Brooklyn
mumbled, "I apologize for that. But I promise I was not like that with your daughter, I had a
good time learning about common childhood activities"

When Pepper asked for details, no doubt for Scott's sake since he seemed to appreciate
hearing anything about his daughter, Brook relented and spoke of her day at Cassie's home.
Though she was too embarrassed to say most things about the dolls and the tea party, the teen
made an effort to express the kindness of the little girl she’d met while keeping her own
dignity in place.

She did however share details of the action figures Cassie kept, which sent the table into a
frenzy of laughter. Apparently, they also found their appearances as common toys quite
amusing. Then, Brooklyn did herself a favor and barely went into detail when it came to the
doll playing or the tea party, but she was quite curious to know more about the giant ant.

Scott laughed nervously, "They took my suit when we got arrested and I completely forgot
Antoinette was not shrunk back. Oh, well! At least she's keeping Cassie company"

Ok, so she hadn't imagined it. Great.

Stark cleared his throat, and though his eyes were playful, a contrast to his pout, he pointed at
Brook's left hand which rested on her lap, and said, "She also got a ring, see that?"

Was that teasing within his tone?

Brooklyn looked at the finger where the remnants of her candy ring remained. The 'diamond'
shape of the ring had been eaten by her during the car ride, all that remained was a plastic
circle around her finger, forgotten but still in good shape.

“I’d hardly call it that” she heard Sam mumble, stifling his own laughter with a napkin.
"Oh, Cassie got my gift! I'm glad!" Scott shouted, fists raised up towards the ceiling as if it
were some monumental success. A mission successful.

Stark frowned, "Well I'm not, my trusted Underoos proposed to my daughter with it. Get him,
Pepper!"

The members present at the table slammed their hands against the sturdy wood, spilled their
drinks, and witnessed the young hero beside Stark practically collapse against his chair with
embarrassed mumbles and pleas for understanding.

Like before, Brooklyn went through the effort to explain the situation to spare the spider's
pride…but this time more so to spare her own embarrassment at the assumption.

It did very little to quell the playful aura at the table though. Brooklyn could’ve sworn she
even heard Sam and Clint whisper something about a path toward romance. Words she gladly
ignored for the sake of keeping her anger at bay.

Pepper reached out and examined the thing with a soft smile, a touch Brooklyn tried to ignore
while Rogers came back into the room with a large plate of about five nearly arranged
pancakes glazed in powdered sugar, with bright berries on the side.

"As promised!" the blond said, eagerly setting down the perfectly round pancakes before her.

The sight of them was...exciting. She could almost taste them again, even after days since
she'd had them. Though she completely forgot the Captain had tried to entice her into coming
with the promise of such food, Brooklyn wouldn't let it show. Because that would mean she
came here of her own free will to see them.

Thankfully, Stark glanced up at Rogers expectantly and announced, "What about the rest of
us? I want breakfast food for dinner too"

The Captain shook his head, making everyone at the table 'upset’ in a playful way Brook was
starting to notice they treated Rogers with.

"These are specially made for her," Rogers said, sending Brook a kind smile before taking his
seat at the other side of the table, right next to Natasha.

Even after his face had bothered her through P.E and detention these past few days, Brook
was suddenly not as upset anymore. Maybe it was because of his kindness, or perhaps she
just liked the pancakes more than him…but if Steve Rogers ever asked her for a favor, she’d
probably allow it.

As time dragged on, Brooklyn felt odd her presence was a welcome change. Being wanted at
the table was new, neither one of her previous homes had cared all that much. But these
people did, to some extent, worry and care about her.

So at the end of the meal, pushing her pride and teachings aside, the teen said, "Thank you
for the food" then turned to the rest of the table, "and for having me here"
Brook WAS grateful, even after all this mess created by Stark and Spider-man...maybe it
hadn't all been bad after all. At least not yet.

To her surprise, every single person at the table actually beamed at her words, and dessert
began. Her first pleasant full meal with the team. The first…because if invited, Brooklyn
might not object in the slightest.

"Why do you guys listen to old forties songs in the mornings?" Brook asked after finishing a
bite of her second pancake.

Beside her, Stark smirked towards the Captain, "Because he cooks breakfast, so Capsicle
thinks he's entitled to choosing the music"

Sam, who had just finished a bread roll from the basket floating around the table (courtesy of
Wanda), added, "We used to play Star Spangled Man, but Steve threatened to throw us out
the window if we made fun of his past musical number"

Brooklyn smirked and said, "I doubt he'd have the heart to do that"

Along the table, Steve huffed, "That may be true, but Natasha would do it for me"

Everyone at the table turned to her sestra who was smirking knowingly. Yeah, she'd do it.

Spider-man's deep voice suddenly said, "I don't think it's a bad song at all Mr. Rogers! They
play it every fourth of July at Meadows Corona Park. I think it's very nice and patriotic! The
true anthem of this nation!"

Rogers smiled sheepishly around his cup of wine, and after a long gulp he replied, "Thanks,
Queens"

Spider-man saluted back, and that's all it took to send half the table laughing. In no time, an
easy-flowing conversation began around the large table as they finished their ice cream, and
the rest of the sugary treats that the others had brought in earlier.

In that time, Brooklyn found out the fourth of July WAS the Captain's birthday, because of
course it was. Some suggested that the song be played in the morning of his birthday from
now on since the Captain had agreed it was the anthem of this nation, despite such an event
being months away into next year.

The only one that seemed against doing so was Rogers, especially when her otets claimed to
have one of the original performances on tape, courtesy of his father’s old belongings from
the wartime. That's when it occurred to Brooklyn that her grandfather would have known Mr.
Rogers all those decades ago. Because she had a grandfather (even if he was dead), and he’d
been a founder of SHIELD, meanwhile her maternal grandparents were likely just a bunch of
assassins.

Grandfather Stark was probably the only good ancestor of that time Brook had, maybe even
her grandmother had been decent?
Normally, Brooklyn kept from initiating conversations with others, sometimes adding a
comment here and there that was no longer a sentence or so. But perhaps it was time she
made use of this 'family time' to learn a few more things about herself.

Brook no longer had the Red Room withholding such basic knowledge of her past after all.

"You knew Stark's father then?" she asked Rogers, who went wide-eyed for a few seconds.
As if unsure if he should reply or not, he bought himself time by scooping a bit of ice cream
into his mouth. Or course, she’d noticed his hesitance.

"Yes. He was one of the scientists that made me....well this," he replied, motioning to his
large frame, no doubt referring to the famous serum rumored to have turned a normal
scrawny male into a hero.

Brooklyn actually caught Stark stiffening by her side, eyes sharp and focused on the Captain
with an animosity that hadn’t been there seconds ago when they’d been teasing him.

Maybe bringing up this man wasn't such a good idea. But then her otets spoke up before
Brooklyn could scramble for another topic.

Turning towards Brook, Stark explained, "His name was Howard, your grandfather. He
inherited Stark Industries from your great grandfather, Issac Stark Sr. Thankfully, you
inherited your physical attributes from me, the pair of them were not nearly as good-looking
as we are", causing Rogers to choke on his wine.

Setting down his cup, the Captain said, "Howard was the most eligible bachelor of his time.
He was a very handsome man when I knew him"

Natasha, who'd been quietly listening as Brooklyn had, took this time to take hold of the
spotlight. It appeared she too wanted to deviate from this topic as much as possible, or
perhaps she considered teasing Rogers an art form.

"I didn't know you were so enamored by him, was there a secret love affair we need to know
about?" she said, and as if this were one of her classes at school, everyone went crazy at the
table with a large string of amused "Oooooh!" that echoed across the room.

Even Brooklyn smirked at the jab.

Meanwhile, Stark laid head first on the table, covering his poor ears and cursing Natasha's
words for summoning such an image in his head.

Sam, who was already in tears, added, "Then I guess you should start calling him Grandpa
Steve, Brooklyn. Even if he was just one of Howard’s flings since he was…how did you put
it, Steve? The most eligible bachelor of his time"

Roger's horrified look only made Brooklyn wanna play along more, even if she shouldn't, and
it would only get her attached to these people further...

"Well, such a title is justified for his age" Brook announced to the table, "Grandpa Steve it is"
Pepper’s melodic laughter was so intense that she had to leave the table to compose herself,
while Brook received pleas from both her otets and the Captain to never call him that again.

Thing was, her old self would've never played along in such things, but seeing the joy at the
table, hearing the pleas in favor from the others, it was nice...it made her happy. So, despite
never having had a grandparent in her life, Brooklyn wasn't angered or devastated that
Rogers would take that spot. Albeit jokingly.

Maybe he'd bake her cookies, and kit a few scarves as the TV shows often portrayed.

Even when others decided to give themselves titles of Uncles and Aunts as the evening went
on, Brook didn't object to their wanting to join this awkward family of hers, even if it was not
by blood but rather as a joke. She'd never had a family, much less an extended one at that,
and maybe it wouldn't be so bad either.

It was a small step toward further trust of the Avengers, but a step nonetheless.

The only time she intervened was when Spider-man tried to announce himself as Brook's
friend. That she would never be in her entire life, and she'd made sure he knew that by
throwing a bread roll at his head. She had a feeling that with his superhuman attributes he
could’ve caught it, but for whatever reason Spider-man let it hit him square in the face, much
to everyone’s amusement.

As far as family dinners went, maybe they weren't the worst thing imaginable.
 Battling Instincts

Brooklyn POV-

The room was dark, cold, and the faintest sound of beeping echoed in the distance. She
couldn’t work out how that was possible, last she recalled, Brooklyn had been dropped off at
home last night. She’d even asked FRIDAY to turn on the heater before crashing into bed.

That's when she realized, this wasn't her bed, it couldn't possibly be.

Where plush comforts should be, there was now a cheap string mattress with a metal base so
strong Brook could feel it digging into her back. But that kind of discomfort wasn't
completely unfamiliar after all.

Eyes shooting open, Brooklyn tried to reach for her Stark watch to use against whoever had
taken her from her apartment. But her hand wasn't met with the now familiar feel of the
smooth red metal piece on her wrist, but rather...a handcuff.

That was the first thing the teen noticed, her hand was cuffed to a metal bar of the bed’s
headboard. Then she noted the darkness of the room even her eyes had trouble adjusting to,
but when they did, she could just make out the barely visible beds beside her. Twins to her
own, spread in long rows all across the large industrial-like room.

With a panic, Brook realized where she was just as the blinking yellow lights atop the high
roof of the room turned on one by one. The sound of each coming on was like a fired bullet
that echoed along the large space.

It was then that the cuffed hand she'd been staring at shrunk to that of her younger self, and
all knowledge of the future disappeared. Now she was no longer Brooklyn Stark, she was just
10452. There was no such thing as an apartment in Queens waiting for her, or a family and a
future. There was only the Red Room.

Like she did every day of her youth, the five-year-old spy-in-training stretched out her arm
upwards, waiting to be free of the metal bite of her handcuffs.

Widows in black robes stained with blood passed by each row, unlocking each girl one by
one, looking like shadows of death rather than saviors. As was expected, the young girl kept
her expression neutral, not wanting to start off the morning with a long punishment for show.

When all the girls were freed and each had pushed aside her exhaustion to line up perfectly
still before their beds, a voice came in from the speakers above, the sound loud enough to
damage her ears.

The voice, belonging to the one and only Ivan announced, "Otpravlyaytes' v osnovnuyu
trenirovochnuyu komnatu dlya yezhenedel'nykh otsenok"
The order ran along her head as she followed the rest of the small widows out of the sleeping
chamber. It was as if those were the only words that mattered as they looped like a broken
record in her mind.

Head to the main training room for weekly assessments.

So the young girl marched along with the others to the changing rooms, which was just a
glorified metal cage with black uniforms on the floor for each of the hundred or so girls her
age.

No one cared for modesty, there had never been such a thing as privacy in here, and everyone
had been witness to the other's punishments to be bashful about scars or wounds. There was
no need to hide a thing.

Once the familiar fabric of her gray jumpsuit was on, with the crimson stains of blood from
last week washed off, Brooklyn followed her sestras down the flickering dark hallways, not
minding the coldness of the concrete against her bare feet.

If anything, it was a small comfort. A reminder that she was still alive enough to feel its cruel
bite. From another cruel perspective, the blood that was to come would warm, the body of the
girl she'd no doubt have to kill would be sweaty as well. But the ground was cold and lifeless.
The perfect way to ease her mind of the day ahead.

Soon, all the girls formed a perfect circle around the center of the training room made up of
charcoal-colored walls and polished marble floors, each widow remained perfectly apart and
still as statues...that's when four familiar adults emerged from the south door.

The first was Brook's biological mother, but she didn't know that yet at the age of five. At the
time, that was just her fiercest instructor.

90170.

The woman's lifeless green eyes scanned for mistakes and imperfections around the circle of
girls, and without a warning proceeded to decapitate a girl before young Brook, one on the
other side of the circle.

The now lifeless body hadn't buttoned up her suit right.

Brooklyn could not flinch or react in any way. The other three instructors were diligently
watching carefully for mistakes too. All anyone could do is continue to stare forward, hands
at their sides, and faces blank.

Her view forward just so happened to be of the fallen sestra. Her black hair was fisted on
90170's hands, and the bleeding head of the girl was picked up and thrown towards the
nearest wall, her small body following seconds later.

Even when Brook felt a small forbidden discomfort at the sight, the girl did nothing, only
realizing she'd have to take care not to accidentally slip on the remaining puddle of blood
when her turn to fight came about.
The true question was, who would she have to fight today?

The blonde girl next to her had done well in training this week, but Brook had noticed her
restless sleep lately. The young girl’s bed was beside Brooklyn’s, had been all their lives,
enough so to be confident in her assessment that something about the sleeping pattern was
off. That exhaustion could be a useful weakness.

Then there was the brunette, three trainees down, who had injured her leg after failing her
target practice two days ago. Everyone knew that with that injury, the girl was as good as
dead, it was only a question of how painful that death would have to be and who would deal
the final blow.

Brook, who was not Brook yet, had only received a black eye this week after she hesitated a
millisecond too late to strike a blow. Luckily, the swelling had gone down enough that her
vision would not be impaired today.

And it hadn't been.

The room had only gone deadly still when their master glided into the room, his personal
appearance a rarity that could only mean more blood would be spilled than usual. Whatever
reservations or aches the widows had quickly vanished to the back of their minds, knowing
that if they didn’t perform at their best, punishment or death would be all but guaranteed.

When then Ivan walked to the middle of the room right in her line of sight, folder in hand, as
he announced the day's partners with a hidden maniacal glee that threatened to send shivers
down her spine. Those cold silver eyes scanned the girls around him one last time before
heading up to his observation room with the quick command not to let him down.

Since none of the older and younger widows would not take part in the assessments today,
there would likely be fewer orders to kill, but that only meant those of Brook’s age group
would still meet their end. Someone always did.

The red-haired instructor who seemed to have it out for Brook instructed her to step forward.
Without hesitation she did so, basking in the microscopic reactions of hesitation from the
other sestras around her. No one was keen on fighting her, even when she sported a black eye.

Then their instructor called the number of another girl, like a death sentence from the grim
reaper.

Said widow in training was a little taller than Brook, with brown curls pushed behind her ears
and blue eyes that screamed death. As far as injuries went, she had none, but the young girl
with bright auburn hair recalled an injury to her leg from weeks ago she could prod for a
weakness.

Brooklyn...no...10452 had seen her around a few times, but she wasn't exceptional enough to
remember her number. She only knew strengths and weaknesses, advantages and
disadvantages.
Even now, the young girl could tell victory would not be difficult. The first match was always
a demonstration of sorts, a way to reiterate the expected standard, and display a guaranteed
battle to the death to instill fear. As the other girls marched backward to form an outer circle,
the four instructors made to stand in a tight circle around the small area allowed for the
match, to better judge their performance. Despite the audience, it was almost like the two
young girls were alone in the room. Like their breathing and movements were all that
mattered as the painfully yellow lights of the room shifted into a red hue that further
darkened the space.

She didn’t mind the darkness, and would use it to her advantage as she would all other visible
weaknesses.

Even if the other girl was taller, she was slower with her moves. She'd also likely been part of
the group who had ballet training yesterday because her lower legs were still shaking ever so
slightly from exhaustion.

10452 knew where to strike, how to get the girl on the ground. The only unknown variable so
far was how strong the girl truly was. Everyone was relatively skinny, pure muscle and slight
malnutrition. Since everyone got the same treatment, it was always harder to see whose
muscles had developed more under the gray suits.

The ballet instructor, a woman with darker skin and a large and nasty scar across her left eye,
was the one that screamed, "Prigotov'sya!"

Get ready.

The command ran along her mind, quickly assuming a proper stance on instinct.

The silence in the room was nerve-racking, but eventually, their weapons instructor, the
familiar woman who favored a bald head and a prosthetic arm, yelled the command 10452
had been waiting for.

"Nachinat'!" Commence.

From then, her vision focused on only one thing...her enemy. In no time, bones were broken,
blood was spilled, and a maniacal voice in her head actually relished in the feeling of the
imminent win of her trial. As predicted, once Brook's enemy was pinned down, unable to
fight back, the order was given to kill. She'd done so with no hesitation to avoid a punishment
likely worse than the black eye she already sported. At the end of the fight, Brooklyn had
only received a slightly painful jab at her rib area, but aside from that, no other slight
difficulties arose during the trial.

Now, her hands were covered in familiar red that dripped onto the black marble floors, her
gray romper could pass off as crimson-colored, and a small body with a broken neck and
limbs, lay still by her bare feet. 10452 didn't dare show herself catching her breath, she just
stood still waiting for her next command as the blood on the floor flowed between her toes.

If any mistakes had been made, she'd be whipped until walking would become difficult the
next few days. Thankfully, all that echoed across the room were not the sounds of leather on
skin, but another command, "Sleduyushchiy"

Next.

After hours of watching other performances, training, and methodically washing blood off
her body later, the young girl was back where she started. A metal bed, handcuffed strongly
to its headrest, and a body that didn't dare shiver from the cold as the guards did a final
inspection across the room.

The only difference was that the small five-year-old had a little bit more blood on her hands
than yesterday. Three bodies worth of blood to be exact.

When the lights went out and Brook was getting ready to sleep, a small voice beside her
spoke. A forbidden act from the blonde girl on the bed beside hers.

"Vot kto ty. Oni nikogda ne polyubyat tebya" said the petite voice, its echoes swimming
around the darkness of the room.

No one stirred, only Brooklyn, who suddenly remembered who she was thanks to the odd
words.

'This is who you are. They will never love you,' the girl had said.

It occurred to the now sixteen-year-old Brook, that her fellow sestra meant the Avengers,
perhaps her friends. Still, she could not move from the bed, or behold the girl who spoke out
of turn.

"Oni dobryye ko mne" Brooklyn dared to reply, but she did so softly despite knowing this had
to be a dream. The fear of speaking to another during bedtime was ingrained into her.

What she’d replied was true, after last night, she'd realized...that they were kind to her.

A small laugh from the young widow traveled across the room, a sinister noise that echoed
over and over to the point that it sounded like a choir was laughing at Brooklyn. It was then
that a pair of red glowing eyes emerged from the direction the blonde girl's bed should be.

Glowing red eyes that remained unblinking.

In English, the girl replied, "Monsters like us live alone. Monsters like us cannot let people
in"

Brooklyn was now struggling to free herself of the handcuffs to no avail, but still screamed
until her throat felt raw like sandpaper.

"I can! I'm trying!"

Then much to her surprise, it wasn't an instructor that came to kill her for the noise, but a pair
of small hands pushed her arms down harshly, and the girl from the bed beside Brook's sat
atop her with bloody hands finding their way to her neck, blocking her airflow.
Her amber eyes, pale skin, and golden hair were visible despite the dark, and the actions of
that five-year-old managed to wake up the room. But the lights did not come on, only
hundreds of bright red eyes appeared amidst the darkness surrounding her bed as Brooklyn
struggled with her life, trying to shake off the other two young girls that had joined in
pressing down her limbs.

The blonde girl atop her screamed back, "You will have no one! Not a single soul left when
they realize the most important thing, little spider! You are a weapon, a killer. You can try
and use a spear as a walking stick, but you can never change its nature"

That's what sixteen-year-old Brooklyn woke up to. Echoing words in her mind, the morning
sun behind her closed curtains, and the warmth of the heater trying to chase away the chills
the nightmare brought on. Her hands, no longer cuffed, went straight to her neck, and just
like every time she woke up from a dream fashioned from her past, Brooklyn let a few tears
flow down her cheeks.

Only this time she hadn’t been alone, FRIDAY’s voice immediately filled the space of her
room, offering to turn on the lights when her stiff body refused to get up. The A.I. then
proceeded to turn on the coffee machine for what it described would be a comforting drink
against the cold. It even offered to call her otets, thinking that there was an actual danger
outside of her mind that managed to startle the teen speechless.

Brooklyn accepted all offers but the last thing. Despite their truce, the last thing she wanted
Stark to know was that simple dreams affected her so strongly.

Minutes later, she sat on the couch with a warm cappuccino in hand at four in the morning.
Light from her TV illuminated the room as she pulled on her messy red locks
absentmindedly, trying to focus on the funny cartoons FRIDAY had put on.

Brooklyn stayed like that till six, unable to chase away the cruel memories or the words that
had startled her awake. The numbness receded as it always did after a time, she forced it to.

Still, she sat there until she had to get ready for school, now fueled with determination to
prove her dream wrong. She'd done so yesterday during the family meal, and day by day,
Brook would prove to her past that she could move on.

She'd stray from her birth mother's orders, she'd do her best to let go of the instinct to kill and
the pain of the past that could only be seen and remembered by the scars and wounds across
her body.

Clutching her Stark watch, Brooklyn observed the city outside from her living room window,
basking in the peace and the freedom of its morning glow.

Today was a new day. It had to be.

So when Peter came to pick her up (after a long shower and a comforting breakfast), she tried
to focus hard on the fact that he was her friend. Her first friend, one not leaving her or
running away.
Because of her bad dream, Brook tried her hardest to summon back yesterday's good mood
from when she’d returned from the compound, feeling accomplished and content. It was
made all the easier to push back the shadows of her nightmares when Peter shyly presented
her with a gift.

It was wrapped in newspapers, but when she looked inside, Brooklyn almost dropped the
package in hand when she noticed they were photos…Peter mumbled something about the
picture frames atop her fireplace being so empty, so he’d printed some out for her.

Though he said it wasn't much, Peter had just given Brooklyn the one thing she needed to get
through the day and prove the Red Room wrong. There was no way he could know that
having something to place on those frames was something she’d assumed would never be
fixed.

Now in the various once-empty frames atop the fireplace mantle were printed photos of
Brook and her friends from the day at the cafe. One of them was of Brooklyn, MJ, and Tanya
while they crossed the busy streets of Queens which must've been taken by one of the boys
without her knowing. Another depicted the whole group seated at the bubbly cafe with bright
smiles and milkshakes in hand. Then there was the one Harry took of the two of them by the
school gates, and one Tanya had taken of Peter and Brook when he was fawning over a comic
shop during their walk. That one was nice, both of them looking at the window of the
establishment without an ounce of worry.

Yes, Peter might never know how much these meant to her, especially after last night's
nightmare. His timing had been amicable, and even she could admit that her living room
space looked all the better with those small photos on display, that they were a reminder that
perhaps she wasn't as alone as she'd wagered she'd be all her life.

She'd arranged them all neatly, removing useless nicknacks and decorations to make space
for them all, even the photo of May and Peter her classmate had brought in.

"As a reminder that we are here for you," he'd said once they were all in place.

When the time to leave for school had come, Brooklyn had stared at her little treasures one
last time, even more determined to make the day a good one. Perhaps even longing for more
photos to join her collection in time.

Maybe one couldn't change a spear's nature, but one could technically reshape it with fine
tools to become a walking stick. That's what Brook would try to do at least.

"If you don't run, you don't get credit!" the P.E. teacher screamed from his seat, or more like
groaned impatiently. Brook doubted the man had the energy to scream anything regardless of
how hard he tried.

Brooklyn still found herself chuckling at the orders, continuing her easy jogging pace by
friends’ side. Peter, Ned, and MJ were setting a slow pace that she continued to follow as
they ran a few laps around the gym, despite being able to outlap them if she wished.
What had made her chuckle was that Mr.Wilson had yet to notice Harry running with them.

Harry had decided to bail out his art class and instead came to their own to 'hang out'. Every
time they passed by the teacher, the teens held in their laughs when Mr. Wilson failed to
notice Harry's intrusion.

How was that even possible!? Harry was wearing a bright red shirt!

All in all, after walking to school with the boys, then hanging out with Tanya in literature,
Brook's sour mood had been lifted. Her friends also seemed to notice she was more at ease,
and began involving her in more conversations, something that subconsciously helped ease
the girl's mind.

"Anyways, are you going to the game to support me, Stark? It's this Friday, a home game
too!" Harry asked, running backward before her jogging form.

Around Brook, her group of friends whispered encouraging words to attend. Truth was, she'd
never been to a game before, even at her old school. They always seemed so useless to
attend, and she'd had little pride in her school to go support it when she could be earning
extra cash at work.

But it seemed to be common courtesy to attend a friend's game, especially if he was playing.
Everyone else had already agreed to go in a heartbeat, even MJ promised to be there, which
would likely fuel Tanya's excitement during lunch since she mentioned during class that she'd
also be attending due to her cheerleading duties.

The two had also spoken about her 'Peter dilemma', but Brooklyn had reassured her friend
that she'd just get rid of these rising feelings for him. That would be the best for both her and
Peter, who was currently looking at her expectantly with those innocent doe-eyes that made
her resolve of steel crumble.

He'd be at the game, had already promised. A football field could be a dangerous place,
someone as fragile and gentle as Peter Parker could easily get hit by a football, or pushed
down onto the field by a rowdy student.

Perhaps Brooklyn should attend after all, not just for Harry's sake, but for her best friend's
too.

There was only one problem...

"I don't know. I'm supposed to go to my....father's place that day at six for family bonding.
How long is the game?" she asked.

Harry's usual smirk appeared immediately, "You can make it to halftime, and then go home"

"I've never been to a football game, I wouldn't know what to do"

Everyone stopped their running, clutching onto her poor arms, "You've really never been to a
football game in your life?!" Ned asked, as if she'd just confessed to a high-end crime.
Harry looked like he was about to cry.

In her defense, Brooklyn HAD seen games on TV since the neighbors she stole cable from
loved sports channels, but the ex-assassin wasn't exactly sure how High School games
worked. Some aspects of football itself were still a mystery to begin with.

"You don't have to do anything, Brooklyn. Those of us who don't play just stand there for a
few hours" MJ said with tired eyes, clutching a small book closer to her chest.

"MJ is right! you don't have to worry, we just stand by the bleachers and cheer for our school.
Harry and his team are the ones doing all the actual work" Ned explained, while throwing
glances back to make sure Mr. Wilson wasn't catching them slack off.

So...Brook would just stay with her group and cheer. How useless. But the group was excited
about it, and going is what a friend would do. Brooklyn might be uncomfortable with the
unknown, but she’d promised to prove to the Red Room that she could do this, be normal,
have friends, and maybe in the future…accept a family as well.

Fueled by determination, the teen promised to be at the field after school on Friday, and Peter
quickly offered to walk with her after Spanish so they could make it there together while the
others beamed her way. As if she’d handed them the moon.

"Excellent!" Harry cheered "I'll make sure my team is on point so we can impress you for
your first game! Oh, and make sure to wear something green! Or better yet, I'll give you one
of my spare jerseys tomorrow so you can wear my number!"

MJ suddenly stepped forward and shoved him, and with a reprimanding voice said, "Harry,
don't start your shit, not with Brooklyn"

Harry quickly interrupted, throwing his hands up in the air as a group of classmates ran by
them, confused by the scene her friends were making.

"As a friend of course!" Harry clarified, "The whole school is both dazzled and afraid of us
two, we have to show a unified front! The doomed rich kids united!"

Despite the simplified way in which it was worded, the statement was true.

Though some people still tried to approach her daily, Brook was oftentimes with at least one
of her friends, which kept most students at bay from their insistent efforts to gain her favor or
popularity. But as Harry said, the ex-assassin had noticed that some of her more shy
classmates were...intimidated by her, or rather, her last name.

While Harry practically thrived in the attention and easily brushed off the rumors brought on
by his last name, Brooklyn was much more reserved still, and perhaps that's what brought
more curiosity her way. At least her group of friends didn't react either of those ways towards
Harry and Brook.

At times, she was certain they couldn't care less about her last name, even if her haunting
dreams seemed to doubt it.
"Fine, you guys are the experts. I'll just do as you say" Brook replied, quickly setting the pace
of her group back to a jog when she noticed their P.E. teacher turned away from his magazine
to scan the room.

The first few jogs Brook took were spent in a bone-crushing hug from both Harry and Ned,
who were beyond pleased she'd be attending the game tomorrow. MJ was the one who
basically pried them away, her saving grace.

As the teens continued their slow pace along the slippery floors of the gym, Ned pointed out
during his ranting, "You can meet some of the Decathlon members at the game too! Betty
always brings green face paint so we can color our cheeks for team spirit!"

Peter was kind enough to point towards a blonde on the other side of the gym, running
alongside a small group of chatty girls who somehow made the absurd gym uniforms look
good. It occurred to Brook that she'd seen the girl not just in passing along the hallways, but
on the morning student news the school held.

It was easy to point her out as one of the more popular students who, like Harry, relished in
the attention of others. Like they fed on it. If it weren't for the Decathlon, she and Betty
would've likely never crossed paths.

But... she was another future team member and thus someone she’d have to get along with.

Wow, the word team still sounded odd in her head.

Brooklyn shrugged, "I can't wait to meet her then, anything else I should prepare for?"

"I'd bring a jacket, it gets cold sometimes" Peter added, "Oh, and we can leave our stuff in the
lockers before heading down to the field as well"

Brooklyn nodded, grateful for his help as always. She also made a mental note to make sure
Peter brought a jacket, she’d lived through Russian winters so it was he who should be
protected against the cold at all costs. To keep him alive, of course.

"And bring your pennies and couch bills! Because they have a treat shop set up in the field
when the game is on!" Ned added enthusiastically beside her.

Jacket, face paint, cents, jersey...just what did Brook get herself into?

"Her dad is a billionaire, Ned. I'm sure someone of Brooklyn's caliber doesn't need to dive
into a decaying couch for spare pennies" countered a voice behind them.

When the group stopped jogging and turned around, they were face to face with Flash and
three of his friends, all confidently sauntering closer to them with grins on their faces.

For the past few days, Brooklyn had been certain her little fight with Flash on the first day
had scared the guy enough that he'd never approach her or Peter again, even if there were
rumors of his interest in her around the halls in a…romantic sense.

Apparently, she'd been wrong about his eternal avoidance after all.
Brooklyn could do two things. Either she could try and be civil, give Flash the same
opportunity she was giving everyone else lately for a semblance of peace...or she could shove
his insufferable pride up his ass.

She decided to leave it up to him.

Though there were people she was willing to get close to, there were others that Brook knew
would never get that opportunity. Not everyone had good intentions, after all, not everyone
could be trusted.

"Why are you butting in where you're not wanted, Flash?" Harry scoffed, and Brook noted
the way he subtly moved to stand before Peter. Protecting him, just as she would.

Flash gasped dramatically, "What are you doing here anyway? This isn't your class, unless
your teacher thought you weren't good enough for it, just as I'm sure your dad does"

Brooklyn barely caught it, Harry flinching slightly at the words, but ultimately kept his
defensive stance before Peter who looked between the two boys nervously. Ned and MJ stood
by Brooklyn's side, no doubt thinking she'd start attacking Flash any second now...

And god she wanted to.

It would be so easy to kill this little nuisance, less than two calculated moves could render
him lifeless. His blood would stain the gym floors, and... she'd be in tremendous trouble not
just with the school but with SHIELD.

Not to mention, her poor friends would be terrified, and would likely never speak to her as a
result. Stark, who she just started getting along with, would no doubt disown her then for sure
and even Pepper would not come to her defense. Dinners like the one she'd had last night
would never happen again, and the small window of trust she'd opened up to the Avengers
would be bolted shut by them.

She’d end up alone.

"Vot kto ty. Oni nikogda ne polyubyat tebya". This is who you are. They will never love you.

That phrase from last night's nightmare haunted her thoughts, but not in the soft female voice
of the young widow that had tried to kill her...but Ivan's.

In the seven or so seconds it took her to ponder all those awful scenarios, her mind had been
made up at last. Instead of killing this idiot with her fists, she'd drive him away with words.

It was the best Brooklyn could do to preserve who she was and what she had.

"Why are you hiding behind Harry, Penis Parker? Think he'll protect you forever? You
should just invite your personal friend, Spider-man, to do that instead, don't you think?" Flash
added, earning fist bumps from his buddies and shocked stares from passing students that
decided jogging was not worth missing the drama unfolding before them.
Then she registered the taunting words Flash had said…about Peter and…Spider-man being
his personal friend? What the fuck did that mean!?

Seeing her confusion, Flash turned to face her.

"Oh! I forgot you weren't here for that, gorgeous" Flash said while his group wolf howled at
the disgusting nickname, "Peter once claimed that while he interned with your dad, he
actually became friends with the hero of Queens. Stupid right? Some people are just
desperate for attention"

Pot. Kettle. Black. That's what she wanted to bite back, but one look at Peter, and Brooklyn
was relieved to see the truth behind his nervous brown orbs. He hadn't, in fact, befriended the
spiderling she still had mixed feelings about. But it was obvious to anyone that knew Peter
that he hadn’t said that for attention, even after only knowing him for such a short period of
time, Brooklyn was more inclined to believe that had stemmed from a misunderstanding.

Of course, Flash didn't know that…and who better to attest to a rumor like that, than the
daughter of Tony Stark?

Brooklyn brandished a wicked smirk, placing a reassuring hand on Peter's arm as she said,
"I'm not confused as to why you said that, Flash. I'm confused that you think it's not true"

Flash's attack faltered then, his gaze no longer confident as he staggered back a step.

"It's true that Peter knows Spider-man. That d.." shit, she was about to say that dumbass.
Quickly recovering from her slip up so that no one may notice it, she improvised, "...dutiful
friend of mine mentioned he knew Peter when I told him about my new friend. Spider-man
actually likes him a lot from what he told me"

Harry's eyes went wide, and Peter looked like he was about to pass out from behind him.

"You really know Spider-man personally?" one of Flash's friends asked her, eyes lighting up
with hope.

Brooklyn fought hard to keep a sneer at bay. As if knowing an idiot like Spider-man was
anything great or worthy of worship. But she supposed that in this city, in particular, there
was no hero that was loved more. Here, Peter knowing Spider-man was the best thing that
could keep him safe.

So, for Peter's sake, Brooklyn smiled and added, "Yeah, you guys must’ve seen he and my
dad worked together during the accords nonsense, he’s made visits to the Avengers
Compound since. In fact, now that I live in Queens, I get to see him more often"

All true statements on their own.

Brooklyn HAD seen the masked hero on the news when that airport battle between Avengers
was broadcasted, and she HAD seen him at the compound multiple times. The only thing that
was a lie was her excitement and affection for Spider-man, but Flash didn't know that, not
when his mouth gaped open like a fish.
Faking a friendship with Spidy though…Peter should be glad she considered him a valuable
friend. Even though Spidy earned a pass yesterday with the Cassie ordeal, that didn't mean
she suddenly worshiped him as all these kids did.

Brook wasn't really sure WHY she still hated him now though. After all, She was almost glad
he hadn't let her die that day at her old apartment, and he'd technically saved her again that
day of the attack. Maybe Pepper was right and Brook was just too stubborn for her own good,
enough so that she couldn't let go of that original hatred.

Or maybe there was something else about him that justified her attitude.

But again, Flash didn't need to know that.

As the crowd of students around them gaped at her statement, Brook caught sight of a small
little pendant hanging from Flash's phone. His fingers barely concealed the little Spider-man
charm, evidence even he was not immune to devotion toward the hero. Odd, considering the
hero was supposed to stand for goodness, yet all Flash did was bully those he thought
beneath him. But maybe it could work to her advantage.

Brooklyn made a show of tilting her head, placing a finger against her mouth as she
'pondered' something with great focus.

"I do wonder what Spider-man would think if he knew someone was messing with his friend
Peter Parker? Don't you, Flash?" she asked sweetly.

He and his groupies were at a loss, and Brooklyn had somehow managed to win a fight
without killing anyone. Not bad, who knew a little lie could go so far? Well…Brook did, she
was a trained spy, after all, she’d been taught all about blending lies with truths as a child.

Only now she was using the skill for good?

"Hey! Keep running or you don't get credit for the day!" Mr. Wilson shouted from the other
side of the gym with little threat, but it still sent friends and foes back to a light jog to avoid
trouble should their teacher find the will to leave his chair.

As they slowly picked up speed, Brooklyn patted Peter's arm once and whispered, "I can't
believe that worked"

Peter, who looked like he'd been stuck in a panic nodded nervously, "Thank you for not
fighting him, I would've hated it if you got in trouble for me again"

Always thinking about others. Peter Parker was too good for this world.

"Yeah, my...father...and Pepper wouldn't have liked that" the girl replied, despite the fact that
Stark and his fiancee hadn't punished her the first time she'd gotten in trouble. Stark had
congratulated her actually.

Harry shifted to ruffle her loose auburn hair before saying, "I’ll give you my cookie today for
shutting up Flash like that. It was epic, Brooks! But speaking of Pepper Potts, isn't she going
to be your mom soon? The news has been buzzing about the engagement most people
thought they'd called it off"

Brook didn't think about that often. Sure, she'd have to accept Stark as her father eventually,
but Pepper was something else entirely. Though perhaps not as unrelated to the topic of
family after all.

If she was being honest, Brooklyn would admit she actually liked Pepper. That woman was
probably the only person in the world aside from her sestra that Brook found herself afraid to
disappoint. Pepper was also the only person that could make the stubborn ex-assassin do
anything, but with an air of kindness with every command.

Brooklyn had been told love was an illusion, a series of chemical processes in a person's
body rather than something that could be seen. But it was obvious to Brook that Stark and
Pepper were in love. Even a blind person could see it.

But thinking of Pepper as a mom...it made her nervous.

Brooklyn had never had a 'father' per se. There was Ivan early in her life, but he was more of
a master than anything close to the traditional fatherhood most experienced. Stark was the
first image of what a father was supposed to be.

But Brook HAD known her birth mother. A cold woman who never acknowledged her as
anything but another trainee. She'd been the one to subject Brooklyn to some of the harshest
punishments she’d suffered, including most of the ones that adorned her back to this day.
That woman had only ever spoken to Brook's younger self when it was related to her future
mission or to point out a flaw...

That's what a mother was to Brook, but ever since she'd met Pepper Potts...well that woman
was nothing like her birth mother. In the ex-assassin's eyes, Pepper was not the way a mother
should be, the ‘motherly image’ in her mind had always meant something dark and
dangerous.

But her friends had likely grown up with mothers like the ones displayed in movies and
shows. The ones that comforted their crying kids with hugs and kisses, cooked them lunches,
and reassured them of their worth with every year that went by.

That had to be the true meaning of motherhood, and though her birth mother was nowhere
close to that mark…Pepper had displayed all of that kindness and nurturing spirit since
they’d met. Was that what a mother was supposed to be? Would Pepper even want to be that
to someone that wasn’t her daughter?

So Brooklyn shrugged, "Yeah, when they decide to marry I suppose Pepper will be my mom"

"You don't sound happy about that," MJ pointed out, closing her book to turn her full
attention back on them.

It's not that she disliked Pepper, it's that she was weary of the concept of mothers, but of
course, MJ couldn't know that.
Thankfully the teacher's whistle spared her the excuse, and her friends had forgotten the
unfinished subject by the time classes and lunch rolled around.

The streets of Queens were busy as always, but they felt somewhat lonely without Peter
Parker by her side. Not because Brook had any sort of infatuation towards him, not at all, it
was just because they usually talked on their way home.

He'd had to stay behind for Decathlon practice, which she'd start next week. Brook supposed
that now wasn't against the idea of joining like before, especially when her phone kept
buzzing with hilarious notifications.

At lunchtime, Brook's phone had been passed around so everyone could put their numbers in.
They'd been too astounded when they saw Brook only had the numbers of the Avengers and
some marked with odd codes on her phone. It could've been a slip-up in her 'I'm a normal
teenage girl' cover, but the ex-assassin had her quick thinking to thank for mentioning it was
a new phone as a way to fix the odd mistake.

That had placated her friends enough that they added their numbers without pondering the
oddity of it all. They were excited to keep contact with her for some reason, which Brook
didn't quite understand since she'd never texted anyone other than her sestra and Stark.

Prior to that, she’d only had her boss and her adoptive mother as contacts on her crappy flip
phone, both contacts which she rarely called to begin with. She’d lied to her friends and
mentioned any old friends she’d had from her youth had lost touch, a way to explain her lack
of understanding on the seemingly normal subject.

Brook was told there were many advantages to keeping in touch via phone, like making plans
for after school, messaging each other when bored in class, and even for homework
questions. In fact, Brooklyn was even added to a Decathlon group chat that would apparently
come in handy since MJ sent very useful reminders for meetings and competitions.

Right now, it was being used to send videos of Flash (who Peter failed to mention was in the
team) hitting his forehead on a little bell repeatedly, some photos taken by Ned of Harry
training out on the football field outside the decathlon room window, where Tanya was also
practicing with the cheer team.

Some messages were just jokes, which Brook responded to, at least when she could...

Even with the cloudy weather, Brook now kept her shades on as she passed by the busy
pedestrians on the way home. It was a futile effort to hide her identity because the first thing
that happened while walking all on her own resulted in many unwanted stops by people who
wanted a photo with Tony Stark's daughter.

Remembering she had a reputation to keep, Brook had allowed the intrusion, faking a few
smiles here and there, but she’d never realized how being a celebrity could hinder simple
things like walking home. That alone had pissed her off enough to keep the black shades on
that Happy had bugged her about getting during the shopping trip not long ago.
Who knew Happy's help ended up coming in handy?

Despite no longer being bugged for attention as often with her poor disguise, the streets
seemed a lot calmer, even if they were still filled with too many people. Some were still
eyeing Brooklyn, whispering her name hopefully amongst each other. Fed up, Brook decided
to get rid of the attention Peter's presence usually shook away, and elected to calculate a route
using the least amount of busy streets as possible to get home before her growing temper
exploded.

It would be beneficial so that Brook could get to know the city better, and find ways of
escape just in case of an emergency. If she was going to further study the Queen's
underground market in the future for signs of alien weapons, it would help to know as much
of the city as possible, especially the areas around her home and school.

With newfound purpose, Brooklyn swerved towards the alleyways, and thanks to her
smartphone (which actually had Google Maps), she was able to work out a lonely route back
to the apartment complex.

After how fabulously well her previous shortcut went last time the day Spider-man had first
met her, she really should’ve known something would go wrong.

Halfway through the walk, the ex-assassin began basking in joy about having found this new
lonely path. No one recognized her here, peace and quiet reigned supreme again...it was like
how life used to be a week ago before she’d become somebody.

In fact, the alleyway she was in resembled the old and battered streets she used to walk by in
the cheap neighborhoods of Brooklyn, a place no one would imagine the heiress Brooklyn
Stark to ever be in. She was so lost in her emotions that Brook almost missed the sudden
footsteps behind her.

Too rushed to be normal.

When she turned around, a man concealed in all black wasted no time to lunge towards her
with a large knife, one which Brooklyn barely dodged as she staggered onto one of the
building's walls.

Despite the slight discomfort in her palms from where skin met ragged wall concrete, the girl
quickly turned back to see her attacker crouched where her figure used to be.

The man did not back down after his failure the way someone looking for cash might, he just
clutched the knife in a better position before lunging again. Had she not been so busy shoving
her backpack in the knife's way, Brook might have been impressed by his skill.

This wasn't a common robber....no, they didn't move like this. This was a trained assassin.

True to her suspicions, the man was relentless in his attacks, but still took care to keep in the
shadows and make as little noise as possible. This stranger only staggered when Brooklyn's
speed and skill outsmarted his attacks.
He did not expect her to be able to defend herself then, something Brooklyn would make sure
he'd never forget.

Her anger and patience was running thin thanks to the attention she’d received outside and
inside school walls, enough so that Brooklyn couldn’t help but let go of her hesitation, and at
last, left the defensive strategy behind.

Throwing her battered backpack on the cold ground along with her phone still beeping with
incoming messages from her friends, Brooklyn quickly swerved under the man's arm, and in
a move that no doubt broke his wrist, she swatted his knife away with her foot.

As soon as the man's muffled screams filled the dark alleyway, Brooklyn took the time to
discard her coat, mittens, and shades as she smirked down at the fallen form clutching his
wrist. At that moment, Brooklyn couldn't care less if this was someone who had issues to
settle with Stark, or if it was an assassin sent from the Red Room. No one should be foolish
enough to attack her, and those who did would always pay the ultimate price.

Like every time when she’d trained in the Red Room, Brooklyn's gaze turned deadly, and her
limbs were practically buzzing with the anticipation to kill, even if her brain was now
hesitant to do so.

While the attacker was down, Brooklyn made use of the time to hold onto his injured arm,
twisting it behind him easily, rendering it useless with only an angered scream to signify the
gravity of the man’s pain.

But it wasn't enough...

Grabbing the discarded knife, the girl twisted it a few times in the cold fall air before
stabbing it through the other hand that was reaching for yet another weapon. It wasn't until
Brook made sure that knife was embedded well between a crack on the concrete floor that
she stood back up, bruising off invisible flecks of dust from her jeans and baby-blue shirt.

As the man continued trying to repress his screams, the ex-assassin smirked, fully satisfied by
the flowing blood on the otherwise colorless floor. This was vengeance served…now all she
had to do was kill this fool, send a message to whoever had tried to take her life to ensure it
would never happen again.

Then suddenly Brook's mind was filled suddenly with peculiar images, some that had never
appeared before when she'd been in this killing mindset. Her thoughts recalled Fury's angered
expression during training, Stark's concerned gaze from yesterday when he asked about her
life, and at last...she imagined Pepper's disappointed eyes.

Her determination wavered…but her assassin mindset tried to justify the kill, saying that it's
what a hero would do. Rid the world of a monster. It's what Brooklyn should do...kill.

It was with that in mind that the teen picked up a broken beer bottle near the trash cans beside
her. Its uneven jagged ends were promising for burying into the attacker's neck. But first....
"Who sent you to kill me?" she asked with a bored sigh, keeping her voice low and the new
weapon close for him to see.

The man did not answer, not even when she kneeled beside his body and quickly lowered the
bottle closer to his body close to a vital artery along his neck. Even when Brook ripped his
black mask away, his determined gaze was unwavering.

Brooklyn knew that look. This man would not speak, no matter how much she tortured him.
There was a staleness in his eyes that gave away his lack of lust for life, something that had
been trained out of him. He was a dead end, loyal to whatever master pulled his strings…and
for her, that meant he was useless.

So Brook did as she often had before, she raised her make-shift weapon for a nice blow to the
head. It would be a slow painful death...one she was no longer allowed to perform.

You're here to become an Avenger, a symbol of hope.

Would you really want to bring that kind of stain to your family name, Stark?

Words that had been spat at her during her failed training days ago suddenly crashed into her
mind like waves in the ocean. Brooklyn recalled the way he and Adonis had frowned at her
behavior, had scolded her for it.

Somehow, those words held different a meaning now that worrying about her family name
was an actual concern. Stark would hate her if she did this, Pepper would too....and the
taunting and cruel words of her dreams would be correct in assuming she was still nothing
more than a monster.

Brooklyn would prove to the memory of Red Room correct, that she was unworthy of having
a family or friends like Peter Parker just by killing this man.

Despite the almost unbearable urge to bring down the weapon against her assailant, the
thought of all she could lose was enough for the teen to lower the broken beer bottle not onto
flesh, but slowly to the floor where it could harm no one.

Instead, she pulled the guy up close by the collar of his black suit. It took everything in her
not to choke him to death, the urge to kill was still so strong that it threatened to make Brook
want to scream in frustration, so she mentally repeated all those words said to her by Fury
and Adonis to keep her restraint in place.

"Do not follow or think about attacking me again. Understood? In return, you can keep your
miserable life and tell whoever sent you to fuck off. Got it?"

His stale brown eyes stared up at Brook, and he relented a simple nod.

With that, Brooklyn left his pathetic self to lay on the cold ground, gathering her things while
thinking of pleasant thoughts so she wouldn't take back her words after all. The teen
summoned images of Steve's pancakes, Peter’s ramblings, Stark’s Russian, May's laugh, and
even Cassie's tea party just to keep herself in check.
After gathering her belongings, Brook turned away from the assailant and began walking
back out the alleyway. Just as she began eyeing the Stark watch on her wrist, considering
asking FRIDAY to contact someone to incarcerate this son of a bitch, her brain rationalized
something.

The attacker was not afraid in the least when she threatened his life. He was most definitely a
trained assassin, but from who was the question? More importantly....why was he so quiet
after such a defeat?

Rushed footsteps rang along the alleyway, just loud enough for Brook to realize he would
attack even after she'd spared his life. It's all he knew to do, and in the empire of assassins,
failure was unacceptable. Whatever he had to do to win, he’d do.

Dropping her things, Brook pivoted back with the Stark blaster in place, and by the time the
blue light on her hand charged, a beam was released in the nick of time before the attacker's
knife could impale itself into her heart. The same knife she’d used to pin his hand to the
concrete.

The man's body fell with a loud thud, and Brooklyn was surprised that its noise and the one
from her blaster hadn't attacked any attention from the windows of the two buildings she
stood between. It took a few seconds to process that she’d almost been killed by her own
mercy, that she’d put enough trust in Stark's technology to save her rather than deal with an
attack as she normally would.

Suddenly, Brooklyn was very glad Peter had stayed behind, even though she likely would’ve
never gone this way if he hadn’t been absent.

Looking down at the assailant’s body, the ex-assassin was a little startled to see the energy
from the blast had been strong enough to pierce through his bulletproof vest...past it actually.

Her blood went cold as she beheld the hole on his chest, which was smoking, big enough to
see his main vital organ was reduced to nothing. He was most certainly dead.

Dead by her hands...because she hadn’t taken the time to test out Stark's watch, figured it
only had stunning capabilities when fired randomly. That didn’t matter now, did it? She’d
killed someone.

As she dumped the nameless body down the nearby sewers after using his knife to
completely cover the blast by mutilating the skin to mask the cause of death, Brook found she
was beyond infuriated because she'd tried to do the right thing for once, and that guy had
ruined it.

Even when his body had disappeared into the darkness below and all evidence of the attack
was taken care of, Brooklyn was left with an unfamiliar feeling of absolute guilt. Yet, to her
horror, she also felt relaxed in a way, as if she'd gone too long without killing and had been in
desperate need of a release.

It was all so confusing, a jumble of knots in her head that kept fighting with one another.
She'd killed someone...

The question was, what to do now?

Brooklyn wasn't as apprehensive of the Avengers anymore, but she didn't want them to
become more overbearing over her either. Either they would hate her for what she’d done, or
if they managed to overlook the crime, they’d make her move into the compound for her
safety.

Neither of those options sounded very enticing, even if they were the right thing to do.

She convinced herself that she'd already handled the situation, there was no need for anyone
to know a second-rate assassin had tried to kill her. It was fine, and once she got home,
Brooklyn would take a look at the wallet and phone she'd swiped from the guy...or maybe not
right away.

Hopefully, he was just a common robber with a surprising lack of fear, because she'd hate to
find out it was someone Ivan sent to kill her at last. Or maybe even someone from SHIELD,
or remnants of HYDRA, however unlikely those last two options were, it was still something
to consider as she gathered her stuff from the dirty floor.

HYDRA was most certainly at its weakest after the whole ordeal in Washington DC years
ago when they’d tried to infiltrate SHIELD, but like rats, they'd likely retreat to the shadows
and multiply in numbers until they could rise again.

Isn't that what part of their slogan had been? Cut off one head, two more will grow back?

Brooklyn had met some of HYDRA's people long before they were exposed by the Avengers.
They had come to the Red Room often, though she hadn't known their organization by name
then. She'd only recognized them after seeing their symbol on the news years ago when
Captain America fished them out of the shadows.

That same tentacle skull head that was in the government reports had been equal to that of the
men who had been invited by Ivan to oversee the additional training of the young ones like
Brook.

The leader’s face had been obscured by shades all the time, so Brooklyn had never found out
if he was one of the apprehended HYDRA agents from SHIELD. What she did recall during
her numb walk back to the apartment was that he'd been some sort of scientist, with a weak
stomach that wretched when he’d seen Brooklyn gut two of the teen widows. His
companions hadn't even moved a muscle, but they had pointed out her skill set was
impressive. She'd been six at the time, and though there was word of them visiting more
times after that, the little assassin had never seen their insignia again.

Not that she'd cared, the Red Room had many visitors from different secret organizations that
were outside the realm of morality. They’d had strenuous alliances with other assassin
groups, but Hydra had been the first that had not labeled itself that way, which is why she’d
bothered to remember despite being so low-level in the empire of crime when she’d been a
child.
Hydra wasn't special by any means, but it was certainly a possibility that Ivan could've sent
someone from that organization after her since they’d clearly had close ties once upon a time.
Sending one of his own Widows would've proven Ivan was alive, and maybe he wasn't. But
whoever was in charge of the scraps that remained of her old home could've arranged this.
That assassin...those moves weren't Red Room, and SHIELD would've known by now that it
took more people to bring her down.

By the time Brooklyn's pondering had reached an all-time high thanks to the large list of
enemies she hadn't realized could be out for her, the gates of her apartment became visible at
last. The teen had never been more eager to head inside to rest, even if she'd have to find a
way to conceal the small gashes on her backpack for tomorrow as well as figure out who'd
tried to take her life.

All that hopeful planning came to a stop when a car pulled up behind her, slowly inching
closer to where Brook remained frozen, ready to attack if need be in case round two was
about to start. She’d seen no lookout in the alleyway, but it was possible she’d missed
someone in her distracted state.

But the yellow tint of the sports car was familiar, yet it did very little to ease her nerves. If
anything it increased the panic barely concealed in her eyes.

Sure enough, Tony Stark became visible after he pulled down the passenger window. The
familiar red shades, business suit paired with a casual t-shirt, a fashion style only reserved for
her otets.

Darn it…why was he here!?

Panic began to rise in Brooklyn as she realized he must already know what she'd done, the
life she'd taken. Maybe FRIDAY had connected to her watch, maybe the machine had lied
days ago when it said she wasn't installed to spy on Brook.

Maybe it had reported the whole incident.

Despite the loud rock music coming from the car and stares from passing pedestrians,
nothing was louder than the beating of Brook's heart against her ribcage as she met Stark's
eyes.

"It's Britney bitch," he said as a way of greeting, almost causing Brook to drop her phone.
One glance at the fumbling technology thankfully confirmed there was no blood in her hands.
At least none visible.

To her surprise, Stark’s eyes were kind and un-reprimanding, and there wasn't an ounce of
judgment in them. In fact, he looked…happy. Eager for something.

"Um, hi?" Brook said, trying to appear calm, "What are you doing here? It's Thursday, my
day off until the Decathlon starts"

Maybe he'd just confused the days...yeah maybe.

Stark shrugged, pressing a button that opened the passenger door with ease.

"Get in, loser. We're going somewhere," he said, and if Brooklyn hadn't watched Mean Girls
at school once, she might have actually thought he was insulting her for the kill she'd made.
She might’ve panicked and run inside until he inevitably flew into her apartment with his suit
and dragged her to jail.

Brook stayed rooted to the ground, looking around the busy and unsuspecting streets as she
whispered, "Why are you here? Is there something wrong?"

Stark laughed.

"What? No. I'm going up to the Stark Industries building to deal with some work. I thought
you might want to see it since...you know," he said gesturing her way, and Brooklyn was able
to finish that sentence in a way that thankfully did not end in 'you just killed someone'.

He was taking her to Stark Industries because she might have to inherit the massive company
one day.

Spending time with her otets wasn't as miserable to think about as it had been before, even
with the looming secret of the events of a few minutes ago. If only because she truly wanted
to know more of Stark Industries so as to not be in the dark anymore when it came to such
matters, Brook hopped in without much reluctance.

Perhaps also to see if he truly knew nothing of what had happened.

Stark seemed surprised that she actually did, enough so that he didn't notice the subtle way
Brooklyn threw her backpack onto the back seats so he wouldn't see the slash marks on her
once pristine object.

"Ok, great. So…did you just get home?" Stark asked as the teen began strapping herself in, "I
thought you got out of school a while ago. I figured I’d have to call to get you to come down
from your apartment but I managed to catch you just in time"

Well, she'd taken a longer way home to avoid people, then almost got killed and ended up
having to hide a dead body. That took a substantial amount of time to deal with.

"I was exploring Queens a little better, trying to see if there was a place nearby to buy a
cooking book for my neighbor," Brook said, lying right through her teeth.

At first, the girl thought her lie had been too unbelievable because Stark took his hands off
the wheel and stared down at her with a raised brow.

"You want to buy something for someone?" he asked, earning a reluctant nod from Brook.

Out of all outcomes, Brook did not expect him to smile. But he did, widely.

"Great idea! I should congratulate you on your selflessness, I guess I just did. As long as
you're not buying drugs or something illegal, use the card you got from SHIELD. It's
connected to my personal accounts so you can do what you want with it"
Again, there was that offer of money she had no clue what to do with. Still troubled by her
guilt, Brooklyn simply nodded and remained silent until the car joined traffic on its way to
Manhattan. The city known for the Avengers, their crown jewel.

The long talk about what to expect was distracting enough that for a few minutes, Brooklyn
completely forgot she'd just killed a man, too immersed in the new information to register
much else.

It wasn't until Stark congratulated her once more over little things like agreeing to go with
him, or for considering taking over the company one day in such a rushed way that her mind
couldn't help but worry that her nightmare's words could be true after all.

If he found out what she'd just done, would Stark really abandon her?
 The Heiress

Brooklyn POV-

"Welcome back, Mr. Stark," said a woman clad in formal attire as she waved excitedly for
two guards to open the massive frosted main doors while handing over a stack of folders to
her otets.

Before they moved inside, the woman turned to Brook and bent down slightly to be at eye
level with the teen, as if she were talking to a child, while another person made to take her
thankfully-not-bloodied coat.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stark. I'm Ms. Wilson. Don't worry about a thing dear, it's
not scary at all in there. I'll make sure your first visit to the New York establishment is a
pleasant one" the black-haired woman said, patting the top of Brook's head, enough so that
the ex-assassin could see Stark flinch at the action.

He thought Brook would attack, and she wasn't stupid enough to lie to herself, this woman
WAS getting on her nerves so the thought HAD crossed her mind once that hand made
contact with her auburn locks. More so when Ms.Wilson added, "If you get bored at any
time, you can tell me and I'll take you to one of the lounge areas. I'm sure someone can fetch
something entertaining for you to do while your dad is done with business"

Brooklyn felt her eye twitch, and even though the waves of her earlier kill were still buzzing
across her body, the girl repressed them, instead shooting an unamused and unwavering
glance at the woman, keeping eye contact while brandishing a bright smile she barely had the
energy to summon.

"That won't be necessary, Ms. Wilson. I'm here to become better acquainted with the
company. If I am to inherit it one day, it's about time I know how it functions so I can help
create a promising future, don't you think?"

Ms. Wilson almost tripped on her stilettos, and her eyes widened enough that Brook was
almost convinced they'd expand as much as those of Spider-man's mask could. The woman
impersonating a gaping fish was left in the dust as Brooklyn decided to make her way inside
the busy building.

Thankfully, her otets followed suit, and when she looked up at him Brook noticed he was
fighting back a laugh.

"You're not going to reprimand me for talking back to that woman?" she asked softly enough
that the passing workers would not hear.

Stark placed an arm on her shoulder, and unlike the last time he'd done so, Brooklyn didn't
shake it away. Maybe it was because they’d managed to gather the attention of nearly every
worker in the lobby and had appearances to keep, or perhaps she was just growing
accustomed to it.
Or maybe, just maybe, she really needed the comfort after what she’d done in that alley. An
assassin feeling guilty for killing…what a joke.

Ignoring the crowd in the room with an ease Brooklyn envied, Stark shot her a bright smirk.

"I didn't have the balls to talk back at someone belittling me when I was your age, much less
when I first came to the company" he replied in a hushed whisper.

Brooklyn couldn’t help but smirk back, and under the curious gazes of the room, she stood up
straighter and made sure to keep eye contact with everyone around that dared stare their way.
If like Ms. Wilson, they thought she was just a spoiled little girl here on a field trip, then they
were sorely mistaken.

Though there is no way they would know it, Brook didn't like to do things poorly. It was one
of her less deadly assassin traits that had been instilled into her very being. Ivan had made
sure all widows would give 100% effort into every task and deep anything less than
perfection a failure. In an effort to push all of Ivan’s cruel teachings behind, Brooklyn had
decided to call that determination so as to fool herself into having a ‘normal’ trait.

Now that being the heiress of Stark Industries was part of her imminent future, she'd make
sure to do it flawlessly.

When two other women came to replace Ms. Wilson, the 'tour' of the building began. Though
it was a bit ironic being shown around the place Brook was once meant to take over for
nefarious purposes, the teen did her best to push that thought aside and focus on the Red-
Room-free future she'd partake in eventually.

One of the secretaries actually dropped a few of her things when the teen asked for some
paper and a pen to take notes on all that was being said. As if none of them actually thought
Brooklyn show the slightest professional interest in this place, how laughable.

So Brook spent her afternoon learning about the different branches of the multinational
industrial company, the largest tech conglomerate in the world. Though the company had
strayed from weapon manufacturing for armed forces purposes, a fact Ivan would no doubt
have found incredibly bothersome since that's what he had originally wanted the company
for, this place and all others around the world belonging to the Stark name now held much
more promising works.

The teen learned that Stark Industries focused on technological advancements, and there were
many subsidiaries under its wings that Brooklyn would have to manage as well. Different
sections of this building were akin to control centers for each of these side companies
purchased by her otets, which managed their facilities all around the world.

Brook hadn't expected there to be so many, but one by one, each section of the elegant
building was labeled by one of these.

Some of them were not surprising. Accutech, Stark-Fujikawa, and Cordco each specialized in
a different development of technology, mostly meant for commercial use or equipment
reserved for the Avengers. Those would no doubt be the biggest focus when it came to
running the company smoothly.

When they neared the east side of the building, Stark pointed at the logo atop the grand doors
with pride.

U.S. Department of Damage Control.

"Are they overseeing the company for funny business?" Brook inquired, remembering how in
her infancy, there was the famous scandal regarding Stark Industries selling weapons to
terrorist groups under the temporary CEO...whatever his name was.

Stark didn't wait for the all-knowing secretaries to answer, he just waved his hand and the
doors before them opened automatically. Inside the multiple-level space made mostly of
white walls and tinted windows were dozens of enormous monitors popped on the tall walls,
rows upon rows of large tables across the space, each with various command centers.

Brooklyn quickly noted how each monitor displayed a different American city, some even
had profiles of specific individuals within them.

This governmental office place was not looking into Stark Industries then?

Beside her, Stark tapped her notepad as he said, "SHIELD created the Damage Control
Division long ago, and after New York, the government and I purchased it"

"You own a part of the government?" Brooklyn asked, suddenly unsure if she'd belittled this
company's job too early.

Her father nodded, turning his attention to some heavily locked adjacent rooms on the first
floor and atop the stairs.

"This facility mostly specializes in acquiring AND storing unique artifacts while acting from
physical and media standpoints. In simpler terms, we take care of the dangerous things under
the law like a messed up museum. This is actually where most of the alien weapons and
materials from wars past are being stored" he added.

Brooklyn was suddenly very aware that this was the place that had been in charge of taking
care of clean up after the Battle of New York, the governmental branch that had clearly not
succeeded since there were so many alien weapons running rampant in the streets to catch the
Avenger’s attention. She'd always assumed the government had been the one tasked with the
trouble of dealing with it and the Avengers were just called in for backup to fix the mistake.

But in raw terms, this alien weapons dilemma was a Stark issue.

"Just how involved is Stark Industries with the government?" she dared ask, looking around
the room in amazement as a current issue was being dealt with on the far side of the room,
something about a group called The Watchdogs, an armed radical hate group with plans to
eliminate people with superhuman powers.
They had destroyed a building in Jersey and a special clean-up crew was on its way. After a
subtle nudge and nod from Stark, the teen realized it had something to do with the alien
weapons.

"I wouldn't say we’re too involved, I march at my own pace most of the time. But it does take
quite a bit of time to manage this division properly, especially nowadays" Stark said,
frowning at the images on the glass-like monitors.

After writing everything down for her sake, Brooklyn began growing bolder with her
questions.

"This place must have valuable information for....stopping these criminals," she said, taking
care to keep out the part of Brook being part of SHIELD. She didn't need these common
secretaries and Stark/government officials to know that yet.

Her otets seemed to catch her drift quickly because he motioned for one of the ladies to grant
access of all information to Brooklyn, even when she hadn’t been asking for that particular
reason.

When the taller of the two went to do just that, Brook asked the other for a new pen if only to
send her way while she whispered to Stark.

"Are you sure Fury will want me to have more information than I should? I'm not even a
SHIELD agent yet"

He scoffed playfully, "This department is mine, not his. I can decide what to give you access
to when it comes to the company, Fury decides what to do in SHIELD. Besides, you're my
daughter, one who should understand what she's getting into. My own father never told me he
was part of SHIELD, you know? Always went away on business trips which I assumed were
just boring meetings in foreign countries, when in reality he was…trying to save the world I
guess"

Brooklyn had always assumed Stark had been part of SHIELD since his youth. So is this why
he was willing to trust her so thoroughly despite her past? Because his own father had not
done the same, and Stark deemed it a mistake he wasn’t willing to see repeated?

It was a lot of information to process, and the rest of the tour certainly added to it.

The large Stark Industries building held many more responsibilities than she could’ve ever
imagined, most of them with the intent of helping the world in one way or another.

All this time, Brooklyn thought Stark was just a rich CEO who made technology for profit.
She'd imagined him to be a lazy man who sat around waiting for his company to manage
itself. But as they went by every department, she realized he seemed to know many workers
by name and even signed and approved projects and documents as they went along.

There wasn't one aspect of this company Stark wasn't aware of, not one.
All the workers treated Brook with equal respect and gladly answered any questions she had
on all the projects they were working on. In no time, word must've spread around of the
Starks' presence, because the staff now knew what to expect of her. Instead of treating her
like a kid, they gladly went on about their work, explaining the basics for her benefit, even
when they were all busy working for some big event scheduled for the end of the year.

It wasn't until they made it to the upper levels that the Starks found Pepper and Happy
making their way to the main office. Her otets explained that while he managed the current
issues of the world, his fiancée was taking care of the company, something Brooklyn would
forever admire the woman for after this tour.

This was a lot of work, and the fact that Pepper could run it smoothly by herself...it was
almost unbelievable.

When Pepper and Grumpy noticed their arrival shortly after, both adults gawked at the sight
of Brooklyn, no doubt surprised the teen was actually there. The large respect she felt for
Pepper Potts actually kept Brooklyn from flinching at the hug the woman gave her once the
woman rushed over to them.

Again, the touch was not bothersome like other times, but comforting in a way she’d never
appreciated until lately. It made her like she wasn’t alone. It was a sudden choice, deciding to
try to improve her progress on embraces a little bit more than last time. Yet Brook committed
to the change, shifting her stiff body so as to have one of her arms pat Pepper’s back as
fondly as she could. The way she’d seen Maggie do to Cassie, Nanna to her two grandkids, or
Aunt May to Peter.

The foreign action on her part did not go unnoticed by her three companions, or the workers
around them.

Looking up at the kind woman, Brook was reminded of Harry’s inquiries from gym class
about Pepper being her future mother. As the teen beheld the pooling tears in the woman's
eyes, of joy no less, she was suddenly certain having her as a first mother figure may not be
the end of the world after all.

Having such a strong and powerful woman around would be a welcome change, especially if
Pepper elected to greet Brook like this all the time. Now that she was certain Pepper would
not try to kill her, the warmth and gentle pressure of these hugs were an action she now
regretted being deprived of all her life.

When the two parted slightly, Brooklyn tried to hide her embarrassment, but was quick to
notice Pepper’s red-lipped smile had only grown after the embrace.

"Thank you for the hug" Pepper whispered delicately, and further proving that perhaps she
WAS paying attention to what kind of person Brook was, the woman added, "I know its hard
for you, but I am honored that you would try for me"

Brooklyn only nodded as she retreated back a step, trying to hide the blush of embarrassment
behind her loose hair. Despite having been a rash decision, not regretting it was a surprise.
"So you can give hugs now? The wonders of public school…" Happy said, at which time
Brooklyn considered sending a middle finger his way, then remembered where she was and
how hard she was working on making sure her name had a good image.

Instead, Brooklyn replied, "Always a pleasure to see you, Happy. I like the different look,
instead of a black tie you chose a coal-colored one. What a change, don’t you think?"

Stark actually howled at the jab, ignoring Happy's glare as he went to kiss and hug his future
wife. The look between them was so raw and powerful, Brooklyn was seriously wondering if
love was too little a word for what those two had.

"Don't be like that, Happy" Pepper scolded softly after the kiss, then turned Brook's way,
"We're glad you're here, Brooklyn. Tony said he would try to get you to come since he has to
sign a few things but we figured you might not want to deal with a public outing for now"

Brook shrugged, "It's about time I learned more about this stuff. Harry is constantly making
comments about the business world I don't understand, and I’m growing tired of my lack of
knowledge"

Looking around, Brooklyn realized maybe her friend had left out the more pressing matters
about inheriting a company. He'd certainly seemed very at ease at the prospect of one day
attaining one, but had never mentioned the expanse of responsibilities.

Perhaps he was still too young to be burdened with such things, the others their age who were
also in their position as well…but Brooklyn could no longer afford to distance herself from
this probable future. She had to catch up and learn all she’d missed in order to be as adequate
for the job as the others.

Stark Industries was no mere company, it was a fuel for society. Brook would be damned if
she failed here…or in SHIELD.

Unaware of her internal turmoil, Pepper guided them to the CEO's office for privacy, a wide
space that was more arranged for work than comfort. Instead of sitting behind the main desk,
Pepper guided them to a small couch area where papers were laid out for Stark to sign.

While the man read through the packets with a few mumbled complaints and scribbling
corrections, Pepper sat beside Brook, playing with the strands of her loose red hair, which the
assassin found she didn't mind all that much. With the guilt of killing someone, which under
normal circumstances, Brooklyn would gladly say was a deserved end…she would let the
woman hug her again if it meant she didn't look at the young teen with disappointment or
fear.

Now without any secretaries or wandering eyes their way, Pepper was able to speak freely.

"What do you think of this place?" she asked, a hint of nervousness buried so deep Brook
almost missed it. But it wasn’t nervousness at having Brooklyn so close.

The teen could only stare at her Stark Industries notepad in disbelief, running a finger back
and forth on the logo, "It's a lot more work than I originally thought"
Stark, with his nose still buried in document after document, actually snorted.

"I was seventeen when my dad died," her otets said causally, "so was around your age when
this empire was dropped on me, but I didn't inherit it until I was twenty-one. Even if you
pretend to Brave Heart your way through it, I can understand how overwhelming it can
seem"

Right, he'd lost his family young, but unlike her, Stark had inherited this whole thing during a
likely period of grief.

Brook gazed out the large window to her right, out into the sprawling city of Manhattan as
she said, "I'm sure your father would be pleased with what you've done with it. The reports
the staff gave me show the company has grown much under your leadership"

It wasn’t a compliment, Brook told herself. She had no reason to try and make Stark feel
better when his ego was already the size of a blimp balloon. Though that was true, the teen
was starting to realize that maybe his heart, the kindness and dedication to a greater and safer
future was probably just as large.

That’s why she’d said those words…even if she’d never admit a part of her soul felt a sense
of pride seeing all of this, knowing the man she was entrusting her future to was doing the
right thing. It gave her hope that maybe if she stuck to this long enough, the girl who’d
dumped a body down the sewers would cease to exist.

Ignoring Stark’s wide-eyed stare or the way the papers in his hands fumbled at the words,
Brook kept her gaze on the scribbled notes she’d no doubt go over tonight so that next time
she was brought here, there would be no need to explain or show her around.

It would be like she’d visited this place all her life.

Pepper hummed in agreement, "It's a lot of work, but it helps a lot of people. It's great that
you understand that already, not many teens can comprehend the responsibility needed to
handle so many things"

Brooklyn wasn't sure if she understood as of yet, but that didn't mean she didn't want to. Most
of this charitable stuff would go against her Red Room teachings, but she found herself
admiring it enough to want to truly comprehend it.

Selfishly, she also hoped it might help wipe some red off her ledger.

Content to oblige her curiosity, Pepper spent the next hour explaining some of the charitable
organizations of this company. When some of the staff brought a light dinner for the four of
them, Brooklyn listened intently over her cup of coffee as things like the Maria Stark
Foundation were explained.

Maria Stark was apparently Brooklyn's grandmother, at last putting a name to a blank face,
and it was through that foundation that the assassin learned a little more about her birth
family.
Because of the apparent kindness the woman once possessed, the Maria Stark Foundation led
by the company was set up in her honor, by her otets. It promoted affordable housing,
community centers, and other philanthropic gestures of the sort. It all stemmed from the fact
that her grandmother had been from a poor family, unlike her husband, and had known what
those less fortunate truly needed. People like who Brook used to be before Stark had found
her.

"It's what mom would've wanted, fought my dad on it for some time. In fact, I think my mom
spent more time in soup kitchens than with my old man" Stark said, signing off on another
packet.

Brooklyn noted the sadness in his eyes and the way his hand clutched the pen in hand tighter
than before. She found it intriguing, seeing what mourning a mother looked like…whereas
Brook had helped kill her own.

Though she now knew more about her grandmother, Brooklyn still had no clue what had
actually happened to her deceased grandparents. She’d never bothered to look it up as a child,
nor had it ever been mentioned in the news she’d seen.

But just as Brook avoided talking about missing parents with Peter, she held back her
question for Stark’s sake and instead asked to know more about other foundations.

Pepper too was eager to change the subject, quickly getting into some of the ones she'd taken
part in creating, like the Stark Relief Foundation for victims of Avenger-involved battles, and
the September Foundation to fund schools and young prodigies in their education. No doubt
something that Peter Parker would be taken into consideration for.

Now that she thought about it, it was hard imagining someone as sweet and childish as Peter
interning at a place like this. It was crazy to imagine seeing him around here with his Star
Wars shirt, while Brooklyn was meant to run the place.

If she were one to believe in fate, Brook might find comfort in the fact that she’d befriended
someone with ties to the company she would be in charge of one day. But concepts of destiny
and coincidences were not things assassins liked to believe in because it would mean
situations were not in their control, and that their skills did not dictate their fate. The fact that
such a silly thought had crossed her mind in the first place was already unusual.

By the time all the documents were completely signed and Brook had learned all she could
about the company for today, the clock had struck six.

"Common, Daphne," Tony said, standing from the couch with a groan, "It's a school night,
gotta get you back home. God, I sound like my mom..."

Happy, whose eyes had not left the monitor on his own small desk shouted back, "What is it
with you two weirdos? Brooklyn is giving out hugs and you care about bedtimes on a school
night. I'm starting to think you're a figment of my exhausted imagination"

Both Starks sent unplanned, yet coordinated glares his way.

Pepper discarded both their empty Starbucks cups and helped Brook ease up from their spot,
smoothing down the waves of the teen's hair and the wrinkles on her sleeves. It was then that
the girl noticed a small rip at the base of her shirt, one no doubt caused by the knife attack
earlier.

Doing her best to conceal the incriminating evidence on the new article of clothing, the girl
welcomed Pepper's embrace, doing her best to try to reciprocate it. All she'd managed was a
simple pat on the back again, but the woman seemed happy with the effort.

"Happy will pick you up tomorrow, and you don't need to pack clothes since Wanda and Nat
bought a few for you to have in the compound. Just bring the essentials for the weekend"
Pepper clarified with a bright smile.

She'd no doubt have to prepare that once she got back to her apartment, but since Happy was
picking her up...

Brooklyn was no expert in matters of family, but in American movies and shows she’d
caught glimpses of, the girl had noted a constant pattern of children asking their parents for
permission on things. At the time, she'd thought it stupid. The ex-assassin had raised and
taken care of herself almost all her life, it would be silly to ask permission to do something
after fighting for her freedom.

But...Brook was trying to be better, even after her mistake hours ago. Especially after that.

Hating the way her cheeks blushed and her heart pounded with reluctance, Brooklyn
addressed both Stark and Pepper who stood side by side before her.

"Actually, there is a football game tomorrow after school," Brook said, "My...my friends
asked me to go and I promised I would. I guess what I'm trying to say, regardless of how...I
mean... I guess I'm asking if I can go"

Both adults froze in place, looking at one another as if exchanging words in a secret language
Brook was not privy to.

It wasn't until they both grinned from ear to ear and Stark placed a few good pats on her
shoulder that he replied, "I never thought you'd want to go spend time with people. I certainly
never asked my parents if I could do anything, I just sort of did it. Guess you're a better kid
than I thought"

Brooklyn shouldn't care about his words, but a mix of happiness and sinking dread swirled in
her mind. Happiness because...because all he knew, she was a good kid in his eyes. An
unfamiliar slice of praise was just handed over to Brooklyn when her own mother had never
shown her any. Parental approval was foreign, but it was a pleasant feeling nonetheless.

Dread came into the mix when the ex-assassin realized he was wrong. She wasn't good in any
way, she'd just left a shredded body in the sewers of Queens! But she’d never do it again, and
she was determined to get to the point where if Stark ever said those words again, the dread
would not come.
Instead of arguing, the girl turned to Pepper, who looked like she was about to hug Brook
once again for some reason. Though Brooklyn had spent her entire life waiting for the
approval of others for almost everything, there was something about these two that made it
seem less of a necessary demand. But rather a gift.

"You're asking my permission too?" Pepper inquired, clutching Stark's hand like a lifeline.

"Well, yeah" the ex-assassin replied, confused as to why the distinction was needed until
Brook realized her own mistake. Permission was asked from parents, and Pepper was not yet
married to Stark and even if she were, she was not required to take on that role in Brooklyn’s
life.

Was that somehow offensive?

Brook began fearing she’d made a huge mistake when Pepper walked away…but she merely
went over to her desk and fetched a black box. Without a single word, the woman opened it
to reveal a small golden necklace containing a hanging pendant of what she could vaguely
recognize as the Brooklyn Bridge.

It wasn't until Pepper approached Brook that the teen realized it was for her.

"Tony and I bought this yesterday for you, but we didn't want to overwhelm you and had
hoped to give it to you in the future when you were more comfortable," Pepper said, moving
to secure it onto the teen's neck as she added, "I know you may not be ready to be close to us,
but know that you can talk to us about anything. That we will always be there for you"

Tony smiled in satisfaction, embracing Pepper in a side hug when she returned to his side
standing before Brooklyn.

"I know you think weapons and skills are what makes a person strong, but you need to
understand that family is power, kiddo. Remember that we fight for it, whatever it takes"

Brooklyn had no words. Not because such words went against all she’d been taught, but
because she realized that they wanted to be that family for her, needed her to understand that
such bonds were not treated lightly. That they mattered as much as they did to Brook.

The small delicate necklace around her neck was not an unpleasant weight, if anything, it felt
nice to have something from them. The fact that they had gone through the trouble of getting
a gift for her in the first place...

Glancing down at the symbol of her birth name resting between her collarbones, Brooklyn
whispered back as if testing out the words for herself, "Whatever it takes"

Both adults beamed, then Pepper hit a button on the side table for the car to be brought out to
the front, and apparently for Brooklyn's coat to be brought back as well.

"So I can go to the game tomorrow?" the teen asked nervously, earning a nod from both
adults. Apparently, there was something about her going to a simple game that they were very
much happy with. Brook didn't dare ask what it could be.
Then to further her surprise, Pepper replied in decent Russian, "Poveselis' "

Have fun.

"I've been practicing Russian as well, I hope I said that right," the woman added nervously,
snuggling onto Stark's side who beamed at the words.

It stunned her for a second to realize both Stark and Pepper were learning Russian for her
benefit. The effort they put into learning something for her sake made Brook’s heart clutch.

She could only nod in assurance, even when Pepper’s accent had been a little off. But just the
fact that they were trying, confirmed that Brook's efforts to get closer to them were perhaps
not in vain. Maybe they too were trying to go out of their comfort zone to make this thing
work, this was only confirmation that they were putting in as much effort as she was even
when she hadn’t asked that of them.

Back at his work table, Happy yelled, "I'll pick you up at the front of the school then. If
you're a minute late, I'm leaving you"

Of course, at least Happy was still the same as always.

It wasn't until Brooklyn and Stark got back in the yellow Audi, listening to music of Brook's
choosing, that her otets let it slip that Happy had also helped pick out the necklace. He had
been very passionate about picking the right one actually.

Oh, how she'd use that against him one day...

After a rather awkward goodbye at the front gates of her apartment an hour later, Brooklyn
carefully fetched her still-slashed backpack with care as she remained in her seat…because
there was something else she wanted to say.

Clutching the Stark Industries pad in hand, the girl wanted to fool herself into thinking that
maybe her kill earlier was just a small slip-up, it had to be if she was going to follow Tony
Stark's legacy. She’d realized as much on the car ride back, it was why before she exited the
car out into the darkened streets that Brook told her otets, "I hope I can learn to run the
company as well as you did. Just don't let the compliment get to your head, you're still an
idiot"

Stark smirked nonetheless.

"You'll see my greatness in due time," he replied, "But for the record, I think that in time you
might do well with it. Unlike me, you seem to have an actual interest in the company at such
a young age"

Brook quirked a brow in question and dared to ask, "You don't think I'm secretly trying to
take over your company for the Red Room?"

The man shook his head, "Not anymore. Never again"

Stark had no idea how much those words mean to her, more so than any other kind thing he'd
said to her. It would be a reassurance for her future goal for sure.

The girl nodded, then exited the sports car with a concealed smile that only widened when
Stark yelled out into the darkness of the night, "There better not be any boyfriends at that
football game! I know school games are just an excuse for couples to hook up, don’t think
you can fool me, kid!"

After unlocking the gate, Brook turned back towards the car under the streetlight and dared a
teasing smirk, "Not for this game, Stark"

Before Stark could question any future games as he clearly wanted to, the assassin
disappeared inside the complex. Then, once in the safety of her apartment, Brooklyn even
sent both Pepper and her otets a text to be careful on their way back to the Compound, which
they had answered with reassurances and glee.

Brook had no clue why she’d even bothered to pull out her phone, it just felt right, and the
worry for them was genuinely there in the back of her mind. Especially as she placed the
Stark Industries notepad on an old shoe box under her bed, the place for her most treasured
belongings.

The company would no doubt become one of them, but the people within were far more
valuable. Pepper, Happy, and even her father.

Once homework was finished, small essentials were packed, and dinner was eaten, Brooklyn
went ahead and read the various messages from her friends that she’d missed, most
consisting of funny photos and videos from the Decathlon meeting. They had sent a tired and
showered Brook to bed with a smile, clutching the golden bridge resting on her neck.

Her kill from earlier forgotten, the assassin pondered on the words of her otets as FRIDAY
turned off the lights.

Family is power and we fight for it, whatever it takes.

Though not entirely convinced of the idea of a family just yet...maybe it could become a
source of power one day. Having the Avengers and Pepper as close confidants was no longer
as impossible as she'd thought after all. Unknowingly, she’d already begun relying on them,
leaning on the support they provided. In fact, she even looked forward to seeing them all
tomorrow, and it wasn't for the food.

It still went against everything she’d been taught, but some growing part of Brook was
already set on fighting for it, for them, whatever it takes.
 Football & Criminals

Brooklyn POV-

Game day was no joke at Midtown High, far from it actually.

Though not entirely sure what to expect, Brooklyn had expected little of what today had to
offer. She’d imagined her friends gathered on a lonely bench amidst the wisps of shy fall
winds as a game progressed down on the field. That would’ve been perfectly fine considering
she was there to spend time with her friends, but she'd underestimated the importance events
such as these had not only on her school, but as a whole.

Peter had shown up to her door, his usual collared shirt and cozy sweater being replaced by a
navy blue sweater with the school logo, happily waving around a small plastic bag full of
rusty and weathered coins to purchase treats during the game later on. Despite normally being
a quiet boy, that morning Peter had been blistering about his excitement, going as far as to
say he was certain Brook would have a good time.

While Brooklyn had settled for a warmer set of clothes for the chilly day, she'd still worn a
gold colored shirt and blue jeans, an outfit cleared by the group chat minutes ago (because
apparently one was supposed to dress thematically for these sorts of events). Tanya, the
fashionista, had even suggested Brook wear high waisted jeans more often, saying they
brought out her figure more.

Whatever that meant.

The only part of her outfit Brook had been proud of wearing was the hanging necklace of the
Brooklyn bridge, even Peter and Harry had mentioned was a great gift. It had no label trying
her to the Stark name, but somehow, the simple pendant made her feel more like she was part
of it. No one else would be able to tell the significance at first glance, which somehow made
it even more precious in its discreteness.

Much to her surprise, Harry had been almost unrecognizable at first glance waiting for her
and Peter at the front gates. He was normally a boy who wore casual pants but impeccable
and expensive shirts or sweaters. Today though, he'd rushed towards them in the dirtiest
football shirt Brook had ever seen.

The blue and yellow jersey was very much filled with dirt stains, but the words Midtown
High and the number 45 were still visible.

"It's my lucky number" Harry said as a way of greeting, then threw an identical jersey her
way, one that was thankfully not stained in the least. It even smelled like citrus detergent.

"I thought you were joking about me having to wear this," Brooklyn said, but still set her
recently stitched backpack down and reluctantly took off her jacket to put said jersey over her
t-shirt. It was a little big on her, but the jacket she wore concealed it for the most part.
To say Harry was elated would be an understatement, his cheers might’ve succeeded in
waking up the entirety of the apartment complex.

Peter had found it amusing at least, saying, "Harry takes football very seriously"

That he did.

The whole walk had been spent with Harry explaining the sport's complexities to Brooklyn,
even the old lady and grandchildren who they reserved seats on the metro had some things to
add on the subject. Soon enough, all the commuters near the teens had added their inputs on
the various fouls and rules of the popular game. Strangers that did not realize Brooklyn Stark
and Harry Osborn were among them, hiding behind shades.

They had even wished Harry good luck on his game when they reached their station despite
not knowing anything about him other than his enthusiasm for the sport.

Once they reached the school gates, it had become apparent that an even more chaotic scene
than the enthusiasm she’d experienced on the ride here would await her..

Before classes could even begin, every student had gathered in the large football field out of
their own volition, surrounding the football team (to which Harry got dragged to as soon as
they made it to the school threshold) and showering them with cheers and chanting some
song about beating the enemy.

Someone had even brought a plush of the opposite team's mascot, a little wolverine with a
green jersey. The football team had tossed it around carelessly until the first bell rang across
the field, at which point Peter, Brook, MJ, Ned, and Tanya had made their way to their
lockers and respective classes surrounded by hyped up students.

The amount of supportive handmade posters and decorations around school were so grand
that Brooklyn could've mistaken this day as some sort of holiday. Even the teachers showed
their support for today’s game with themed clothing and even wished the players in each
class good luck without fail.

During the passing period between classes, the hallways were like a sea of golden-yellow and
midnight-blue as every student showed their support by wearing the school's colors. With her
morning outfit and Harry's jersey, Brooklyn fit right in for once.

To her dismay…multiple people in her classes had approached her, not to try and be her
friend, but to ask Brook ridiculous questions in regards to the borrowed jersey.

"Are you and Harry dating?" a group of girls in history had asked, almost sending Brooklyn
into a fit of laughs. After being asked that a few more times, the instinct to chuckle was gone,
but the ex-assassin still wondered why that kind of baseless inference would be asked so
often.

Was the sharing of clothing that intimate? She sure hoped not, otherwise the jacket Brook had
gifted Peter might hold more meaning than she'd bargained for. Meanings she refused to
acknowledge or was even ready for.
At lunch time, like a saving grace, Tanya had assured Brook people were just being stupid
and there was nothing to worry about. Their quaint little lunch group settled on the usual
table hidden in a cozy corner of the cafeteria, also assured Brook that it was just the ‘rich kids
dating fantasy’ getting out of control. Nosy students grasping at straws for something to
gossip about.

Resigned to her fate of being gossiped about and stared at for the rest of the school day,
Brooklyn changed the subject by shifting to face Tanya after swallowing bits of her soggy
fries, "I thought you were cheering today?"

Unlike the other cheerleaders situated on the glamorous raised table on the other side of the
cafeteria, Tanya was not in uniform. In fact, her warmer layers were not even school colored
unless one paid close attention to the golden stitching or hidden blue pins in her hair..

Tanya did not seem upset in the least by Brook’s own nosiness, she actually appeared happy
about her observation, especially when MJ showed concern as well by going as far as putting
down her book for the day, a thick volume whose spine read; A Writer's Block.

"Peter mentioned this was your first football game" Tanya said, "I thought it would be nice if
I spent it with you guys on the bleachers, silly. As your best friend I thought I should be there
with you!"

"Tanya, you didn't have to do that" Brook argued as passively as she could, "Won't you get in
trouble for not cheering? Isn't that…like being in the decathlon? A commitment"

The girl bellowed out in laughter, "Of course not! I asked for permission to sit out his game
and since I've never missed one, they let it slide. It's not like it's a job!"

That had settled that matter, which only made Tanya almost faint when MJ had praised her
for being such a good friend, even offering to buy her something to eat during the game.
Something told Brooklyn that Tanya was seriously considering missing more games from
now on. Harry would've certainly teased about it if it weren't for Brook's subtle kick under
the table.

Tanya had done something for Brook’s benefit, it was only fair she returned the favor.

Before leaving for the last two classes of the day, the group had taken quite a few group
photos showing their school pride. Though Brooklyn wasn't exactly the most camera-happy
girl in the world, she did not despise the experience as much as she would’ve weeks ago,
especially when Ned promised to print a few of them out for everyone to have.

Brooklyn already had a few photos gifted from Peter that rested beautifully atop her elegant
fireplace, but she did not mind the idea of having more photos of her friends to decorate her
home. It may be a weakness in the long run, but Brook was unwilling to go back to her
solitary days and photos served as lovely reminders that she was in fact no longer alone.

At some point during the snapping of memories, Harry's team had been drawn in by the
phone flashes and they situated themselves around the group to join in the fun. Of course,
Flash's friends hadn't joined that particular activity, instead glaring at their teammates across
the room from where they surrounded Flash.

Peter's band mates had also passed by on their way to throw their trash away, and had been
invited by Ned and Peter to take photos with them as well. Because Peter was part of the
school band, something he had failed to mention prior to this day. To her surprise, his band
acquaintances were a pleasant bunch, even when they had greeted Brooklyn rather shyly as if
mystified to have her attention.

When they mentioned something about a performance to Peter, she'd found out the school
band played during halftime of every football game at home. It would be a shame,
considering she'd have to leave a little bit after halftime now that Happy would be the one
picking her up.

Brook would admit it to no one, but she would’ve liked to see the entirety of Peter’s apparent
hidden talents. Not because she liked him or anything, just because he was her friend and she
always figured he had to be good at other things other than academics or being a sandwich
connoisseur.

By the time school ended, not many people bothered hanging around the halls like usual.
Brooklyn had barely placed her stuff inside the locker still devoid of decorations she called
her own, when the masses quite literally dragged her and her friends outside like an
avalanche.

It actually took her a second to realize the students weren’t fleeing from something.

The brief moment of panic had not been for naught, for she got to witness a surprisingly
beautiful sight afterwards. Every single student at Midtown gladly gathered on the field to
dance around while the teams practiced and warmed up. Some of the teachers had also
decided to stick around for the game, a surprising sight especially from the usually
unenthusiastic Mr. Willson.

Brook had been dragged over to the area under the bleachers by her friends. That's where
most students were dancing around to the loud music and passing around soda cans despite
the chill of the afternoon.

No one treated her as an heiress among them, but rather a student of the same school, as one
of them. And though she despised crowds for the amount of variables present for an attack,
Brook had not minded the merry sights of students letting loose and singing their hearts out,
all straying from their normal cluster of friends to celebrate with all others despite their
differences.

Today they were all united under one goal, the defeat of the other school.

It was amongst the celebrations that Brooklyn met two other members of the decathlon team.
First was Betty Brant, the blonde girl who had provided Brook with a very warm welcome to
the school now that she was given the change. She'd also been the one to provide the group of
Brook’s friends with some face paint, which had actually faded by the time the game had
actually started thanks to all the dancing they did beforehand.
Brook was not much of a dancer, unless it was ballet and some more...formal dances. Yet
Peter’s doe eyes and Tanya’s insistent begging dragged her along with the others to the
makeshift dance floor, and despite the fact that her friends had merely swayed around to the
beats of the music, they happily included Brook amongst their merry circle of joy. The ex-
assassin could do nothing more than follow along, found there was a certain beauty in dance
steps that were not perfectly poised and executed.

This kind of dancing would’ve gotten her killed back in the Red Room, but here, it felt like
she was floating on air surrounded by smiles of those she’d grown to reluctantly trust.

Surprisingly, the ever so shy Peter Parker had danced as well, rather awkwardly, but he'd
spun her around a few times. When their hands connected....it was not unpleasant. In fact,
she'd quite enjoyed spinning around with Peter Parker, basking in his careless laughter and
warm hands.

But that wasn't important in the slightest, nor was it a memorable experience.

The second decathlon member the Stark had met was around the time the students were
making their way up to the bleachers for the game. Cindy Moon, a young girl of asian
descent with a calming attitude, was also relatively friendly. She had welcomed Brook to the
team and even offered to stay after school should she ever need to catch up on anything.

It had been a kind sentiment, one Brooklyn had made sure had no ulterior motives before
reluctantly thanking the girl for it. It seemed that for the most part, the Decathlon team would
be filled with decent people...excluding Flash who was currently on the lower bleachers
yelling at his football friends not to lose the game rather ardently. Yet the experience of
meeting the girls had certainly eased Brooklyn's last doubts about the team for sure.

Once everyone was in place an hour or so later, and the opposite team's visitors were situated
on the bleachers on the other side of the field, the giant lights around the area lit up the space,
revealing both teams in full 'armor' and ready to engage in their makeshift battle.

Unlike the few times Brooklyn had witnessed the sport on TV, this game was actually trilling
to observe. Maybe it was the fact that the cheerful ambiance was contagious, or that Harry
was leading the representatives of her school, but the girl found herself cheering along with
the crowd and her friends after a while.

Peter hadn't been wrong when he said Harry took football very seriously. It was like he was a
completely different person on the field, leading his team into a very successful unit. Simple
gestures and looks between teammates could determine the play of a run in seconds.

Perhaps that's why Fury valued teamwork so much. The wonders the team were able to
achieve together were impressive, enough that even the score board was in agreement. By the
quarter, the Midtown team had scored two touchdowns and a successful field goal.

It was then that her friends went in search for some food for everyone, and it wasn't long
before the teens were consuming sugary sweets. Along with everyone’s little clusters of
collected coins, she’d contributed the last bills of the lunch money Stark had tried to sneakily
slip into her backpack when he’d dropped her off after their visit to Stark Industries. The
group of teens had treated the dollar bills like golden bars, which had allowed them to afford
a ‘glamorous meal’ of sweets for once.

Once the game resumed, she realized that maybe it was the music or the overall excitement
across the lively bleachers, but Brook was most certain that Bronx High school didn't stand a
chance against them, not with Harry's superior calls and passes at least.

Call after successful call, Brooklyn's voice got louder and her clapping increased.

When the last play before halftime began, Harry and his team were making a last effort at a
touchdown, only a few yards away from the end of the field.

It surprised Brooklyn how nervous she got, enough so that she held onto Peter's and Tanya's
hands as they too locked hands with the rest of their little group at the front of the bleachers.

Both schools watched intently and quietly as the ball was passed to Harry, and in seconds, the
oval shaped ball flew across the cold air, almost hidden by the darkness of the sky.

Then a catch from one of Harry's sharpest teammates…and the crowd went wild.

The ex-assassin couldn't recall a time in her life when she'd actually jumped around in place
or screamed so loud in her life. She also hadn't expected to let that joyous rush overcome her
so much that she accepted hugs from Tanya, Ned, and Peter.

Still locked in Peter's embrace, a part of Brooklyn's mind went into some sort of mild panic.
She was so close to him, enough that she could smell his lavender shampoo and the distinct
aroma of the lab room bunsen burners he always seemed to carry with him. Despite the
boisterous crowds around the pair, Brooklyn dared to look up into his bright brown eyes to
see he was already staring down at her, eyes wide but with that same smile that made her
feel...that strange feeling when Peter was around.

Brook shyly backed away from the embrace, apologizing for the intrusion, which Peter swore
he did not mind especially when MJ (who was visibly less excited than the crowds) hugged
him as well. To her credit,Tanya did not display any signs of visible sadness at seeing the girl
of her affections exchanging physical contact with Peter. Her friend had simply interlocked
their arms together while gazing down at Brook with a knowing stare as both beheld the
exchange between their two friends.

Luckily, with halftime came the performance of the band.

Knowing Brook would have to leave soon, Peter had promised to see Brook bright and early
on Monday and left to go fetch his instrument after one last salute her way.

It occurred to Brook that this would be the first time in a week where she would not see him
in the morning to come since she'd be at the Compound. Even after just a week, some part of
her felt as if she'd known him for far longer, enough that his absence would be a most noted
displeasure. But he'd practically promised to see her again on Monday, and Brooklyn would
return from the Compound as well. There was no real problem then, her mind was just being
unreasonable.
As the crowd congratulated the football team who began integrating itself amongst the
bleacher area instead of resting, Harry made a beeline straight to the group, receiving a few
pats on the back and even some cheek kisses on his way over to them.

Helmet off, the brown haired teen shook his damp hair like a dog as he pumped fists with
Ned. Even when Tanya began to tease the boy with some silly remarks about being able to do
better, Harry didn't seem the least bit bothered, not as he embraced a reluctant MJ and her
book, then threw an arm around Brook's shoulders.

"How did you like the game, Stark?" Harry asked, trying to not seem winded despite his
flushed cheeks and panting breaths.

The girl looked around the lip up field, the band playing on the grass where Peter was, and
the friends around her.

"Not bad, Osborn. Not bad at all" she replied, handing over the remaining of her chocolate
bar to the tried quarterback. Harry gladly received it, then pinched the jersey under
Brooklyn's sweater.

"I think you're gonna have to wear my jersey to every game, brings good luck don't you
think?"

Before Brook could argue the impossibility of a person wearing an item of clothing as
probable good luck, the phone in her pocket vibrated violently enough that it snagged the
girl's attention.

On the small screen was a simple message from the one and only Grumpy.

You have five minutes before I head back. Even if you threaten to kill me I'll still leave.

Remembering Stark's words about the man's involvement in picking out her necklace,
Brooklyn didn't feel the least bit threatened. Regardless, she still bid her friends farewell, and
wished Harry luck for the second half of the game.

They had all offered to walk her out, but Brook didn't want them to miss Peter's performance,
so she accepted their offers to text during the weekend, and even went as far as to wish them
a good night before making beeline through the crowds towards the main building of the
school despite the whispers of her last name as she passed through the masses.

Something about that was bothering her less and less nowadays. Almost like she was getting
used to it.

It was unusual to see the inside of the school so empty, quiet enough that every step of hers
carried a long echo in the lit up halls. Though Brooklyn rarely found anything 'spooky', there
was something about the emptiness of the place that made that feeling of being watched
escalate.

Such feelings only made Brook keep a hand near her Stark watch, she'd even taken the ear
muffs off that Tanya had insisted she borrow to be better aware of her surroundings of the
lonely space in case of an attack. It was an assassin's instinct to always expect the worst after
all.

Thankfully, the only people she'd found along the halls were students running around for
more supplies for the food stands and some very loud couples in janitor's closets having a....a
very intimate time together. No doubt what Stark had been talking about yesterday.

Once she'd retrieved her backpack from her locker as well as the spare crimson coat in there,
convinced that's all she needed for her first weekend at the compound as a true Stark, the girl
avoided the…busy and noisy dark corners of the hallways as she exited the building.

Happy had given her five minutes to meet him, and when she'd frantically asked FRIDAY for
the time while stumbling out the school gates, it had been a total of seven minutes even at her
fast pace.

Yet, Happy's black Audi remained parked outside with the headlights on.

Brook had to fight a smirk as she opened the back seat to throw in her belongings before
making it to the passenger’s spot she hadn't seen in a long time.

Like always, Happy’s Downton Abbey was the first to greet her along with the warmth of the
heated up seats, that and his usual scowl. It did lessen slightly when he beheld her exhausted
form as she fixed the lapels of her coat to hide the football jersey underneath.

"I hope that game was worth it, you're late" Happy said, throwing a greasy brown bag her
way.

When it landed on her lap, warmth seeped out of the bag, and the unmistakable smell of
burgers filled her senses. Inside the rumpled package were three cheeseburgers, fries, and on
the cup holder between the two was a plastic cup with some kind of soda.

"You actually got me food?" she asked, earning a huff of annoyance from her companion
despite the fact that he’d gone out of his way to get Brook sustenance she hadn’t asked for
but was suddenly very pleased to have.

"Tony mentioned you might be hungry after being in school for so long, so I was SENT to
get you food" he explained, "Remembering your little outburst at the Compound when you
went out to devour cheeseburgers in the rain, I decided that was my best bet. I swear, you and
Tony have the same favorite food for a reason"

They did? That she hadn’t known, likely because Brooklyn hadn’t yet found the strength to
ask personal questions to her otets. Or so she’d consider once she wasn’t starving from all
that cheering and celebrating.

Perhaps Happy had been expecting her to complain, but Brook was already too busy biting
into the greasy goodness that by the time he turned to face her, half of one of the burgers was
stuffed inside her cheeks. Happy actually smirked at the sight, and with a head shake, started
the engine and pulled up to the relatively empty streets of Queens.
It seemed that buying her food was as much kindness as Happy would show today, because
this time, he did not let her pick the music for their three hour drive. In fact, Happy didn't
bother speaking until they left the main city limits, turning to the long expansive road that
would lead them to the Avengers Compound. By that time, all her burgers and half of her
delicious fries were long gone.

It had been ten minutes since she'd run out of ketchup....

"So, was the game actually good? Sam thought you might turn into the Hulk if Midtown
began to lose, maybe tackle a few innocent and extremely muscular football players along the
way" Happy said, keeping his eyes on the dark road ahead.

Brooklyn might've been offended by that assumption, but she realized if the events of the
game would’ve hurt her friends feelings, she would've done just that for Harry's sake.

"Are the Avengers always informed of every little thing about my life? They knew about my
detention, and now they know about the game. It flatters me that you lot have nothing better
to do than to talk about me, but maybe you guys should find a few hobbies instead"

Happy chuckled amusedly at that, enough so to turn the music down slightly to continue the
conversation. As if it had peaked his interest.

"Give them a break. You are Tony's only kid, everyone wants to be involved in making sure
you’re happy. Probably even more so since you're such an unconventional child"

Brooklyn dropped a few fries into her mouth, not caring about her Red Room installed
manners as she replied with a full mouth, "Cause I'm an assassin?"

"No, it's because of your charming personality, of course" Happy sassed back.

Perhaps things between her and Happy would always remain like this, an endless cycle of
annoying one another. Brooklyn wouldn't mind if that was the case, there was something
comfortable about just being able to say things she felt like without fearing she'd hurt
someone's feelings with her inexperience interacting with other people.

Happy could dish it right back after all.

What was far from comfortable was the harsh swerve Happy suddenly took off the road when
a group of pedestrians appeared on the road.

The sound of screeching rubber on the road and the bite of her seatbelt against her shoulder
blades pulled her out of her leisurely thinking. Brooklyn barely had time to set down her
drink and hold on to the dash as the Audi made it out the pavement and onto the grassy fields
on its edge.

Brook’s heart was pounding, not due to the shock of what had just occurred, but because any
instance that threatened her life activated her old instincts. Only today that was not the case,
instead of looking around for any sign of foul play and searching for ways to escape in case
of an attack, she turned to the dipped side of the car to check up on Happy first.
He was bleeding, and his groans of discomfort and pain told her something was most
definitely wrong with him. Unbuckling her seatbelt, Brooklyn had to keep balance with a foot
on the dash and the other on the arm of her seat to not tumble sideways.

She must’ve hit herself somewhere when the car derailed off the road, because a headache
was starting to come on as she tried to slowly ease her way towards Happy amidst the shards
of glass and food. Still, its disorienting shock couldn’t compare to the one Brook felt when
the car door behind her was opened, and a hand reached out to drag the assassin out.

Brooklyn was about to tell off the stupid pedestrians that not only walked in the middle of the
road at night unannounced, but also because they bothered to get her out when Happy was
still inside. He was the one that needed help damn it!

That rush of anger faded once she saw Happy being dragged out harshly through the door,
and her relief that he was at least conscious was short lived when she noticed his features
were those of pure terror as he yelled out her name, struggling against the hold on his arms.

Looking up at the people dragging her out of the car, Brooklyn cursed herself for not
scanning the area sooner as she should’ve done. Those holding onto her were not typical
citizens, not the panicked family she’d been expecting, but rather two extremely buff males
whose features she couldn’t catch in the darkness.

These weren't careless pedestrians, and this wasn't an accident.

The large hands that had dragged the ex-assassin onto a lit section of the empty and desolate
road, their hold strong and firm as they practically threw her on the harsh asphalt by the
nearest lamp post. Deciding to listen to her instincts now, Brooklyn feigned the ache in her
head was worse than it actually was, pretending to be weak and afraid, confused and
defenseless.

She had no idea who these enemies were, if they were after Brooklyn Stark or had been sent
by someone who wanted the heir of the Red Room. This could very well be a second and
better planned attack from those who had hired that assassin in the alleyway days ago.

If she were the only one here, Brooklyn might’ve attempted to fight her way out of this
regardless of what their intentions were, but she wasn’t alone…and for the first time in her
life she treated that as a priority.

In seconds, Happy was thrown just as violently by her side, his gun and phone confiscated by
the man who'd apprehended him, even Brook's had been taken as well. For all their
differences and banter, she couldn’t forget Happy was the man who’d served as her chauffeur,
who’d carefully chosen the golden necklace still resting along her collarbones. He was hurt,
yet he still crawled over to her side, reaching for her as if he’d push her behind him.

Even with the blood cascading down his face and onto his tux, Happy was still intent on
protecting her, Brook realized. The thought alone had her reaching over for his blooding hand
against the cold street, squeezing it tight in what she hoped was reassurance.
Despite the fact that it likely unsettled him to see her like this, Brooklyn did not ease up on
her act of weakness, not when their attackers were still watching from within the nearby
shadows of the streetlight’s limits.

When she dared to look up from her place on the ground, Brook almost cursed when she
realized the three men who’d done all of this were now pointing glowing weapons their way.
If she hadn't stared at so many designs and blueprints of those weapons in the past few days,
she might've been very confused.

But those were unmistakable alien weapons, and the severity of this situation had just
become a reality.

Vo imya lyubvi Gospoda. For the love of god.

"If you guys are part of a new division of the Queens Police, I want to clarify we were not
speeding at all," Brook spat, not bothering with the helpless act any longer, wiping the small
rocks embedded in her hands.

The circumstances had changed after all.

Despite her attempt at humor, no one seemed amused. In fact, one of the masked men drew
his glowing weapon closer to Brooklyn's skull despite Happy's harsh shouts to leave her
alone.

It wouldn’t have been the first time a weapon was placed against her head, the fear of such
sights had long been evaporated from her mind in her time as Ivan’s heiress. The sudden
sinking of her stomach was not because of it, but because that weapon could easily be turned
against Happy, who might not fare as well in his current condition if he took a shot for her.

Happy may be Head of Security, a general pain in her ass, but right now she needed to protect
him. It would be a first, worrying about another in the midst of a battle…but Brooklyn would
not put his life in danger. All of her plans revolved around that idea. To protect instead of
survive.

Unfortunately, she also couldn't talk to him without being overheard. She couldn't tell him
that she’d been baiting the assailants on purpose and that his trying to shield her body behind
his was not doing her poorly patched up plan any favors.

"The police will think you were speeding once we're done here, Stark. But your precious dad
will know what did this, that it was us who avenged the crew he captured" the man who held
the glowing weapon against her head said, smirk barely visible amongst the darkness.

Now that gave her something to work with. His accent was American, meaning it was
unlikely he had been hired by an outside source. No Russian would trust an American to do
their dirty work after all. His voice, though strong and commanding, still carried a hint of
uncertainty…of fear.

Plus, he’d let slip what their motive was. These guys were trying to get revenge for the
unsuccessful attack on the compound...those that Brook had helped defeat had been part of
their gang. That meant that they’d either do as they said they would and kill them to send a
message to the Avengers, or they’d use her for ransom to get their team back from SHIELD’s
questioning team.

From the conviction in the stranger’s voice, Brook was more certain she’d end up as roadkill
beside Happy. This group must not be very smart to think of using Stark’s daughter for
ransom, which meant they were likely an underground gang of little power but far too much
ambition to become known criminals. They’d dared to attack the Avengers Compound after
all.

Still, why was it that suddenly everyone wanted Brooklyn dead. This was the second time in
two days that her life had been put in peril…and it was starting to really annoy her.

Unaware of the plans Brook was formulating in her mind, Happy grumbled, "If you call Mr.
Stark, he'll settle this matter without having to kill anyone", only succeeding in receiving a
harsh kick to the gut Brook did not have time to block.

Hearing his wheezing breaths, beholding his pained face was not sitting well with Brooklyn
at all. It may go against everything Brooklyn had been taught in her youth, but she couldn't
let Happy die, not like this. Not here.

"This isn't about money. This debt can only be paid with blood" another of the criminals said,
voice unhinged and carefree. Her assumptions that the tall stranger was likely insane were
segmented when he began happily twirling around in the darkness with his glowing weapon
in hand, accidentally shooting a few trees that appeared to shrink into themselves with each
blast.

It was almost like the trees caved into themselves, and then….nothing. She was definitely not
gonna wait and see how that worked for a human.

As subtle as she could, Brook shifted so that her hands were hidden behind Happy’s body,
making it look like she was attempting to at least get him into a sitting position. Out of the
sight of those pointing their weapons her way, Brooklyn made quick work of taking off her
Stark watch, and in a move that seemed to be of nothing more than comfort, she reached out
for Happy's hand.

Even when Happy was hurt, he still shot her a frown as if he thought the move was odd, but
thankfully took her hand anyway.

While the men laughed at what they thought to be the last breathing moments for Brooklyn
Stark and her companion, the girl saw Happy's eyes widen when he felt the cold bite of the
metal between their hands.

As softly as she could, as if she were saying her last goodbyes, Brook whispered, "Run to the
car, press the screen twice, then shoot when you can"

Happy did not seem pleased with that idea at all.

"Are you out of your mind! They took our phones and we can't take them on ourselves" he
whispered back, clutching her hand a little tighter as he did. His blood began to transfer onto
her fingers, dripping onto the cold asphalt underneath them.

Brook fought the urge to groan in annoyance, these men would get impatient soon, there was
no time for arguments. A plan had formulated in her mind and Brooklyn was set on making it
work…but that would depend entirely on Happy’s ability to stand, and if he had enough trust
in her to do as she said.

Considering how she’d treated him and what her files detailed, she’d be surprised if he even
bothered to listen. But it was the only way to try and get him out unharmed, and despite being
an assassin who didn’t much care for taking changes…this was one she was willing to risk.

Perhaps delivered a bit too harshly, Brook spat back, "You know what I am, let me do what I
do best. It's the only way"

A hand then grabbed onto Brook's loose auburn hair, pulling her back harshly enough that
she let go of Happy's hand to try and ease the strain on her scalp. Giving one last sharp look
towards an angered yet injured Happy, the girl decided to put the plan in motion.

When she looked back, Brook almost rolled her eyes in displeasure when she noticed it was
the most built of the three that got a hold of her, the psychopath and silent statue watching
intently as one of the man’s arms wrapped across her middle to keep her pinned against body.

Unfortunately, he did not have any other hand weapons within his coat for her to steal.

"Any last words you want us to tell dear old dad?" the man whispered in her ear, slowly and
teasingly as he caressed her cheek with the alien weapon whose blue hues almost had her
closing her eyes from discomfort. In contrast to the freezing temperatures outside, the
weapon was warm, almost enough to burn.

Praying that Happy actually did as he was told, the girl replied, "Actually, yes"

The other two men flanking them laughed, keeping their weapons pointed towards Happy but
their gazes were locked on her still form.

"What might those words be, little heiress? A useless plea to save you?" the criminal
whispered back against her ear.

“I would say to tell him something snarky for me, but you won’t get the chance” Brook said,
just as she used the heel of her sneakers to come down on the guy's ankle. Luckily, Brooklyn
had worn some sturdy shoes because the man felt the blow harshly and immediately let go of
her hair.

If there was one thing Brook knew about people who performed sloppy ambushes, it was that
they were oftentimes more scared than they let on. Aside from her group of friends and the
Avengers (as Happy had informed her) no one else knew Brook would leave the game at half
time. She knew no one from school would’ve betrayed her, mostly because they couldn't,
considering none of them knew the exact route Happy took towards the Compound. As for
the Avengers, as much as she hated to admit it, Stark trusted them with his life over and over
and from what she had seen with her own eyes, they were incapable of betraying her.

Meaning the criminals had followed them since she unexpectedly left the game early, ruining
whatever plan they’d had previously to try and kidnap her. They’d likely driven ahead
through the wilderness once they saw the straight path they’d take to the Compound and
began their makeshift plan then. The only danger their posed were their alien tools, so if she
separated weapon from man, the battle was as good as won.

Not having all the variables of a plan was troubling to the mind, enough so that some tended
to get very trigger happy when something went wrong. Which is why as soon as her hair was
released, Brooklyn didn't bother going in for a second attack, she just dropped low to the
ground and watched the two lackeys fire where she'd once stood, only to shoot their
companion straight in the chest.

A gust of frosty wind passed amidst the silence, the shock of what had been done.

As expected, the sight of one of these weapons being used was not a pretty one. Now
standing under the light of the lamp post, Brook got a front row seat as the man's body
changed… seemingly vanishing of all color. His dark skin turned into an ash-like shade as his
bones cracked and broke all around his body. It was as if he was being folded to fit in a small
space because his body began shrinking towards his torso.

The criminal was clearly in immense pain, but he still had enough mind to try and get to her
for a last blow despite it all. Sprawled on the floor, Brooklyn barely caught his wrists to hold
him back from strangling her, and she beheld as—like the rest of his body atop her—the
bones of his hand crumbled as well.

If that wasn't enough, his skin grew hot to the touch suddenly, too hot. Brook barely managed
to push him away so he collapsed a few feet away near where his two stunned comrades
stood. Like them, the teen watched in mild horror as the man screamed aloud enough to scare
massive flocks of nearby birds onto the night sky, listened as his companions began
screaming profanities of their own as they witnessed the man turn into nothing more than a
burning pile of ashes.

She had almost expected his body to shrink as the trees had, but it seemed that whatever these
weapons were and how they worked, they were far more dangerous than she’d anticipated.
She'd literally just watched a man burn to death, turn to nothing more than bones and ashes.

Though some part of Brook’s brain wanted to keep her gaze on the deceased body to try and
make sense of what she’d witnessed, she knew the two other men would snap out of their
shock in no time, this time more keen on killing her.

So she sprung to her feet ignoring the mild aches across her body, and as fast as she could,
round kicked the glowing guns out of the men's hands. The grievances across their faces
shifted to pure undiluted anger despite the fact that they’d been the ones to kill their own ally.
As they threw sloppy punches her way, amongst her evasion of blows, Brooklyn spared a
glance behind her and almost sighed in relief when she realized Happy WAS heading towards
the car, Stark glove adjusted on his hand.
That would keep him safe at least.

"Happy! Catch!" Brook yelled and just as her companion turned around, she threw the
SHIELD pager from her coat pocket straight into his hold. The one the criminals had deemed
a useless makeup artifact when they’d searched her.

If it wasn't for that football game from earlier, Brook might've deigned to take care of this
issue herself with her own fists and burning fury. But Happy's life was on the line, and it had
become increasingly clear that teamwork wasn't always the worst way to do things.

Who knew how many more of these guys there were, so just in case there were more hidden
in the shadows, Brooklyn had just bought herself some insurance.

Under normal circumstances, the assassin would've just killed the men and have it all be over
with. They were not the most fierce of opponents, certainly not the smartest either. But
Happy was watching...she could not let him see what destruction she could bring, couldn't
have him relay that information to Stark.

Plus, this was the second time these weapons criminals had become a problem for her.
Killing them would do no good for figuring out what the hell was going on. This was all
personal now, and even if she wasn't an agent yet, she'd certainly act like one.

So she restrained her instincts as best she could, keeping contact to a minimum so the urge to
kill would not overcome her. Brook did her best to work the way she had on the first day of
school when she’d defended Peter Parker, swerving and dogging so that the pair of criminals
could take themselves out instead.

With the help of a few stun waves from the Stark glove from Happy, the men fell to their
knees in no time, battered and bruised from the hits they’d dealt on themselves. That's when
Brooklyn quickly knocked them out with a swift kick to the head each.

Turning back towards the bright area lit up by the car's headlights, Brooklyn was almost
relieved to see Happy panting while holding out the red glove before him unsteadily, but
otherwise ok. As she’d bargained, Happy's marksmanship as the Head of Security HAD been
useful.

Brook shot him a quick nod, either of reassurance or as thanks for listening to her…she
wasn’t sure.

A quick scan of the place on her part showed no one else in sight, but she wasn't taking any
chances. Not after being ambushed on a calm drive back to the Compound, but she could
spare a few seconds to make sure Happy was alright.

"Nice aim," Brooklyn exclaimed towards Happy, "Have something we can tie these guys up
with? Quickly"

Happy began screaming, at last putting down the metal glove.

"ARE YOU INSANE! You could've gotten killed with that little hero stunt of yours that is so
like your father I'm almost tempted to ground you for it!"

Despite the circumstances, Brook actually chuckled, fighting the instinct to tell him she'd
actually been holding back her attacks this whole time for his sake.

Seeing as though he'd be of no help with all his screaming and lecturing, the ex-assassin took
her crimson coat off and tied the unconscious men as best she could with it. It would be a
shame considering it had been one of the coats Pepper had picked out for her, but Brook even
went as far as ripping the sleeves to improve the strength of the bonds.

Though every instinct in her bones was shouting to kill them now, she'd repressed such
thoughts in an instant before they could take hold. To distract herself and the anger still
boiling inside her like a volcano about to erupt, Brook listened to Happy's nervous ranting as
she dragged the bodies to the trunk of the relatively undamaged car, where she finally got
some help from the reluctant man to place them inside.

Even as Happy continued yelling at her to be more careful and such, Brooklyn made her way
to the car and fetched her plastic soda cup out. Though some of the Sprite had spilled earlier
during the crash, she had a moment of silence to mourn the unfinished drink as she spilled its
remaining contents out into the pavement.

Drying the cup with stray napkins was a tedious yet necessary step, especially when she lined
the now dry cup with them. With Happy screaming Brook’s ear off beside her, she leisurely
moved towards the pile of ashes on the road and scooped up as much of it as she could into
the cup.

"What are you doing now?" Grumpy asked, almost looking like he was thinking of halting
her progress if it weren't for the arm he cradled to his chest and the slight limping on his right
leg.

With a sight, the kneeling girl looked up at the man's red-rimmed eyes under the street light,
and after a tired sigh she replied, "I'm bringing a sample of this with us, it might help us
figure out more about the weapons we were just attacked with. I haven’t seen blueprints of
this kind in the records SHIELD gave us"

Happy looked like he was about to combust, face turning a bright red like the blood
cascading down his face while she tossed him his confiscated phone while placing her own in
her pocket.

"You're really thinking about that now?!" he asked, watching as Brook carefully put the
plastic lid over the cup and picked up the two remaining weapons from the floor with the
edges of her jacket, being careful not to activate them in any way.

She was also careful not to get any blood on Harry’s jersey while she was at it.

"We were actively targeted," Brook explained, "These idiots thought they could take down a
simple teenage girl as revenge. I'm willing to bet they were stupid enough to pass these
weapons around their gang since those two weren't wearing gloves, meaning now we have
fingerprints of the criminals that might come to avenge this lot…thats an advantage"

After placing the things inside the car, Brook took a moment to lean on the door frame of the
back seat to take in some fresh air. Aside from the shattered window of Happy’s seat and the
leaning position of the car stuck between the road and the forest’s edge…it was still a
relatively sturdy surface.

"What I'm trying to say is that this stuff may help us find them all. I suppose, it's always great
when criminals are certain of victory, makes the job of people like the Avengers all the
easier" she added, watching as Happy couldn't seem to take his eyes off the ash-filled cup
resting leisurely on his once pristine cup holder.

She might've inquired if he was ok after the whole ordeal. Brook was far too used to being
woken up at gunpoint in the middle to let the shock get to her, but poor Happy was surely
having a hard time. Of course she didn't get to do that because suddenly a loud noise echoed
behind them, like a crash.

Brooklyn had already snatched the Stark watch from Happy before quickly turning around to
face the new set of attackers, only to find a glowing red and gold suit instead.

Iron Man.

At least the old pager had worked after all. So much for her otets not trusting tech not made
by him, she thought with some amusement.

The glowing eyes of the suit beheld the blood on the street from the teen's delivered blows to
the head to knock out the criminals and some of which had to be Happy’s, then shifted to the
derailed car from the road…and lastly, those glowing eyes settled on Brook.

In seconds, the armor opened up like a blooming flower and her otets ran like the wind
towards them. Brook was about to give a report on what had happened when the man
surprised her by pulling her body into a bone crushing hug.

The first hug he'd ever given her.

Stark was shaking, his hands running soothing gestures along her hair, and if she focused
enough she could hear he kept whispering the same words over and over into the top of her
head.

You're alive. You're alive.

Unsure what to do, Brook remained still, breathing in the now familiar scent of coffee and the
oil from his workshop. It took her a few seconds to realize that the pager would’ve notified
something was wrong to SHIELD, yet Stark had been the first to answer the call.

Just now, he’d been afraid not just for Happy’s well being, but for her own.

Stark then pulled back enough to check for injuries that weren’t there, but then his eyes went
wide with panic and he placed pressure with his hand on the spot right under her rib cage…
where a coin sized red stain marked Harry's jersey.

Looked like her effort to keep it clean had gone to waste without her knowing. Fantastic.

"It's not blood," Brooklyn clarified quickly, "I must've spilled ketchup while eating fries on
the ride home"

The pressure against her side only stopped when Stark noticed the stain wasn’t spreading,
only then did the man seem to visibly relax slightly. But he was still breathing too heavily,
eyes wide, hands shaking. A panic attack, Brook realized.

She’d heard of those, had learned of such things back in the Red Room as actions that were
forbidden, seen as nothing more than weakness. Ivan had once explained that those who’d
seen battle could sometimes be seen falling victim to their own panic, just as she suspected
Stark was now. Only her old master had once instructed that if an enemy was ever like this, it
was the perfect time to strike.

Brook did no such thing. In fact…she cursed herself for not knowing how to ease the pain.
Thankfully, Happy came over to them, placing a hand on Stark's shoulder as if he too knew
what was happening to his friend.

"We're fine Tony. Neither of us are fatally injured" he said, words Stark needed to hear a few
more times before he could find his voice again, asking his suit to keep an eye on the
surroundings.

Had it not been for the worry edge into her otets' expression, she probably would’ve
mentioned something about Happy clearly needing to see a doctor. But if Happy hadn’t said a
thing, then he must not be in need of immediate medical attention.

After the reassurances eased his breathing patterns, Stark turned back to Brook and brought
her into another bone crushing hug.

Two hugs in one day from him. The first ones she'd ever received yet had never expected to.

Though Brook had been able to ’reciprocate’ a hug with Peter, Ned, MJ, and Tanya back at
the game, she wasn't completely sure how she could do it without the excitement of the
match now.

So she just stood there and let him bring her close, placing the hand that wasn’t stained with
Happy blood onto her otets' back. The most reassurance she could express.

"We got the emergency pager code," Stark whispered against her shoulder where his head
was bowed in defeat, "I rushed here as fast as I could. I thought something had gone wrong,
and then I saw the car and the blood..."

Brooklyn let her tired body rest against his, welcoming the embrace at last.

"Nothing I can't handle" she murmured back, then guiltily admitted, "Don't get mad, but I
have a pair of unconscious bodies in the trunk, a few alien weapons, and a cup full of ashes"
Stark pulled back to stare at her with a raised brow, but no sign of anger whatsoever.

"I never thought my daughter would say that to me," he replied with a visible smirk that had
his eyes shift into crescent moons.

Brooklyn actually relented a closed lip smile in return, "A simple thank you will suffice"

Stark shook his head, but finally released her with a pat on the head and no lecture in sight as
he went to go hug his injured friend who groaned at the contact.

Afterwards, the group decided to leave once the suit deemed the area around them clear of
more enemies. The suit had lifted the car back onto the road and the broken glass was
carefully dusted out with Happy’s suit jacket.

The whole ride back to the compound—which was escorted by Iron Man up above—
Brooklyn wondered why the sight of a car off the road was so mortifying to her otets, more
so than the blood or the pile of ashes. He’d kept staring back at the car more than once during
her explanation earlier, his eyes going somewhere far away before he’d proceed to pull her
close to his side until the tale was over and the car was righted back into place.

When she'd asked Happy, he gave her the one answer she'd been wondering about since the
dinner at the compound.

Despite his injuries, Happy kept both hands on the steering wheel with a tightening grip, and
almost like saying so pained him more than said injuries, the man said, "It's not very simple
to explain, but let's just say Tony's parents died in a car crash. It's a sensitive subject"

That was that, and Brooklyn made a note to never bring it up again. Though there was clearly
some resentment towards her grandfather and the way he’d raised her otets, Tony had seemed
very fond of his mother whenever he’d spoken of her during her trip to Stark Industries.

The sight of that car…it explained the panic attack because he must've imagined history
could've repeated itself. Brooklyn refused to ponder on it.

When they got back to the compound without another ambush, the weapons and prisoners
were finally taken away by awaiting agents, and Brook and Happy were quickly taken to the
Avengers floor where everyone had been waiting nervously, clad in pjs yet looking wide
awake.

As soon as Brook, Tony, and Happy made it inside, Pepper had tacked them all into an
embrace with never ending flows of tears in her eyes. The hug felt familiar, even with Stark
and Happy pressing onto her sides…but it felt like home. She felt the adrenaline coursing
through her body ebb away, the alertness of her instincts slowly faded as Happy’s and Stark’s
arms circled around her as well, and the four of them became this heap of hugs and tears,
reunited once more.

Not that she’d cried, of course. But there had been a faint stinging in her eyes…which she
attributed to holding back tears of amusement due to the fact that they thought she’d been in
trouble to begin with.
To her surprise, Steve and Wanda were also in tears taking turns to embrace Brook as well
once Pepper let go of her to demand an explanation for Happy. Both mutant and Captain also
made sure to tell Brook how glad they were that she was alive. Even though her sestra had
been devoid of tears, she’d surprised them both by embracing Brook, inquiring in Russian if
she was uninjured.

It felt odd to have so many people care for Brook at once, to have them worried over her life
like that. She wasn't sure if it was endearing or worrisome, because their concern stemmed
from actually caring for her…and Brooklyn had never had so many people in her corner
before.

It wasn’t awful though. She pushed aside her own pride and reservations to let them dote on
her if only this once, clearly what they needed to ease their own worries. Brooklyn accepted
the clean shirt from Vision without complaint even when it had clearly been one of her otets’
worn band t-shirts fresh out of the laundry, sat in the living room with her sestra and Sam
until Steve came in with a large plate of hot pancakes she’d gobbled down in seconds despite
the three cheeseburgers still in her system, and eased at the promise that Harry’s jersey was
being washed upstairs.

By the time everyone had gathered in the living room, Rhodey had already picked a peaceful
movie so everyone could calm their nerves, and after Dr. Banner gave up on getting Brook to
agree to medical check up, the cluster of heroes sat around Brook as they watched a movie
called Frozen.

It was a musical, entertaining enough that Brook got lost in it now that she knew Happy was
in the care of the Compound’s best doctors. That her mission to protect him had not failed.

She'd had the good mind to reply to her friends good night wishes, even when they were
unaware of what had just occurred and that her life had been in peril. It was sometime after
Peter's last message was answered that Brook's eyes grew a little heavy and her head fell
against Stark's shoulder while clutching onto her sestra's willing hand.

While Brooklyn had been asleep, Steve helped carry the teen to bed, and Pepper had been
about to change her into more comfortable clothes when Natasha had volunteered. A small
effort to hide the scars of her body from Pepper for the girl's sake...and perhaps for Potts’
sake as well. The woman had been pacing and crying in the half hour since the ping for help
had come and Stark had rushed out the building. Nat figured the last thing the woman needed
was to see those old wounds.

Sure enough, when Nat removed Tony’s too-large shirt from the girl’s body the scars had still
been there, long violent gashes across Brook's back. Some of which were indented enough
that Nat wasn't sure if they would ever heal, even with Dr. Cho's machinery. The fellow ex-
assassin also had the courtesy to strap on the Stark watch from the girl's pocket back on her
wrist to conceal the cuff marks that decorated her wrists. Marks Natasha also had and
constantly kept concealed with her Widow’s Bite cuffs, scars only Steve and Fury knew of.

By the time Wanda came inside the bedroom with a glass of water and levitated extra
blankets, all traces of Brooklyn's past had been concealed.
Perhaps it was because they'd almost lost the young girl they'd all grown fond of, but the
eleven Avengers and a pathed up Happy all huddled by the front door of the small room and
were unwilling to leave for a while. They watched over the sleeping Brook for a few minutes,
making sure her breathing was steady and her expression was calm.

Once Rhodey suggested they all try and go get some sleep as well, Tony and Pepper had gone
back to caress the girl's auburn hair, delicately fix the golden chain on the teen’s neck before
whispering something none of the others could hear.

It had been the wish that Brooklyn had a restful sleep, that what had happened today would
not plague her dreams. It was then that Stark whispered for the first time, I love you, kid. It
had brought tears to Pepper's eyes, tears she refused to let fall on the teen's sleeping body so
she'd dragged herself and Tony away from the room.

Tomorrow would be an important day, one which could hopefully lead to some progress
thanks to Brooklyn's findings. At least that's what everyone chose to focus on as they made it
to their own beds after making sure every newly enhanced security protocol was activated
around the Compound.

Spider-man HAD been notified by Tony of what happened shortly before the man turned into
bed. Miles away, a frantic Peter Parker couldn't help but feel a little guilty as he settled on his
twin bed after patrols, phone still in hand.

If he hadn't been playing with the band at halftime, he might've kept an eye on Brook on her
way out. The guilt of that kept him awake for a while, at least until the ease of her being
unharmed settled his thoughts.

He'd see her tomorrow, that much he’d decided even if it meant Brooklyn would not
appreciate the sight of Spider-man. Unfortunately, he couldn't go to the Compound as Peter,
but he needed to see that she was unharmed. Despite not being his place, he also had the urge
to congratulate her, because according to Mr. Stark, no one had been killed by her during the
attack.

Knowing Mr. Stark was likely still upset and surely in for a sleepless night, Peter decided to
send him photos he’d taken at the game, some from lunch where Brooklyn could be seen
smiling with their friends.

Something told him Mr. Stark would like to see them...he'd been right. Those photos had
Tony and Pepper sharing smiles in the darkness of the room despite the events of today.
Those photos had been saved onto his ‘Put it on the fridge’ files before both adults went to
sleep, only occasionally waking up to check in on Brooklyn, who remained sound asleep all
night.
 Ballet en Pointe
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

As Natasha finished strapping her flats comfortably and both widows rose from the ground,
the two made their way to the middle of the spacious room Brooklyn had decided would
become her place to escape for a few hours should she ever need one.

Her sestra had mentioned that this was one of the rooms on the Avengers floor that had
previously been nothing more than a place for storage instead of the training room it was
supposed to become. It was plain, nothing but hardwood floors, a wall full of mirrors, a table
and spacious cabinets on the other side that were indeed made for storage. Nothing major.

Well…there was an observation area above the room as indicated by the tinted windows
above the mirrored wall, but according to Natasha, now that was the only place that had
actually served its purpose for storage.

Months ago, upon those stored things, Natasha had found some wooden bars the two widows
had just set up before the large mirrors. With them in place, the two stretched their legs to
their limits with familiarity, and after some common warm ups, Natasha asked FRIDAY to
initiate her usual playlist.

In seconds, the orchestral sounds of Tchaikovsky filled the empty room. A melody so
familiar that instinctively, Brooklyn got into first position without being told to, almost like a
machine wired to do so she supposed. The young assassin had been dancing to this particular
piece since she was probably four years old. It was one of the first choreographies she'd
learned, the one that many widows had fallen prey to when unable to master its ethereal
choreography.

In no time, her feet were carrying her around the room performing smooth brisé's, chassé's,
and soubresauts despite not having practiced in over three months.

This song wasn't a Pas de Deux (dance for two), yet Natasha was performing the moves just
as elegantly, both of them in unparalleled sync that could only be achieved by years and years
of practice. Even if that practice had been nothing but grueling training of their youth, it was
a testament to the perfection of their performance.

Brook was most certain that even if she never picked up a pair of ballet flats again for
decades, as soon as she heard the melody of the song and picked up the right shoes, instinct
would guide to a flawless performance.

In silence, the two ex-assassins let their minds get lost in the song, trying to forget the days
filled with nothing but this. In the Red Room, even the smallest flaw could lead to death,
ensuring only the strongest survived. But now, the two Russians were dancing not as a way to
prove their worth or ability, but rather to relax and get lost in an old matter of training that
both had long since adapted as a hobby despite their cruel introduction to the world of ballet.

There were no punishments or imminent death, just two widows gliding across a room.

One of the things Brooklyn loved about this particular piece is that it had both grace and
aggressiveness to it, a perfect depiction of any girl in the Red Room Academy. So she glided
confidently with the movements that came as easily as breathing, watching as her sestra did
the same up until the last note of the song. By its end, the choreography had been performed
without a single mistake, and Brooklyn was unable to mask the small private smile that spoke
volumes of how much she’d missed the hidden hobby. Something about a flawless
performance always chased away the shadows of the day, perhaps stemming from the
satisfaction of achieving those results as a child and living to see another day.

Natasha silently went over to the tables on the far end of the space, fetching two water
bottles, one which she threw Brook's way.

"You were taught well," Natasha said, "your form was flawless"

Brooklyn gulped the water greedily, then trying her best to let the compliment brush over her
head, replied, "As were you. I must say, your interrogation skills were not half bad either"

Both widows smirked, thinking back to their team work outside of the dance they’d just
performed.

Though neither widow would admit it, they were completely spent, not just from the dancing.
All morning on Saturday, the widows had spent in the interrogation rooms leeching secrets
from the criminals Brook had helped apprehend during the attack on Friday.

Some members of the Avengers team had been hesitant to let Brook take part in that, but
she'd proven a fearsome ally with Natasha in getting names, locations, and even some more
detained descriptions of warehouses around the country where purchased weapons were
stored.

Even Agent Coulson had failed to provide such results in his two hour session last night.

Though both widows hadn't used a single bit of violence, Brooklyn had still felt the pull to
kill...to torture, especially when she was reminded of Happy’s injuries and her otets’ panic.
The only thing that had held the girl back was the knowledge that Stark and the others were
watching on the other side of the tinted mirror.

Once the interrogation had proved fruitful, there had been enough locations to investigate that
the rest of the Avengers had become very busy rather quickly.

Though Brooklyn didn't let it show, she was disappointed. Not that everyone was going their
separate ways, but that the information the criminals had provided did not match the details
from the wallet and phone Brook had snatched from the assassin she'd killed.
The teen would never tell a soul, but during the wee hours of the morning she had woken up
in a mild panic, and hauled herself into her adjoining bathroom with her backpack…deciding
to use her time alone to investigate further on that pending assassin issue she’d been ignoring
all this time to try and forget the life she took.

Her panic hadn’t been caused by a stray nightmare, but rather the realization that if the two
events had been connected…then there was someone out there trying to kill her who was
willing to kill those around her. Brooklyn hadn’t known how she’d made it to bed and onto
pjs, but that had paled in comparison to the thought of someone trying to kill her come
Monday while she walked to school with Peter and Harry.

Risking their lives was not something she would allow, and so she’d decided to use the
morning to gather intel on the person that had tried to kill her, enough to connect to the
criminals over at the SHIELD building when the reports on the interrogations came out.

But then over breakfast she’d heard the questioning had proved fruitless, and when Nat was
called to do her thing, Brooklyn had insisted on helping. Not because she had a personal need
to see the two criminals suffer, but because she wanted to know for a fact that she wasn’t
about to paint a target on the few friends she’d dared to have.

Not that she’d told the Avengers that.

As for her own investigation last night, she had been hesitant to use the laptop left in the
room for her, but Brooklyn was able to instill privacy measures and began searching through
the phone's memory. All that intel had led back to places not mentioned by the two criminals
she'd captured. Maybe someday Brooklyn would take the time to look into Central City and
Metropolis for assassin activity, the leads the phone had led to.

Unfortunately for Brook, her time to squeeze in a bit more research had been cut short that
morning by a summons from the Director of SHIELD. Despite her early success with the
interrogation, Fury had still made her do all those left-over tests for her SHIELD evaluations.
So Brook had spent far too much time in a plain office, answering questions meant to test her
reasoning and resolve.

Her otets had been too busy scanning the weapons with Dr Banner, that she'd been left to deal
with the SHIELD matter on her own. Even when Saturday was supposed to be her free day.

The girl had answered all questions truthfully of course, she figured Fury would be able to
tell if she lied anyways, but Brook found that she answered some questions differently than
the way she might've a week ago. People were not so bad, team work could be useful, and
she'd grown to accept that death wasn't always the answer. Agent Adonis had been rather
surprised by her answers, especially when the lie detector of the interview section of the
assessment showed nothing but honesty on her part. It had been so satisfying to see that
surprise on his face, even when Brook was equally as flabbergasted by some of her own
responses. She'd secretly blamed it on her friends, that group of misfits was already making
her grow soft.

She'd actually responded to their lazy texts when they messaged her after her evaluations,
relaxing when Peter mentioned being at home with Aunt May, safe and sound. Most talked of
mundane things, like spending time with family, having inquiries on homework…things that
she obviously could not relate with after being attacked last night by alien weaponry and just
having finished a SHIELD assessment exam.

But the knowledge that they were all living those simple little lives was…comforting.

Around lunch time on that very Saturday, the overall evaluation results were to be given to
her and the team, and Brooklyn had done her best to hide the nerves bubbling inside her
while around the others.

She’d tried to be casual about not caring for the results that would dictate if she was even
allowed to proceed in her agent training, distracting herself with the funny memes and videos
her friends sent her. Even Pepper and Stark had seemed unusually nervous at the lunch table
until Agent Hill had come in with the sealed envelope.

The Avengers had fought amongst themselves to read the results when Brooklyn refused to
do so out of nothing short of embarrassing nerves. In the end, Grandpa Steve had been
chosen to see them first and deliver the news to the table.

In short, she'd passed...barely.

Though things like weapon's handling, and physical defense would be things Brooklyn didn't
have to do additional training on at all, she'd be stuck doing group training for quite some
time. If memory served, Brook had been labeled as more than qualified for the Academy’s
program, but there were many things that 'needed improvement'.

Luckily, all that training could be completed in a few months.

After being so good at everything in the Red Room, some part of her still remained sour that
she hadn't passed everything with flying colors. But maybe it was punishment from the world
for that kill from two days ago, or the fact that she’d severely messed up her first day of
training by doing just that…killing

The Avengers had been rather happy about her results though, had been ecstatic she'd been
able to skip past a few things too, some even the all-powerful and absent Spider-man hadn't
been able to.

That had brightened her spirits enough to allow Scott to take some photos with the group
showcasing her acceptance letter. For whatever reason, the team swore they would hang it on
the walls of the living room like a prized trophy.

That small SHIELD acceptance letter was what earned Brook some well deserved free time
on Sunday, which Natasha had offered to spend with her especially when she saw the teen
had packed her ballet flats.

"You never told me where you got those from," Natasha said, motioning to the ballet shoes
on her feet as she wiped perspiration off her neck.
Brooklyn collapsed on the ground lazily, but eyed the precious worn flats on her feet. The
shoes ballerinas changed more often than the seasons did, but Brook’s dancing had not been
indulged often enough that the ballet flats had become useless. Even if they were, Black
Widows would not feel the pain, not after the kind of burdens their feet had been put through
for years.

"When I was adopted, I noticed there was a ballet studio down the block. Every day I'd walk
by it, and it always amazed me how much fun those young girls were having when I'd only
known one way to learn, the Red Room way" Brook admitted, "Even though I had just
escaped that awful place, some part of me missed it, the dancing"

Natasha nodded, taking a seat on the floor next to her.

"So your adoptive parents let you take classes?" she asked, making Brooklyn burst into fits of
dark laughter.

"Not really. I asked once and they said it was a waste of money, so I considered stealing some
shoes so I could practice on my own time" Brook said, "That changed when I ran away to
New York. Though I still contemplated stealing some shoes from time to time, it wasn't until
I saved up enough money from my job that I bought these"

Natasha smirked, "Stealing them would've been easier"

Yeah, it would've certainly been way cheaper. The flats she had on were 120 dollars, and
those had been the cheapest thirteen year old Brooklyn had been able to find that wouldn’t
end up becoming a danger to her feet while dancing.

Even only wearing the finest and most expensive ballet shoes all her life, it didn’t feel like a
downgrade in the least. If anything, to this day, Brooklyn regarded these faded-pink ballet
shoes as the most valuable in the world.

"It wouldn't have been very hard to steal them," she admitted, lowering her head to hide the
blooming heat she felt spreading across her cheeks, "But I wanted my ballet shoes to be truly
mine, not gained in a way the Red Room would've liked"

Her sestra did not judge her reasoning, she just stared down at her own pair of ballet flats
with equal adoration. It wasn’t until Natasha explained that Brook realized why there had
been no judgment from her sestra.

"I bought these with my first check from SHIELD"

Brooklyn's eyes went wide. Now that she looked at them, the shoes were perhaps more worn
that Brook’s own, but that didn’t make sense. Natasha’s salary could get her a steady supply
of shoes whenever she needed them, after all, ballerinas changed their pointe shoes every ten
to twenty hours of dancing once the natural materials faded.

So why hadn’t she done so all these years? If those had been the pair she’d bought when
she’d gotten for her first check, they had to be over a decade old.
"Why did you buy some?" the teen asked instead.

Natasha crushed her empty bottle, but seemed calm as she explained, "I had just betrayed my
people, became an American spy. For a time, I was afraid I'd grow weak without Ivan. You
know as well as I do that all our ballet training was meant to make us stronger, so I took up
ballet to try and calm my nerves. Now its just something I enjoy, something I made my own"

Brook recalled the times Ivan and the other instructors made them dance and dance until one
of them fell from exhaustion, that girl was always killed on the spot. There was a certain
satisfaction afterwards, knowing you were strong enough to survive, it became an
empowering experience.

"Thankfully, those times with Ivan are over, sestra. It's best we don't linger too much thinking
about the past" Natasha said standing up after unwrapping her flats, and stuffing them in a
small gym bag.

Turning back to look at the teen, Natasha asked if she wanted to go to the lounging area with
her. Brooklyn declined with the excuse of wanting to dance a little longer, when in reality she
just needed some time to herself. Her sestra did not push it, just left with an encouraging
smile to join the other Avengers, who were likely getting ready for their upcoming missions.
Though Brooklyn was getting used to them being around (despite them being mostly absent
yesterday), they had all been rather clingy since she’d arrived at the Compound.

It had taken a few minutes during breakfast to convince everyone that she did not need to live
in the Compound permanently and that her safety was ok as it was. Rhodey had still insisted
Brook add the number for the Queens police department on speed dial, and Stark mentioned
he was already working for an enhanced safety program for her apartment.

Those two...

After pondering how to enjoy her time alone, the girl asked FRIDAY to play the classic Waltz
of the Flowers, another Tchaikovsky piece Brooklyn favored very much. It was one of the
few that had never been used for punishments or as stamina practice for long periods of
time…though its gentle nature had been frowned upon in the Red Room for as long as
Brooklyn could remember.

Probably why she waited to dance it alone without her sestra around.

The melody was warm and kind, and had a certain innocence to it that often fooled Brook
into thinking she was more than just an assassin, a trained killer. The moves of the
choreography itself were relaxing, if not the complete opposite of what combat was like.

It allowed her to focus on the happy things in life, stray from those that made her worry as of
late for reasons other than her own well being.

Perhaps it was not the best idea to get lost in such a piece after all the attacks she’d been
subjected to recently, because it wasn't until something bumped against one of the set up
wooden stretching beams behind her that Brook realized she was no longer alone in the small
room.
Even though the music kept going, Brooklyn paused her steps and quickly turned with hidden
dagger in hand that was once disguised as nothing more than a decorative hairpin across her
bun, only to see none other than Spider-man in full suit standing by the door trying to hold
the flimsy beam upright he’d almost knocked over. The dagger in hand lowered at the sight,
and despite the peaceful melody flowing around them like the wind, Brooklyn couldn’t help
but frown.

"I'm sorry! I just heard the music and then I saw you dancing like that and..." Brook cut him
off with a scathing look.

"You're spying on me now? It's almost as if you truly want me to kill you after all" she said,
making a show of fisting her hands even when the impulse to kill him wasn't there for once.

The hero gently set down the beam he just couldn’t fix and began to apologize profoundly,
even going as far as to resort to compliments on her unfinished performance.

Brooklyn debated asking him to beg on his knees for forgiveness, but he'd likely do so with
little hesitation, which should no doubt take the enjoyment out of it. Instead, the girl asked
FRIDAY to lower the melody, then with a deeper frown, made her way over to a nearby chair
to take the flats off her aching feet.

When the hero noticed this, he said, "You don't have to stop dancing! I can leave if you want"

"Why didn't you leave earlier then?" Brook asked without halting her movements, earning a
nervous neck rub from the idiot standing a few steps away.

"I already said it, you looked really cool! But doesn't it hurt to dance on your toes like that?"
Spidy asked, almost sending Brooklyn into a burst of laughter. She’d once grown up
surrounded by those who knew the art of ballet as well as she did, it was rather amusing to
think there were actually those out there that didn’t spend their youth dancing till they
dropped.

Before answering, Brooklyn discarded her flats and socks onto a nearby gym bag gifted to
her by Natasha earlier. Feet laid bare, she knew the hero could see the healed cuts from many
years past, the painful purpling flesh by the tips of her feet, and even a few blisters caused by
her lack of recent practice.

She’d hoped to scare him with the sight, but as if purposefully doing everything she deemed
impossible, Spider-man quickly knelt before the chair, inspecting her tired feet meticulously
with those metal eyes of his widening and shrinking in panic.

It was almost funny considering she'd almost made him get on his knees earlier to apologize
for his intrusion. Now he was doing so willingly.

"What happened to your feet, was this from yesterday's attack? Do you want me to get Dr.
Banner…should you even be dancing if you’re injured? They said you’d walked away alright
though!" he asked, at last making Brooklyn relent a smile at his naiveness.
"This is the result of around...four years of ballet dancing in the Red Room. They used to
make us dance until our feet bled, and then some. Sometimes we went a full day without
breaks or food to prove our worth. The training made us stronger" Brooklyn explained, but
her inability to see his face left her wondering just what expression was truly behind that
mask.

Would he be finally horrified enough to leave?

Eyes still glued on her injured feet, he simply asked, "Did they not...I don't know, take you to
a doctor afterwards?"

Brooklyn smirked at the innocent through, "I never saw a doctor in my life for any of my
injuries. The only times I went to get treated were for seasonal shots, but I'm not entirely sure
that's what they were. It was most likely poison meant to test our strength and build up an
immunity. No one in the Red Room was built to heal, only hurt"

The hero remained in stunned silence for a few long seconds, eyes locked on her lower
appendages in a way that it almost made him look…sad. She felt no pity for him, much less
for herself, so she simply chuckled and moved to stand from the chair to stretch her arms.

"Don't be so worked up about it just because your family probably took you to the doctor for
every little small scrape you earned in a playground. I'm used to the pain by now. While
dancing, jumping and lifting put the biggest strain on feet, so ankle and muscular injuries are
common, you get broken toenails too," Brook added, pointing at her smaller toes which still
had some cracked spots, "The swelling will go down soon enough by itself, it just takes time"

Though it should've come as no surprise, Spider-man's next words were still laced with
horror. Just not directed at her as should’ve been the case.

"It shouldn't be like that, and they shouldn't have done any of that to you," he said, standing
up and with the least amount of hesitation she’d ever seen from him, took Brook’s hands in
his to guide her towards the small counter at the end of the room.

Despite her tired complaints, Spider-man eased her up on the black counter with no strain
whatsoever, though his touch on her hips had been quick as if he knew touching her for too
long would earn him broken limbs he’d truly have to worry about. Sitting there atop that
counter, Brook was puzzled enough that she did nothing as he frantically reached the cabinets
above and below for a first aid kit.

"Every room in this building has one just for emergencies," the hero clarified as he finally
pulled out a set of coiled bandages, cooling patches, and even some creams. Though the
cabinets were stocked to the brim with all kinds of supplies, some of which only had
ingredients lists rather than labels of what they were for, Spider-man gathered his supplies
with the expertise of a doctor.

Brook was almost curious as to how he was so familiar with medicine. Perhaps it was a
necessity in the line of work of a hero, or a clue as to what his true identity was. Everyone
had given small hints that Spider-man was closer to her age than theirs, so maybe he wasn't a
doctor, but perhaps someone close to him was.
She remained watching, stunned by the display, until one of his gloved hands reached for her
left foot. That's when Brooklyn finally came back to her senses and shifted further away from
him, almost hitting the open cabinet behind her head.

"What are you doing!?" she asked frantically, watching as the hero slowly made his way
closer to her, holding out a hand for her to place her foot in as he begged her to let him treat
her wounds.

When she'd asked why he'd bother to help her, Spider-man's deep robotic voice replied
without hesitation.

"I know you don't believe it yet, but I don't like seeing you hurt. Maybe suffering in silence
was alright in the place you used to live in before, but here none of us here will ever let you
suffer alone. You can hate me for it if you want, but I’m treating those wounds"

His words had stunned Brook enough that when he took her foot into his hand and slowly
began applying different creams and pastes to varying injuries and placed cooling packs on
her blisters…Brooklyn had no idea what to do.

This was the first time anyone ever bothered to treat non-lethal injuries of no major
consequence. It made her heart twist uncomfortably...because how could a person that could
lift a moving car with his bare hands be so gentle now when dealing with her suffering feet?

Despite her hatred towards Spider-man, he had been correct. The cooling effect of the cream
and patches were so soothing that the ex-assassin had to hold back a sigh of relief. Likely
noticing he wasn’t about to be strangled with the stray gausses, Spider-man's gentle hands
continued to gently treat her wounds then bandaged her feet with care in a way that did not
restrict her walking abilities.

Perhaps she was still far too proud in the face of an 'enemy', because Brooklyn found it
beyond impossible to thank the idiot for his help. She sat there, staring up at his masked face
as if trying to find traces of the face beyond.

"That didn't hurt, right? I can loosen the bandages if they are too tight!"

His deep voice stunned her.

Brooklyn merely shook her head, quickly jumping down from the black tabletop to gather her
gym bag across her shoulder to rest against her black cropped-jacket. Though she attributed it
to lack of rationality after an exhausting day, the knowledge that words failed her had
Brooklyn at least patted the hero on the back as she made her way to the door.

"My feet feel fine now," she said once she’d reached the door, turning back to add, "This
doesn't mean I don't hate you, but you should try to be less nice to me so you can make my
job easier, even if we'll likely end up partners during SHIELD training from now on"

Spider-man was leaning against the counters, medical supplies scattered behind him. He
didn't seem to take her suggestion of remaining enemies into account, like the wounds on her
feet, it appeared the hero was determined to patch up their differences.
In fact, he went as far as gently grabbing her gym bag before offering to walk with her to the
lounging area. Still half-stunned by his unwavering kindness, Brook allowed it just this once.
She let the hero rant about the team bonding that would happen tonight and all the games
they could play and despite her distaste for his company, the soothing feeling across her feet
kept her mouth shut.

Unknown to Brook or Spidy, Tony and Rhodey had been in the observation room outlooking
the room for quite some time, witnessing the girl's graceful dancing but also the hidden scars
behind it all.

Tony stood by the tinted window, remembering the marks on his daughter's wrist…and after
seeing and hearing all of this, especially after the scare of yesterday...it broke his heart. He
hadn’t meant to intrude to begin with but after coming back from a mission he’d asked
FRIDAY on the whereabouts of his daughter and the AI had suggested going to the
observation room to not disturb her dancing.

His curiosity had brought forth a most cruel reality. Though neither Avenger mentioned it out
loud, they were both becoming even more curious about what Brooklyn’s life might have
been like before. How many more injuries lay hidden from the days spent in the mysterious
Red Room.

Unfortunately, Brook and Nat were the only ones with those answers, and neither of them
would explain. Tony could only hope that in time, Brooklyn would learn to lean on him for
help as she’d just allowed Underoos of all people to do. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about
that…but he’d likely end up patting the boy on the back for treating his daughter’s wounds,
then eating all his popcorn during movie night for touching his daughter.

Tony was no fool, he knew that if the day ever came that Brooklyn felt like sharing bits like
those of her past, he most certainly would not be pleased to hear all that went on in the Red
Room. But some part of him couldn't help but feel protective, wanting to know all that she’d
suffered to try and find a solution to heal every ache and pain.

"At least she didn't kill the kid or the criminals from yesterday, that's progress Tony" Rhodey
assured softly, even when the Lieutenant Colonel's own mind was still running wild with
troubling thoughts of the girl killing people as a child in delicate ballet shoes.

During game night, Brooklyn's first ever, Tony had made sure everything had gone perfectly
for her sake. He didn't even bring up the injuries beneath her fluffy socks just to keep the
ambiance happy after a long day.

Tony had even kept his usual sass at bay from the traitorous Captain, if only because hearing
his daughter calling Steve grandpa was more amusing than anything.

Though he'd never say it out loud, there was perhaps some cruel truth in calling him that, a
fact that made him hate Rogers all the more the longer he pondered on it.

The famed Peggy Carter, a founder of SHIELD and the first ever female American spy, had
taken care of Tony across his youth when his own father hadn't been around, and she'd loved
Steve more than anything. In fact both her and his dad had never shut up about Capsicle.
Though the woman was now dead and her expansive secrets along with her, the irony of the
statement Brook kept repeating was not lost on him. It was his own secret now, one that both
soothed his soul and made his blood boil.

To distract his wandering thoughts, the team elected to play a simple game of cards tonight.
Surprisingly, his efforts had worked.

The game had turned competitive and way more over the top than Brooklyn had expected.

As everyone gathered along the carpeted floor of the main living room after dinner, clad in
PJs and with bowls full of snacks around them, Brooklyn realized just how ridiculously
funny it was when the Avengers got serious during a game. Just seeing them like this…the
mightiest heroes of the planet, it was a comical sight.

Steve and a bandaged Happy had dominated the game from the start, leaving a curled up
Scott to mourn the loss of his betting currency (which was just a handful of chocolate chips,
Pepper had banned actual currency three years prior from what Brook had been told).

When Wanda had gone broke shortly after, she'd laid upside down on the couch with a pout
on her face, cheering for Steve's demise any chance she could.

Neither Stark had been particularly good at the game, even when Brooklyn poured all her
efforts into it. In no time, all of their chocolate chips, as well as Pepper's, now rested in the
pile of Steve's conquests.

The golden retriever of America hadn't been smug about his good fortune at any point of the
game, but he had smiled quite a lot when things went his way. The nerve of that man...

By the time Sam had lost all his remaining coin to Spider-man beside her, the Falcon actually
looked like he was ready to tackle the younger hero to death, something Brooklyn might've
helped with had it not been for Pepper and her sestra braiding her hair. Used to the physical
touch of both women and trusting them enough to know they wouldn’t kill her, Brooklyn had
let them do as they wished while the three of them watched as Vision's math and probability
calculations failed him against Happy's experience during a particularly intense death match.

Brooklyn had actually sent the machine a pitiful thumbs up, only because they were 'siblings'
after all. Vision, who was still puzzled by his loss or more so that of his calculated
probabilities, returned the gesture with a smile that almost had the teen questioning just what
nonsense she was allowing into her life.

When Spider-man had finally lost to Steve despite Natasha’s help, Brooklyn had taken a
much different approach of acknowledging his loss, this time by throwing popcorn his way.
Unable to eat it without revealing his secret identity, the hero thought himself a comedian as
he began biting the popcorn with his mask still on.

That had been the distraction the Captain needed to take out Rhodey in one move.
That only left Natasha, Steve, Happy, Clint, and Bruce with chances of victory…but Dr.
Banner had fallen asleep just now, so the reminding players just split his chocolatey currency
to allow the poor doctor some rest.

Just like the High School football game she’d witnessed, there was a certain air of
entertainment Brooklyn got lost in, especially as the bets began going around the rowdy room
by those who had already been kicked out of the game, this time in the form of
marshmallows for their pending hot chocolate.

Brooklyn had even set previous disagreements aside to team up with Stark in support of
Natasha, both of them sharing knowing smiles when the Black Window was able to see past
Steve's poker face.

They’d thought the game was as good as theirs in sestra’s hands. Unfortunately, Happy had
no mercy even with his lingering injuries on display.

He took down Clint and Natasha in a single round, and the room burst into an outcry that left
many, including the young teen, sprawled on the floor dramatically mourning their lost
hoarded snacks to the ridiculous bets.

Brook didn't actually get to see the victory round, her tired body had betrayed her by falling
asleep after a long day. In that state of fogginess, she'd ended up subconsciously cuddling
close to the warmest body near her…which just so happened to be Spider-man's. Her most
despised enemy who much like Brooklyn, ended up falling asleep on the floor minutes before
she had.

How did she know that unfortunate event had happened, one may ask. It was because
everyone noticed the two sleeping figures at some point and had eagerly taken photos to
boast about it during breakfast next morning. Only after that had they carried the kids to their
respective beds.

Unsuspecting of anything amiss, as soon as Brook had settled on the barn table awaiting
pancakes, the Avengers had been quick to show her the images of the masked hero delicately
sprawled amidst the white fluff of the rug with her cuddled to his side, arm around his
middle. Brook hadn't been able to save her pride then, and if it wasn't for training with Stark
and Natasha in the morning, she might've just stayed in her room all day to avoid Spider-
man's panicked gaze.

But training had been worth it. It was simple work, mostly focused on teamwork more than
anything but she’d learned many forms of evasive combat the Red Room had never bothered
teaching…and she’d learned them from her otets, who was apparently a master of Wing
Chun, a form of self-defense utilizing both striking and controlling while specializing in
close-range combat.

That didn't mean she hadn't tried to steal everyone's phones after and during training to delete
the incriminating evidence of her cuddling with that idiot. Unfortunately, she'd only managed
to do that for a few members before Stark mentioned he'd saved the photos somewhere safe.

A mission for later then.

Aside from that, her two days in the compound had been pleasant. Filled with welcoming and
yummy meals, training so unlike the Red Room that she actually learned new techniques, and
even free time to do some more ballet with her sestra.

Though Brook had still taken the time to help with the interrogations of the newly acquired
prisoners from the Avenger’s raids of nearby weapons storage units, and even spent a few
hours of her time with Stark down in a lab scanning said weapons, it had been a relatively
calm time…not like the way a normal family might interact, but the normal way her family
would interact.

By the end of the week, Brooklyn actually mourned her return to Queens, that was until she
remembered the friends she'd been texting all weekend. People she found herself missing
from time to time. It would be great to see them again especially since Midtown won the
game Friday, and Monday would be filled with celebrations.

Though the young ex-assassin was now concerned over the separate missions some of the
Avengers would partake in these next few days due to the new flow of information from the
prisoners, she had trained with them enough to convince herself they could hold their own.

Nat and Rhodey were going down to Florida to investigate some possible distributions by
boats and cruises across its coast, while Wanda and Vision had been given permission to go
raid one of the warehouses suspected of being guarded by enhanced individuals.

Even when Brooklyn had been upset about not being able to help due to her trainee status,
she'd still made an effort to wish everyone good luck and get as much information out of the
lowlives in the SHIELD prisons to ensure things went as smoothly as possible. Those
cowards had proved reliable after a bit of trickery and induced fear.

Her last afternoon at the compound was spent in a peaceful manner, watching a movie.
Originally, Wanda had wanted Brooklyn to become acquainted with Disney movies since she
hadn’t complained about Frozen and such movies were a part of the childhoods of people
their age. A childhood Brook had been ‘deprived’ of…but might need the information to
keep her cover at school.

Thus, she had agreed to watch more, but when Snow White had been suggested, the ex-
assassin had quickly shot down that idea. When asked why, Brooklyn almost mentioned how
she and the others in the Red Room were often forced to watch video projections such as
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

It wasn't for fun though, the movie shown was full of subliminal messages.

Instill. Fear. Pain.

Those were amongst the words that were meant to slowly brainwash them. Afraid that the
movie could trigger something in her, the teen suggested a movie she hadn't been shown
during her youth but had often heard things about during work.

So Brook and the others spent her afternoon in a movie room watching a film called Moana,
which was apparently one of Scott's favorites movies because it was one of Cassie’s
favorites. Brooklyn even caught the subtle way in which Clint mouthed the songs when he
thought no one was looking which was funny considering the man had spent the minutes
before the film began instilling safety information into her brain. It seemed that not everyone
had let Friday's attack go as if yet.

After the movie, when many farewells were exchanged and a three hour ride home —with an
escort from Iron Man up in the skies, of course—had ended, Brooklyn was back in her lonely
apartment once again. A car ride in which once they arrived at the gates of her apartment,
Happy had grumpily thanked her for what she’d done during the attack on Friday.

It hadn’t been an outright thank you, he’d taken a few seconds to scold her for being so
reckless, but he’d admitted that her skills and quick thinking had likely saved their lives.
Before Brook could smirk at the admission, Happy had told her that if she ever dared to stand
in front of him during a fight either to take a bullet or an alien blast for him…he’d make sure
she was grounded till she was sixty-years-old.

Brooklyn had merely saluted at the words, but had never promised a thing.

Now busing herself with homework on the balcony hours later, she let the glow of the city
and the hung up twinkling lights above the space be her company. As she got lost in the
sights of the nightlife beyond her home, she'd even seen Spider-man swinging from building
to building in the distance under the moonlight, but something about spending time with him
during the long weekend made her silently wish him a safe return home as well, wherever
that was.

Even when her loft had new security installed by her dad hours prior, Brooklyn went to bed at
peace regardless if only because being back home felt like a safe haven of its own. Her little
cocoon of warmth.

There were no dreams of the past, or memories of the recent life she took. All she could think
of was that things were finally looking up in her life, and that maybe this life as a Stark
wasn't so bad after all.

This had been the longest week of her life, the one that had changed everything, not just of
her future, but of her past. But for once in her life, the ex-assassin was actually looking
forward to many more weeks just like it, even with the rough patches in between.

Many things were set in motion, things that Brooklyn couldn't have possibly imagined would
ever become a part of her life. Nor did she think she’d be fighting on the side of the good
guys for once, but if the weekend had proven anything, it's that she had a place in SHIELD…
and that her past skills could be used for good.

Change would come soon, but for now the girl enjoyed the warmth of her bed, lazily replying
to the good night texts form her friends and family...unaware of the things to come that would
once again flip her life upside down. One of those things being someone she’d meet in the
very near future.
Chapter End Notes

Though I mentioned this in earlier chapters, the Red Room Academy where Brook is
from was know for using ballet to train their students as well as for their cover. We have
seen it in Natasha's memories in Age of Ultron and many times in the comics.

I thought it would be an interesting thing to include, especially for someone like

Brooklyn, because the people around her would never expect her to partake in the
hobby. Ballet has a certain set of cliches to it, mostly that only graceful and sweet ladies
take it up for themselves. But widows can be both deadly and poised.

I also wanted something for Nat and Brook to bond over to further patch their
relationship since they'll be leaning on one another in chapters to come, so expect much
more ballet in the future! I hope you like it!

Get ready for part 2 of the story when some much awaited new characters will be
introduced at last!
 Progress [Part 2]
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 Part Two: The Devil

"Art is to look and not criticize"

-Edgar Allan Poe

Brooklyn POV-

Four weeks ago when Brook had met Tony Stark for the first time, she would've never
imagined standing by his side in a giant floating ship. SHIELD had been a pain in her ass
these past few weeks, that was for sure, but there were times when Director Fury actually
managed to surprise her.

Despite the fact that she had homework to finish and Decathlon practice flashcards to make,
Brook had been greeted at the front of the SHIELD Academy building by none other than the
Director and his three favorite agents. Agent Coulson, Hill, and Adonis.

They'd mentioned today's training exercises would be different from the usual sparring,
intensive teamwork development, or boring espionage classes she’d mastered in her youth.
Instead, Brooklyn would be learning how to handle situations and protocols for SHIELD
approved missions.

Since the Avengers were doing routine helicarrier safety training, Brooklyn would be joining
them to acquire that knowledge herself.

Prior to this day, Brooklyn had been sure those helicarrier machines had been destroyed, the
news had boosted about it long ago when HYDRA fell in a very public and expensive display
of Helicarriers destroying SHIELD’s previous headquarters.

Apparently, the existence of the remaining machine was only possible thanks to the Theta
Protocol led by Phil Coulson. It was an operation located in D.C. to secretly repair Helicarrier
No. 64 so that in case of a grave world emergency, it could be recommissioned. Now as an
agent in training, Brooklyn had to learn how to work within it in case of an emergency.

At first that hadn't seemed all that exciting....until they went down to the basement of the
Academy building and Brooklyn beheld the massive transport identical to those that had
destroyed the SHIELD base in Washington D.C.

It looked more majestic than she'd imagined them to be. A military base up in the skies, and
the fact that she was one of the few trusted to know of its existence made her hopeful that
perhaps these past few weeks she'd proven herself worthy to the Director at last...or maybe he
wanted to show off his technological superiority in case she ever thought to betray SHIELD.
When the teen had beheld the enormous flying structure that had been stored under the forest
surrounding the Compound this whole time, she had actually gawked for a few minutes until
Stark exited a nearby elevator and offered to head up with her. Help which Brook expected
considering this underground base looked like a massive construction factory she could easily
get lost in.

"Your grandfather actually helped design these," Tony had mentioned casually, then added
with a devilish smirk "but I perfected them, of course"

"Am I expected to contribute as well?" Brooklyn joked, "Because I'm thinking we could add
a bit more color, or you know, implement some of the elusive nano-tech to create more
efficient systems with less weight as well as adaptive abilities"

Stark put an arm around her shoulders, a gesture she no longer gawked at after four weekends
of family time under her belt. All of that time was spent reassuring her that Stark meant her
no harm.

With a smile that made Stark’s eyes glow, he exclaimed, "Everyday that passes I'm even more
sure you're my kid" to which she chuckled if only to hide the feeling of undiluted joy at the
words.

Steve had just descended down nearby steps with a wave their way as Brook replied, "Don't
be so appalled, I'm learning about nano tech in my Engineering class. I'm sure the vibranium
technology rising from Wakanda would be of even more help"

For whatever reason, Stark had still been impressed by her input.

After joining their little group, her otets and Grandpa Steve had pointed out a few of the
massive rooms within the Helicarrier as well as all the emergency equipment during their
small tour of the inside. Though Brook had paid attention to all those things, she was more
focused on the structure itself.

It was huge, built no doubt to be able to stay in the skies for long periods of time. It made her
wonder just what kinds of things she was getting into by not only joining SHIELD, but the
Avengers as well.

It wasn't until Natasha came in that the two widows were put under simulation training the
helicarrier provided while it took off for a routine fly-by over New York. She should've
started training right away, Adonis had certainly bickered about it, but the teen couldn't help
looking out the massive windows of the training room as the giant vehicle started its loud
engines and the hidden roof began to open up to reveal the afternoon skies.

It didn't take very long until the aircraft was up in the air, and it took even less time to set up
the SHIELD emergency protocol 193.6, which Brook learned meant the enactment of
reflective panels to make the ship invisible to those with their eyes up in the sky, as well as
tracking from anything flying about.

This technology was impressive, a huge testament to the bright minds of Howard and Tony
Stark, and SHIELD as a whole. Though she would not admit it to those in the room, this
particular outing cemented the sense that she was getting involved in something much bigger
than stopping petty criminals…something that hadn’t quite sunk in until then.

By the time Brook and Natasha had finished their usual sparring while she was being taught
and quizzed on the different codes of the ship by Adonis, the teen was let loose to explore
while the Avengers ran drills.

Still in her now familiar and comfortable SHIELD uniform, Brooklyn was blending in great
with the crowds on duty, but every passing agent had still recognized her by name. At this
point in time, everyone knew who Brooklyn Stark was, especially since she didn't avoid
people as much as she had at the beginning. It was actually some of those agents she saw in
passing that took the time to answer her questions about the workings of the ship in exchange
for silly things like autographs or photos with them. Though Brooklyn expressed her distaste
for cameras, most were willing to part with a signature from her.

Even when the Helicarrier was a maze in itself, Brooklyn found the lavish ship efficient in
every aspect. Back in the Red Room, there had been special classes on naval aviation for
working planes, helicopters, and such. Brook had only been able to finish the theoretical stuff
before she left, but something about being high up in the air like this was just as thrilling as
she'd imagined.

Though she'd been joking with Stark about contributing to the Helicarrier’s modifications as
her predecessors had, now the girl was swirling with ideas on how to improve it with some
modern adjustments. Her education from Midtown Tech was certainly useful in that regard.

By the time Brooklyn made it to the main bridge, all the other Avengers had finished their
own work and had gathered around a glass table overlooking all the control stations below.
Though she'd been reluctant to join, Clint and Dr. Banner had ushered her forward to sit by
them. Even after spending a few weekends with them and several meals during the week,
Brooklyn was still sometimes hesitant to be around the Avengers.

Not out of disgust or fear, just reluctance that maybe they may not enjoy her company.

They had all been patient with her, and slowly but surely, the girl had been more active at
family game nights, she'd even played alongside them last weekend when the team wanted to
have a football match. It was then that Brook learned football was more difficult than she'd
given Harry credit for. Though it was a contact sport, she had been too hesitant to hurt the
members so she'd gone easy on the tackles. That didn't mean Spider-man had been as careful
when he tackled her to the ground full force. Spidy was lucky he was not on this ship or she
might consider throwing him out of it after he’d wisely avoided being alone with her for a
week.

Now more at ease around her otets, Brooklyn accepted the pack of blueberries he offered her
as they sat down at the table. She didn't even consider them to be poisoned.

Just as she was about to join the conversation the Avengers were in the midst of about the
possible plan of using the Helicarrier to track down sea shipments of the alien weapons
without disturbing the Atlantians, Brook’s phone buzzed alive from the thigh pocket of her
black suit.
When she turned on the screen, the first thing she saw was a photo of Ned and Peter at the
Parker home with a finished Star Wars lego model.

Just as Brooklyn had come to ease around the Avengers, she had grown much closer to her
friends these past few weeks, to the point that receiving things like these were normal.

After watching all the Star Wars movies these past few weeks with the Avengers, the girl
could now appreciate the love those two had for the franchise. Even so, she thought it would
take them longer to finish the lego set that had kept them up into the late hours of the night
lately.

As quickly as she could, Brook replied.

Looks great guys. Sorry I couldn't be there to help, had a family thing to go to.

In seconds, the boys replied that she could join them next time. They were never suspicious
or mad when Brook had things to do in the afternoons or on the weekends when many of
them wanted to go places as a group.

Even when Brook now trusted them fully, she was obviously not allowed to tell them about
her SHIELD endeavors. As far as they were concerned Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays
were family days, not a completely wrong statement since the Avengers had become more
active in her training. Luckily the guys accepted her offer of going out for some coffee after
Decathlon practice tomorrow, that always seemed to lift their spirits. It certainly always
improved her mood when she went out with all her friends to all the places she may never
have bothered exploring once upon a time.

Seemingly impossible a few weeks ago, Brooklyn had already made plans to visit a popular
library with MJ, go to an actual movie theater with Ned and Peter, and visit a new boutique
with Tanya and Harry (that was bound to be interesting).

Brooklyn took the opportunity of being with her otets now to ask for permission for such
things. Unsurprisingly, when she did, the whole table gave their blessing as if she’d been
asking them too.

"I told you as long as there are no drugs, drinking, smoking, boyfriends, parties, or anything
relatively irresponsible you can go," Stark said, flipping through a small notebook he’d fished
out of his suit jacket, then murmured unsurely, "at least that's what the parenting books
said..."

Natasha leaned in close to whisper to Brook, "Just go out and have fun, you're going to a
library and a movie theater, what could be more innocent than that?"

It might be innocent to them, but to Brooklyn, it was huge steps towards her friendships as
well as first experiences. She'd never been to any of the three places her friends often
frequented, and when they'd asked her to go...well it had been a big deal not just because
they’d thought to include her, but because she trusted them enough to go places with them.
"Just don't forget to text if there are any problems. I'm still weary of criminals coming after
you again," Tony added, exasperatedly leaning back on his chair, "I think that was as close as
I've ever been to a heart attack"

The teen smirked, "In my defense, I think I handled that well. We have leads to find these
guys now as a result. Let them try and kill me again, we'll just have more evidence to gain
from it"

Her otets did not seem amused by the suggestion, made it very clear until the Helicarrier
finally landed, then some more until Brooklyn was getting ready to leave the Compound after
a round of pool with Sam and Rhodey.

"We're not chipping Brooklyn, Tony" Pepper chided softly to her fiancé as she helped Brook
put her coat on outside the doors of the Compound with the moon now high in the dark sky.

The man beside her sighed, "It's painless! What if she's in danger one day? That will be
painful for all of us!"

"I seriously doubt Fury would shed a single tear if I happened to disappear one day" Brook
added, nodding to a few passing agents who greeted her as per usual. Not as Brooklyn Stark,
but rather Agent Stark, the best of all the trainees…or so was her current reputation.

Both adults argued that Fury cared about everyone, just never showed it. The ex-assassin
found that incredibly hard to believe considering the Director had made her run eight miles
on Tuesday just because she called him Patchy the Pirate after he said she was once again
too violent in her attack moves. To be fair, he'd said so fifty-three times in one day despite the
fact that she'd been pulling her punches almost to the point of it becoming a danger to herself,
so he deserved it.

His picking on her almost sounded like vengeance for her past crimes at times.

"Brooklyn can take care of herself, right?" Pepper pressed, earning a nod from Brook as the
two fussed over the red scarf going around her neck. Something about the cold weather
always made Pepper worry, and Brooklyn knew better than to try and stop the woman’s
fussing about it.

At first, the frantic layering of clothes from Pepper had made the assassin nervous, but now
she found it endearing if not comforting. After all, previously to this, no one in her life had
cared if Brook froze to death…not in the Red Room or any day afterwards.

"Relax Pep, she's not going to freeze like Capsicle" Stark said, tugging Brook into a casual
embrace as Happy pulled up before them.

Like every time Brooklyn left the Compound on a weekday, the Avengers waved their
goodbyes from inside the building, and the teen always received one last hug from Pepper
and Stark before they let her into the car.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that Brook was attacked a few weeks back, but both adults
always whispered the same words that eased her troubled mind.
"We'll see you soon"

Though Brook had made some excellent progress these past few days, there were still many
things she could not accomplish…such as returning proper hugs, giving out thanks or
compliments with ease, and sometimes she found it difficult to reply to that statement.

Even if SHIELD instructors said Brook was improving tremendously, straying from the
wrong path of the Red Room, some part of her always remembered the kill in that lonely
alley and the many that came before that. Who knew if one day she'd have to leave, if more
assassins came after her and Brook had to disappear....it was unlikely, but thoughts of her
newfound happiness ending soon often worried her.

By definition, Brooklyn still wasn't a good person, even if she was trying to be one with all
her being.

In an effort to not grow frustrated with herself, the girl tended to reply with the best she could
do by saying, "I hope so"

She'd no doubt text the pair before bed, maybe even share a call during dinner, but after each
conversation there was never a goodbye with them. It's like the three of them refused to say it
because the words felt too damning, like calling upon bad fortune that would never let them
be together again as life used to be.

In fact, she refused to say those words to anyone she had grown to care for, even Happy.

As a common routine on the ride back to her loft, the Downton Abbey soundtrack Brooklyn
had most certainly memorized by now blasted during the three hour drive. Happy and Brook
kept an easy flow of conversation as per usual as well, time spent mostly bickering with each
other.

It wasn't until Brooklyn was dropped off into the darkness of the streets with a flashing
middle finger from Grumpy, when the girl finally made her way inside the warmth of her
apartment hallway, that she heard the pleasant voice that would never argue with her the way
Grumpy did.

Every time Brook returned from the Compound, Peter greeted her back even when it was
almost midnight. The boy in the striped blue pjs always stuck his head out the door when he
heard the doors to their floor close.

Usually, Brooklyn caught sight of his messy brown hair first, then his beaming smile when he
realized she'd returned safely. May had told Peter to check on her since he usually stayed up
late doing homework, even when Brooklyn assured him that wasn't necessary.

But after three weeks of this, the girl actually looked forward to it.

"Goodnight, Brook" Peter whispered, considerate as always to not wake up the other
neighbors.
 Like usual, Brooklyn went over to him and clutched the hand that held his door open, a
gesture of thanks before she too wished him a good night, and left with a promise to see him
in the morning.

His bright grin always made Brook smile through her nightly meal, even when she stayed up
investigating more on the weapons criminals or the assassin that had tried to kill her. It could
be one in the morning, and the girl was oftentimes still preoccupied with those tasks or even
more common ones such as homework or looking over Stark Industries documents.

Sure, she had many things going on in her life, but there was a certain balance to it all by
now.

Even when the occasional nightmare plagued her thoughts, Brooklyn always woke up to a
better world, one where FRIDAY was there to turn on the lights, coffee already warming in
the kettle, and soothing tunes flowing around the safety of her guarded apartment.

Now she had the promise of a brighter day no matter what her duties were.

Maybe she'd outsmart Flash during Decathlon practice tomorrow, or spend a little bit more
lunch money buying cookies for her friends. Either way, with the relative peace of no sudden
attacks towards her or anyone else after the recent weapon’s busts, all the girl had to focus on
was the more normal aspects of her life.

The relatively not-so-normal life of Brooklyn Stark.

Chapter End Notes

Down worry, school scenes will be coming soon! I didn't want things to be boring by
describing what's been going on at Midtown in the past four weeks which have been
relatively peaceful, but it felt like it was important to state that what comes next is a new
chapter of sorts.

That being said, oh boy...the next chapter is going to be very interesting.

(Cover art by Elithienart and made by Maisy)

 The Charity Gala
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Pepper POV-

"This is atrocious," Brook exclaimed sourly, "Why do they even have these things anyways?
The money spent making the galas could be used for the humanitarian causes these pocket-
wells spend their time discussing"

Pepper, seated in front of the young girl, couldn't help but smile.

The plane ride had been rather quiet for a few hours, and the only time conversation had
sprung up it had been from either her or Tony. Brook had remained in her plush seat with
headphones on and a pile of books scattered across her small table. The teen’s nose remained
buried in them for the duration of the flight, trying to soak up as much information on
weapon mechanics as possible.

Usually, young teenage girls would be busy looking at magazines of handsome actors and
singers as had certainly been the case for Pepper, but not for their Brooklyn.

A few days ago, the girl had asked for more information on weapon manufacturing to better
understand how the alien weapons could function, and better yet, how to stop them. She'd
argued if one of the alien missiles was discovered, or a bomb was found, she’d further
information from her Red Room knowledge to do her job well. Luckily, Stark Industries had
once been a weapons manufacturing company, and Tony had a rooms worth of beginner's
knowledge stashed away from his college days.

Glancing beside her, Pepper noted that Tony already had his eyes on his daughter, eyes full of
amusement that were such a contrast to the way he would look at her when all of this
parenting journey began. Now that the two had made peace of sorts, they actually tended to
make the other laugh quite often with their snarky attitudes.

It was rare to see Brooklyn so calm and focused on something that wasn't a fight. Even Tony
seemed to have enjoyed the quiet time they'd gotten before the flight attendant had
announced they'd arrive at Metropolis in a few minutes.

Now with the absence of knowledge, Brooklyn seemed to be reminded as to why she was
shoved onto a private jet for a weekend getaway. Like the hours before the plane took off, the
poor teen had done her best to mask the nervousness she felt, hiding the weariness of this
being her first public appearance as a Stark in front of all the media…and the world.

Not that she could blame the child, not when word had spread like wildfire these past few
hours since Stark Industries announced the young heiress would be attending a notable event.
Though silent and focused on her work for most of the flight, Pepper had caught Brooklyn
scavenging the internet to see what people had to say about it.
The woman could only imagine how nerve-racking this must be, and on such short notice
too. Originally the plan had been for Tony and Pepper to go alone as they'd agreed on weeks
ago, but then the press got talking…and the original plan had to be changed.

Since many of the Avengers were away on missions and wouldn't be able to spend the day
with Brooklyn, Tony had decided it was a good idea to bring the girl along. Pepper had been
ecstatic to spend more time with Brook—especially since they'd been bonding so well
recently—but she couldn't help but worry at the same time.

There would be a lot of people there who'd have their company's future in mind when they
beheld the young Stark, and from what the woman had observed, Brooklyn was not a big fan
of cameras or people’s attention.

Ever since Brooklyn heard the announcement of the imminent landing, she'd tried to hide her
fear with comments about the event. It was a valiant effort, and though Pepper wanted to let
the girl know it was ok to show her true emotions around them, she figured right now might
not be the best time to press about it.

Pepper gently pulled Tony's attention from his concerned staring, and when the two adults
locked eyes, she urged him to try and do something to calm his daughter. So Tony set down
his shades and threw his daughter a bag of M&Ms from the nearby limousine compartment,
which the teen caught with barely any effort, keeping her eyes on the phone in hand she
clutched like a lifeline.

"Relax kiddo, it will only be for a few hours then we'll be on our way back home," Tony said
with a smile that he likely hoped looked encouraging, "Besides these things are set up so that
investors can donate even more money than what the party is worth. There is a purpose to it,
a reason why we put up with all the attention and the drama"

The young girl rolled her eyes, but still opened the bag of candy and popped a few into her
mouth. Looking at the two adults before her, Brooklyn quirked a brow.

"It's the opening of a new art gallery, how is that anything worth investing in?" Brook
inquired.

Pepper straightened, setting her own work folder on the table in the middle of the space while
resting a comfortable hand on Tony's thigh, "The event will be held in the Metropolis Art
Gallery to create buzz about its opening. The Benefit Gala is to provide funds for the alien
attack of last year"

"You mean the attack from that creepy villain with horns that attacked the East Coast? I
thought their Justice League took care of it and all was happy since then" said Brooklyn, "Is
this about property damage for the civilians?"

Both adults nodded. Though each major company had already donated a more than generous
amount to the cause, events like these that were publicized worldwide oftentimes encouraged
other companies and civilians to make their own donations. Having the representatives of
Stark Industries there was all the more important for that reason.
Brooklyn popped another candy into her mouth, relaxing against the couch seat as she said
with a smile, "Good thing you and the Avengers were too busy fighting amongst yourselves, I
heard that fight was insane. Even Superman came out for retirement for that crap"

Tony pouted, "We could've handled it better!"

There it was again…the animosity between heroes that Pepper had never understood. Though
she’d always supposed that even if the Avengers and Justice League never mingled, it
mattered very little considering both groups were working hard to keep the world safe. She
only hoped there never came a time when all of Earth’s strongest had to team up to fight an
enemy stronger than those they’d already seen.

Fears that had increased now that Brooklyn would no doubt stand amongst them to face
whatever evil came.

Unaware of Pepper’s worries, the teen simply rolled her eyes, "Are you guys even excited to
go to this event? Harry has told me time and time again that these things are boring beyond
compare. He literally just told me he'd taking a nap all day so he has the energy to deal with
everyone"

Pepper smiled, her previous nerves eased by the simple words. Just knowing that Brook was
getting more comfortable around the idea of friends always seemed to brighten the woman's
day, whoever mundane that thought might be to others.

"I like the drinking, dancing with Pep, but there ARE many things I hate about such public
events" Tony said, all but throwing his sunglasses on the table as a sudden thought struck
him, "Not to mention, Wayne will be there and that's always a misfortune. He helped
organize the whole thing, that son of a bitch"

Brooklyn frowned, "You mean that man who's almost as rich as you, the man from criminal
central? Harry told me about Wayne Industries, said you and Mr. Wayne were enemies in
business"

Flashbacks of the past fifteen years swirled in Pepper's mind. All the galas, events, grand
openings, even CEO conferences. She almost sighed at the thought of yet another encounter
between the two, especially when they had become few in between since Tony took up the
role of Iron Man.

Since the first moment Tony and Mr. Wayne met, they'd hated each other, there was no other
word to describe it. Pepper hadn’t been there to witness that moment, but it was something
everybody knew.

Despite the similarities between them, such as their large and influential businesses they ran,
the massive fortunes they possessed from their family names, even having to grow up
without parents...they were polar opposites. While Tony was playful, wild, and very much a
social man...Bruce Wayne was quiet, calculating, and had a frowning resting face that
discouraged most people from getting close to him. Where one was the image of flashy
wealth, the other was classic riches.
They’d both taken up the personas of wealthy individuals who spent their money carelessly,
slept around with many women, and led their companies differently than their predecessors
since a young age. Pepper, like everyone else, had always assumed that maybe a friendship
would bloom in those early adulthood days, that perhaps the generational hatred towards each
other was nothing more than influence from their parents and having sensitive tempers as
children.

It had all been nothing more than wishful thinking that never came to pass.

Though it was often that Stark Industries and Wayne Enterprises gave back to the community
in similar ways, which Pepper knew very well since she helped run the company for years, at
each event in which they both found themselves in…the two would glare, bicker, and she
often heard an essay's long speech about how awful Bruce was once she and Tony finally left
the lavish festivities.

Her fiancé took great pride in being Iron Man, and often shoved that in Mr.Wayne's face
whenever they had to interact as a way to one up him. Luckily, Mr. Wayne was not a fighter,
and just took the words with a stoic expression, but he did make many comebacks about the
flaws of Avengers whenever he had the chance.

In terms of will and determination, both were equally matched.

In every aspect, business or not, the two always competed. After decades of such things
happening, peace nowhere in sight, even the many who had hoped that the two orphaned
CEOs would become friends one day, including Pepper, knew it just wasn't possible.

Today would be yet another chapter in the large book that was the hatred between Starks and
Waynes, a book spanning many generations…which tonight would add another. If Pepper’s
memory of the guest list was correct, Mr. Wayne would also be bringing his own heir to the
party, meaning there was no way both teenagers of opposing families wouldn’t meet.

Pepper considered taking an aspirin before the car arrived just by the thought alone.

"Can you at least try to not pick a verbal fight with Mr. Wayne tonight, Tony? It's Brooklyn's
first gala and we need to set a good example" Pepper begged…but as she'd expected, Tony
simply scoffed, placing a hand on his chest before turning to his puzzled daughter.

Brooklyn asked, "Do I even want to know why you hate that guy so much? It seems like
everyone knows something I don’t, and I’m really starting to regret not paying attention to
celebrity drama all these years"

Oh...here we go...

"I remember one time my dad took me to one of these over-the-top galas. I was around six at
the time, and fourteen year old Bruce Wayne managed to piss me off from then on without
our parents even having to lift a finger. Just because our parents had been business rivals and
well-known enemies, the bratty teen decided we should be as well. Never one to back down
from a challenge, I gladly obliged" Tony complained, then pointed a finger to Brook, "So stay
as far away from the Waynes as much possible. He has some kids as well, and though I’ve
thankfully never had to talk to them for more than a second, I just know he probably raised
them to be just like him"

Pepper sighed, "Lets just hope the Stark-Wayne rivalry ended with you and Bruce. Though
knowing Brook, she'll gladly take up the mantle, won’t she?"

The teen before Pepper smirked, going back to her phone, "Harry said he has a son our age,
and that he is the greatest stone-faced moron in the universe. That's good enough for me to
stay away from him and his family"

Tony wiped an invisible tear away and leaned forward to pat her shoulder as he said, "That's
my girl"

Even as the private jet began to descend, Pepper already knew this would be a long day,
because that simple gesture and the twin smirks the two shared seemed an awful lot like the
passing of a torch.

Brooklyn POV-

Brook had never been on a limousine before, had never even thought it a possibility
considering the levels of poverty she lived in for many years. The private jet had been a
surprise too, but modes of transformation and the world she was about to face were different
things to experience in such little time.

Even after getting used to the luxurious life that came with being a Stark, Brook had never
considered such a day of this enormity would come.

Outside, the city of Metropolis was alive and thriving under the night sky, the same one that
often seemed to have a well known superhero flying by it. Large buildings lit up the streets
outside beautifully, and Brook noticed a few passerby's gawking at the passing limousine. In
their defense, Brook might've too had she seen such a luxurious vehicle passing by.

Thankfully, the inside of the limousine was much less chaotic.

While Happy sat on the passenger seat, overseeing there was no funny business from the
driver or dangers on the streets, Pepper and her otets were nursing a glass of brandy as they
lounged on the leather couch before Brook.

Stark claimed he would need the drink to get through the night, and Pepper had seemed to
agree. While Brook had only been granted a class full of soda, she was more concerned with
not spilling it on her dress rather than the flavor.

It had taken hours to get this dressed up, she'd be damned if the efforts went to waste....

"I heard Hugh Jones is coming as well," her father said, tapping his thin glass-strip of a phone
against the black fabric of his suit.

"Who's that?" asked Brook, taking her eyes away from the interesting building in the distance
with a giant world-like sphere revolving at its top. A building that was taller than many of
those around it, almost like it was the center of this foreign city.

It was Pepper who answered, "He's the owner of Roxxon Oil, though I think they rebranded
themselves as Roxxon Energy Corporation recently. He's a very wealthy man with a
successful company. Right now, he actually owns most of the oil distribution in the west"

Interesting.

Perhaps this evening would be as dreadful as Harry had explained, but at least she'd learn
more about the world she’d have to immerse herself in or risk falling behind and future CEO.
Luckily, Brook's identity had been revealed prior to one of the biggest events of the year…
leaving her no time to pull files on all the attendees and information on all their companies.

She’d be going to this event unprepared, relying only on Stark and Pepper to show her the
ropes…and maybe Harry if he bothered to show at all.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder, "How come every wealthy person of importance is going?
I get that this is for a good cause and all, but I would think some CEOs would have better
things to do"

Her otets laughed, "Of course they do! Most hate these galas as much as you already do, but
not showing up to events like this looks bad in the eyes of the press. Think of it like the peer
pressure of public attendance, no one wants to be there but they have to otherwise they are
singled out"

Looking to make sure the window separating the driver's space from theirs was closed, Brook
realized it was safe to speak freely. She sank further into her seat, playing with her cream-
colored acrylic nails as she stated, "If I were an assassin, which I am, I'd use these fancy
events to take out influential people by the dozens. Are we sure this is even safe?"

Both adults looked to each other, then back at her with perfect synchronization. A move only
the most insufferable of perfect couples could do as she’d come to realize. But it wasn’t
annoyance in their eyes at her perfectly valid concern…no, they were hiding something.

"Others might think just like you," Stark said, "Natasha and Clint intercepted a message from
some secret channels used by the criminal world. We think there might be someone here that
knows about the alien weapons, might even use one tonight"

Suddenly everything made sense. Why Stark had pulled her out of school on a Friday with
such urgency, why they hadn’t bothered to wait to introduce her to society until she was
ready for it. This wasn’t just about introducing her to the world of the rich and famous, this
was about needing her skills and thinking to prevent a possible disaster.

With the Avengers gone on their separate missions, she was likely the only backup Stark
could bring that wouldn’t be suspicious.

Though he hadn't said it out loud, this might very well be Brooklyn's first mission as an
agent, one she wasn’t entirely sure if she was ready for considering she’d be navigating the
role of being a Stark as well. But the Red Room had prepared Brook to face worse odds than
these, and she’d be damned if such a simple mission became too much for her to handle.

Not to mention, Stark and Pepper would be in that building and if something happened they’d
likely pay the price along with everyone else in attendance. The reasons why the criminals
would want to target the gala could be pondered later, right now, all that mattered was
ensuring the event went by without a hitch.

"So we find the criminal, then we leave?" she asked hopefully, only to receive a pointed stare
from Pepper.

"Finding the criminal is only half your job here, the SHIELD part. As a Stark, you have the
additional job of dealing with your first official public appearance" her otets said, sticking out
his tongue in a mocking gesture to ease the truth of his words.

Right...

During the flight, Brooklyn had dared to take a peek at social media. The news of her
presence at the Metropolis Art Gallery had already spread, and many showed unnecessary
excitement at the prospect of learning more about her.

Idiots, all of them. But it meant that all eyes would be on her, and any flaws she revealed
would be publicized for the world to pick apart and use against her. Just as she couldn’t
afford to fail as an agent tonight, she couldn't slack as Stark’s daughter either.

"So I have to play nice then? Be a pleasant little heiress to entertain the wealthy and the
masses," Brook said, sighing in defeat, "at least knowing a murderer might be on the loose
will make things exciting"

Stark moved over to her couch and after taking a seat beside Brook, threw an arm over her
stiff shoulders.

"Don't worry, kiddo. Peps and I will do most of the talking, the kids aren't pestered all that
often with questions, even the press isn't that cruel. You know Harry will be there, and I was
told Lex's kid is going as well. You lot can enjoy your time at the kids table if hanging out
with your old man is not cool enough for you"

Veselo. Hilarious.

"Harry already mentioned the LexCorp family was insane, don't count on me hanging out
with them" she replied, earning another frown from Pepper. But that one was soft, as if in
understanding and concern.

"They aren't insane, just...passionate about everything. Lex Jr. always seemed like a decent
kid to me" Pepper said, trying and failing to hide a nervous wince.

Stark seemed to have no qualms expressing how he truly felt.

"On second thought, maybe don't hang out with them. At least the old man from Pym Tech
won't show up, I heard he's a criminal nowadays. Hank always seems to have it out for any
Stark since my dad pissed him off somehow, and though he’s likely pushing ninety that man
has quite the temper"

"Great," Brook exclaimed to herself, "more rich enemies to keep in mind"

"You know exactly why Mr. Pym is a wanted man," Pepper countered, "Arresting Scott
brought attention to him and his technology, he’s on the run because of all this mess with the
Accords"

Tony merely shrugged, then turned to Brook with an encouraging smile.

"Maybe just stay by our side today, kiddo. Not only are you a shiny new toy, but with all
these unpleasant people out there, I don't want anyone to get hurt"

"Like those rich brats could hurt me" the ex-assassin countered, touching up her red lipstick
as the car came to a stop.

Her otets squeezed her shoulder briefly, "I wasn't exactly talking about them"

Both burst out laughing at the prospect of many of those people ending up on their asses by
her hands, and poor Pepper looked like she was already done with the night. Despite the
laughter, Brook understood fighting of any kind with these people was forbidden, not just
because Brooklyn Stark wasn’t supposed to be that kind of person…but also because she had
a mission to contend with.

As Brook stepped out of the vehicle she'd been very reluctant to exit for a few seconds,
instant flashes of light caught her eyes in a blinding wave. Dozens of cameras were already
pointed their way, and multiple questions were shouted at once from the sidelines of the red
carpet leading into the Art Gallery. Questions directed at them, her name shouted between
sentences.

Standing between Pepper and Tony, Brook tried her best to not flinch at every camera flash
that met her path. She'd decided to focus on not looking as nervous as she felt, smiling as
much as possible.

Even quite a distance away from the entrance, the teen could already hear the strings and
piano keys playing from inside the enormous building before her that resembled a small
palace rather than a museum. The colorful array of fireworks and spotlights from the outside
were even more distracting.

This was not what she'd expected at all...bigger crowds and massive displays of riches she
had not even begun to imagine.

The Gallery itself had to be around five stories high, and its outside structure was as elegant
as a historic church, made of the most resplendent white stone and with windows as tall as
entire floors. There were several beams of lights of various colors flashing on its front walls,
occasionally passing by the large letters at its center, proudly engraved in dark stone.
Metropolis Art Gallery

Through its many windows, lights from massive chandeliers could be seen like beacons of
warm light, but the windows were too high up for Brook to be able to actually see anyone
inside.

On the sides of the building, masses of people stood with industrial cameras as well as
handheld ones, all focused across the expanse of red carpeted entrance. In the winding path
before her, a couple dressed in lavish clothes were making their way along with linked arms,
ignoring the press as they made their way inside the large open doors whose entrance looked
like a delicate petal lined with delicate colored glass.

As soon as she'd exited the limousine, Brook had tried to keep a pleasant expression in place,
her posture proper, and her hands away from the Stark watch hidden beneath one of her
bracelets.

Having no experience with these sorts of events, the ex-assassin took great care to copy all
Pepper was doing. After all, the woman had promised to be Brook's steading rock today, and
so far that promise had been kept.

When Pepper and Tony stopped at the foot of the red carpet, wrapping an arm around Brook's
frame, she got the hint that this was meant to be a chance for the cameras to snap their
photos.

All those eyes on her were trouble enough, and it didn't help that this was her first time
wearing something expensive, a foreign feeling along her body. The red dress and diamond
jewelry were chosen by Pepper, special gifts for her first event, but they felt like a different
skin despite their comfortable quality.

Maybe it was the fact that the bracelets, necklace, and earrings she wore had diamonds worth
the value of this building, or that her dress—however beautiful—had such voluminous skirts
that if a fight were to arise, she wouldn’t even be able to run properly. One thing was for sure,
at this point in her life, the discomfort did not come from being ashamed of being a Stark.
Sure Brooklyn was a little weary she couldn't live up to the name, but it was no longer
unbearable to think of herself being seen with her otets.

If anything, his presence felt like a steading comfort. A reminder of what she could be,
granting Brook the ability to leech off the confidence he always displayed.

So she let herself smile, imagining the things that made her happy instead of the dangers she
could encounter inside or what people’s opinions could be. Brooklyn's mind wandered to her
friends back in Queens, who were likely watching her on the news right now as they'd
promised in what they described to be a supportive gesture.

Brook also let her mind drift to the Avengers back in the compound, all of which had
promised her a good meal for when she returned. Even thoughts of Spider-man raised her
spirits, mostly because he had suggested they all go see a Broadway show as soon as
everyone returned from their missions. It wasn't a horrible idea, even for an idiot like him.
A delicious meal and the company of the Avengers awaited her, all she had to do was make it
out of this, both alive and with her dignity intact. The teen focused on all that was awaiting
her far from this social event, and almost let out a sigh of relief when Pepper and Tony took
one of her arms each and began leading her inside. Happy, ever their bodyguard, walked
tentatively behind them as they glided along the carpet but soon went off to join a cluster of
guards after whispering a reassurance that they would be alright in there.

Of course he'd abandon them...Happy would likely watch her suffer from social anxiety with
a smile on the sidelines and enjoy every second of it.

Thankfully, her childhood training had made Brooklyn confident in her skills and body,
things that even her black Christian Loubotin heels couldn't shake as she sauntered down the
boisterous carpet, letting her crimson dress sway freely with her movements.

She wouldn't fall, wouldn't let herself falter a single step of the way.

Once at the mouth of the large doors, the temperature instantly became a warm comfort.
Brook stood in the middle carpeted hallway now, both sides leading to lavish hallways with
paintings in golden frames and men in blue suits standing guard. It took all but a few seconds
for Brooklyn to realize none of them looked suspicious at first glance.

Focus now away from her surroundings, Brook noticed the couple before the Starks was not
going either of those ways, they were standing before the marble stairs that led down to a
large room where everyone was already socializing. The center for all the music and voices
that could barely be heard from the mouth of the building.

From her place behind the strangers, the sight of the area below was far greater than
Brooklyn could've possibly imagined, with those large chandeliers she’d spotted outside
looming over the high ceiling of clear domes and white pillars, making the cream colored
walls accented with gold twinkle like it was snowing specs of gentle light.

On the actual dance floor in the middle of the room, there were already many couples
swaying to the sound of the classical music, all dressed in as much finery as the Starks had
with gowns and suits only the highest of society could ever hope to afford. On the sidelines,
strangers were busy discussing amongst each other, some seated at the many round tables that
surrounded the room decorated with white mantles and over-the-top floral arrangements.

Doing a quick scan of the place below, Brooklyn counted six balconies that led to gardens
along the sides of the building, all guarded by security. At the far end of the room on a raised
platform much like the one Brook stood on now, there lay two closed entrances, perhaps even
an emergency exit behind the large American flag along its wall.

Too bad the orchestral band was situated there, otherwise Brook would've gone to take a peek
just to make sure an assassin couldn't arrive through there. The windows were too high to
climb over, almost as high as the chandlers, but that didn't mean someone couldn't drop in
from them.

Something to consider since she hadn’t even been able to find the layout of the place online.
Brooklyn was snapped away from her routine scanning when a man in a lavish dark green
suit, like the ones all the waiters and assisting staff below seemed to be wearing, began
scanning the tablet in hand.

The couple that had walked before them stood by said man, waiting for something.

Suddenly, the man's loud voice echoed across the space, "Announcing Mr. Reed Richards and
Mrs. Sue Richards"

The couple descended down the steps as the crowd below and began to clap, some while
continuing their previous conversations or starting new hushed whispers amongst them at the
sight of the descending couple. Others didn't even bother to turn to see the new arrivals.

Once they were probably half way down, Stark and Pepper ushered her forward to stand at
the top of the stairs of golden banisters and a rug of red and black designs that was so
reminiscent of the kind Ivan liked to keep in his office.

Brook had silently hoped those below would show them the same minimal attention as the
Richards couple before them, but as soon looked up and caught their eye, they nudged others’
attention...and soon enough the large ball room below, an ocean of hundreds of people,
waited with visible excitement.

The herald sent a quick bow their way, not needing to scan his Wayne Enterprises tablet as he
announced loudly to the revelers below, "Announcing Mr. Anthony Stark, Ms Virginia Potts,
and Miss Brooklyn Stark"

Clinging to her company, Brooklyn descended the steps as carefully as possible, ignoring the
almost deafening sounds from the clapping below, as well as the hushed whispering she could
already see happening amongst many social circles.

She had to remind herself that these were just people, nothing more. They could not damage
her physically or mentally, not when they had no idea who was in their midsts.

On the bright side, there were no cameras inside. If she fell down these endless stairs, no one
from the outside world would have the evidence thanks to the no phones policy. That didn’t
mean she wouldn't try her best to at least fake a good first impression, with the way everyone
was staring up at them, one would think they were royalty.

Once at the bottom of the large stairs, clusters of people slowly inched closer to them. They
were like vultures waiting for a meal, no doubt enticed by learning more about the secret
heiress of Tony Stark.

This was much worse than her first day of school...by far.

Thankfully, the ones who arrived to greet the Starks first were the couple that was announced
before them, effectively making all others retreat to the sidelines until they could pounce.

The man seemed pleasant enough at first glance, seemingly as uncomfortable as Brook felt.
He had graying hair on the sides of his head, but looked around the same age as her otets,
maybe a few years older. The partner hanging from his arm was a beautiful woman with silky
blonde hair and kind eyes.

Just like Pepper and Tony, this couple had chosen to match their outfits. Brook wondered if
that was a common practice in these sorts of events. While Pepper and Tony were matching
with a red and gold theme for her dress and his tie (a theme Brook had been roped into as
well)...the couple now smiling before her were matching as well, but with a shared shade of
midnight blue.

It certainly complimented them well, made the two seem even friendlier.

Most of Brooklyn's apprehensions vanished as soon as she realized her two companions were
not faking their smiles and neither were the Richards. They in fact, knew one another.

"Reed!" Tony greeted, breaking away from Brook's hold to clasp arms with the man. They
greeted each other like old friends, while Pepper and the woman shared a quick embrace and
kiss on the cheek.

"How's the aerospace project going?" her father asked, earning a tired laugh from the man
apparently named Reed. A familiar name Brooklyn couldn’t quite place amidst her
nervousness.

"It's showing promising results, but we still have a long way to go," Mr. Richards answered,
turning his curious attention down towards Brook, who awkwardly stood off to the side.

"I heard about your daughter Tony, it's Brooklyn, right?" he asked, extending a hand her way.

Brooklyn accepted it and nodded, remembering she had to be on good behavior for the sake
of the company.

Mrs Richards also stepped forward to embrace Brook and place a kiss on her cheek, which
almost made the girl bolt away. But physical contact, which she'd been so apprehensive of for
safety reasons all her life, had become a normality thanks to her friends and family. Whatever
reaction Brooklyn from a few months ago would’ve had, was now nowhere in sight.

The woman began complimenting the ex-assassin's hair and make-up (which Brooklyn had
only allowed Pepper to do at the hotel since she didn't trust the hired make-up artists one bit).
The loose curls of her hair-do and the red lipstick she’d finally allowed back on her lips did
make Brook feel like her beauty had been enhanced by Pepper's skilled eye.

She supposed the unusual additions of having curled lashes and a delicate blush to her cheeks
were a welcome change too. The golden pins holding the top half of her hair into a neat bun,
her contribution to the gold in the Stark color matching, were actually quite useful
considering they could be used as weapons on a bind. Not that anyone here would suspect her
of thinking so.

"You should bring Brooklyn to the Baxter Building some time to hang out with Franklin"
Mrs Richards said, happily clinging to her husband's side as she spoke to Tony and Pepper.
"Isn't he in Westchester County? I thought he went to school at Xavier's?" Pepper asked.

The woman nodded, "Since we're hard at work at Baxter with the project and the school is
also in New York, he comes to stay the night some days. We had to fight the professor tooth
and nails to let that particle exception possible"

The adults shared a laugh, one Brooklyn didn’t understand seeing as she had no idea where
Westchester was exactly or what Xavier’s school was. Maybe it was a school for elite
children of this society, the place Brooklyn might’ve been forced to attend if she hadn’t
instead of a place to lay low to begin with.

"How is baby Valeria then?" Pepper asked, which sparked a conversation amongst the
women about the hardships of caring for newborns. Meanwhile, Mr. Richards began a
conversation with Brook that didn’t feel forced or as if he was probing for information to
exploit later.

If only because Pepper and her otets seemed to like these people, Brooklyn allowed it,
making sure her smile was bright and that her posture was as poised as possible.

"This is your first time at a gala, right?" he asked, to which Brook nodded, testing the waters.

"Next time we'll bring our son to keep you company so the adults don't pester you, don't
worry. And know that you're welcome to stop by our building anytime you want" the man
said.

He meant it too, she realized.

When Brook noticed Tony wasn't alarmed nor concerned by the offer, she accepted and
thanked Reed Richards for his concern.

In the end, both couples promised to keep in touch, maybe meet up at some point during the
month to catch up on everything which led Book to believe that perhaps meetings like that
had once been common and not centered around business of any kind.

When the couple left to greet others amongst the masses, Brooklyn whispered to Stark, "Who
were they anyways?"

Tony chuckled at the weariness of her tone, but whispered back, "Reeds is probably one of
the only men in the world who I'll admit might be as much of a genius as I am. He has
eighteen doctorates!"

That explained the graying hair then.

"How do you know him?" she asked, watching as other people began to approach them
slowly and hesitantly.

Tony and Pepper didn't seem to notice those ready to pounce, in fact, Stark was relaxed
enough to reply casually, "I've known Reed since my school days at MIT, but we met up
again when they were admitting their son into a mutant school at the same time we were
enrolling Wanda"
Wanda…as in Wanda Maximoff currently away on admission, went to a mutant school?
Those kinds of places were only a myth, a rumor created by the appearance of the so called
X-men, mutants that sparked such controversy thanks to that Mutant Registration crap the
government had put into place a few years back when the existence of enhanced humans
could no longer remain as a silly superstition.

Before Brook could ask further about Wanda going to such a place, the next group of people
had reached them. A group that by the looks of all others that moved aside to let them pass,
had some sway and superiority amongst them.

A tall man, a delicate smiling woman, and a slouching teen.

Unlike the last couple, this one didn't seem as friendly, and at first glance made Brooklyn feel
uneasy. Maybe it was the man's wide smile, or the teen’s far away look, but something about
them had Brook subtly keeping a hand close to her wrist just in case.

"Goodness! Ever since you became an Avenger we've rarely had time to meet up!" the bald
man said before enthusiastically shaking her otets' hand for perhaps a little longer than was
appropriate. The action made Brooklyn's protective instincts activate, urging her to stand
closer to Stark in case of any altercation.

Tony seemed a little less enthusiastic about greeting this man, not as calm as when he met up
with the Richards couple. When the crazy stranger caught sight of Brook, he quite literally
jumped up in excitement, startling her slightly.

He quickly let go of her otets’ hand and reached out and shook her own vigorously, a few
more times than necessary. It was when he did so that Brooklyn noticed he had a golden old-
fashioned ring resting atop his pinky, one with the letter L engraved into it.

"My, you must be the other Stark! You're like an extinct species, the youngest of the lot, but
you have your dad's eyes!" the man exclaimed happily, almost making Brook's pleasant mask
falter.

The man suddenly stopped his hand shaking, gently hitting the side of his head, "How rude of
me, I’d almost forgotten you don’t know who I am, it really is surreal that we’ve never met
before! My name is Lex Luthor, but you can call me Uncle Lex"

So THESE were the crazy people Harry had mentioned, the ones she was supposed to keep
her distance from. Brooklyn tried to not let that realization show as she retrieved her hand
back, convincing her mind not to break his arm instead.

Like hell she'd ever call this man something as close as uncle. That privilege was reserved for
the members of the Avengers, who as much as she hated to admit it, were the closest thing
she had to family aside from the couple standing behind her.

"My name is Brooklyn," she replied pleasantly, "It's nice to meet you, sir"

Mr Luthor laughed, catching the attention of the people around them doing a poor job in
pretending not to listen, "Everyone knows that, dear! You're the talk of the town! Speaking of
which, let me present my son, Lex Jr."

The quiet teen stepped forward as if summoned, combing back his chestnut brown hair
before taking her hand and raising it up slightly to kiss its surface. An ancient gesture of
formality Brook thought had died out. She’d almost flinched at the contact, but managed to
keep herself in check.

The teen before her looked like he was attempting a smile, but ultimately, the ex-assassin
realized the most pleasant part of his attributes were his green eyes, which were not as crazed
as his father's.

After hugging Pepper, Lex Luthor turned back to the lot of them with a smirk, "Aren't the
kids lovely? I sense a romance brewing!" he said, motioning between the two teens who'd
just retreated back to their families.

Despite the ridiculous statement, Tony let out a strained laugh nonetheless, pulling Brooklyn
closer to him discreetly. She let him, only because Brook would be able to better stand
between the two men, effectively protecting her otets that way if need be.

The young Luthor didn't react to his father's words, but instead clung back to his mother's
side who seemed calm despite the flamboyance of her husband. Meaning this was common
behavior for him...

"I don't believe I'm ready for my daughter to start dating yet, Lex. But your son has grown up
a lot since I last saw him, he's almost as tall as you" Stark said, trying to salvage the
conversation with a grace and friendliness Brook envied, especially because it was fake.

Her father must've mastered the skill after many nights like these.

Mr. Luthor beamed at the words and clung to his son, mumbling nonsense about his rapid
growth spurt these past few months as if the teen had done so of his own will. Meanwhile, his
son looked like he was slowly shutting down from boredom or perhaps trying to hide his own
discomforts.

Brooklyn was already dreading having to deal with Luthor for longer than she already had,
that is until she heard her name screamed enthusiastically from somewhere behind them, for
once not a whispered word between these masses.

As she suspected, the familiar voice belonged to none other than Harry, who she could spot
making his way over, clad in a gray suit with a man by his side of similar attire. Unlike the
two men Brook had met so far, the one beside Harry was taller, and looked more stern.

Said man didn't react when Harry broke into a slow jog, clumsily weaving between clusters
of people before crashing into Brooklyn, giving her one of his usual hugs that because of his
stature, always ended up lifting her off the ground. No longer bewildered by them, the ex-
assassin just patted his back fondly in return.

"I was worried you'd bail!" Harry said after setting Brook back on her feet, shooting her a
lighthearted grin as he added, "But look at you, all dressed up like Cinderella at the ball! Red
is definitely your color"

Over Harry’s shoulder, Brooklyn noticed that the man Harry had come with, possibly his
father, walked up to her otets and shook his hand calmly, then proceeded to do the same with
Pepper.

"Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts," Mr Osborn said, "It's a pleasure to see you again after our business
agreement. I received the documents a week ago, just in time"

Seeming to remember there were others around them, Harry quickly straightened his suit
jacket and went to greet her dad with a firm handshake and a serious expression Brook was
most certain he wouldn't be able to hold out for long.

"Look at you, kid. All grown up as well. You lot of teenagers are making me feel old" her dad
exclaimed, earning a laugh from everyone in their vicinity.

"It's great to see you again, Mr. Stark. Sorry for that fiasco, but your daughter and I go to the
same school, we're friends" Harry said, shooting her a playful smirk that she silently rolled
her eyes at. If there was one thing Harry enjoyed, it was flamboyant.

Stark nodded, "She's told me actually, but I had no idea you went to school in Queens
otherwise I would’ve asked you to make sure my daughter was looked after. But I’m glad
you two became friends on your own"

Harry nodded while quickly rushing back to Brook’s side, and despite the fact that it seemed
like everyone was staring, he still leaned on her shoulder with staged puppy eyes, "You talked
about me to your father? I'm honored"

She flicked his nose, sending Harry into a fit of chuckles.

Had it not been for her high alert as soon as she’d exited the limo, Brooklyn might not have
noted the way Mr. Luthor's eye began to twitch oddly at that moment. That despite said odd
behavior, his crazed smile remained as he let out a series of laughs.

"Wonderful! Little Stark and Little Osborn. It's great when people come together!" Mr.
Luthor said, shaking both of the Osborn's hands, after which Harry leaned in and whispered,
"I told you so"

Brooklyn couldn't agree more, there were some bolts loose on Mr. Luthor’s brain for sure.

Said man looked like he was about to go on another odd tangent to keep them tethered to his
attention, but Brooklyn's belief in possible merciful deities was momentarily restored when
Luthor was cut off mid breath.

The voice of the herald at the top of stairs spoke up once again to announce yet another guest,
his voice booming with the entrance that would change the course of her night.

Everyone began whispering before Brook and the people around her turned back to see who'd
arrived, at which point the teen actually heard her dad whisper a curse grandpa Steve would
not approve of. She might’ve mocked him for it, but upon seeing who stood atop the massive
staircase, she was rendered speechless.

"Announcing Mr. Bruce Wayne, Mrs. Selina Wayne, Mr. Richard Grayson, Mr. Timothy
Drake, and Mr. Damian Wayne"

What a large party....and probably amongst the best looking in the whole room, as in
sculpted-by-gods good looking. At least that's what she would’ve focused on had a certain
last name not been ringing in the back of her head. The last name of her family enemies.

At last, she could put a face to the name…those were the Waynes.

The man at the top of the stairs, also known as her father's oldest enemy, was a tall man with
a muscular yet elegant build that was far too good for a CEO who probably just sat in an
office all day. His raven locks helped accentuate those bright blue eyes she could even see
from her position. Yet his expression was imperturbable beyond reason, even more so than
Mr. Osborn, whose stoical resting face she now realized bordered more along the lines of
eternally annoyed.

It seemed that the more people Brook met today, the more serious they became.

Though Harry had mentioned Mr. Wayne having a kid their age, he'd failed to mention who
the others were and she supposed she’d never bothered to ask. Her interest in the Waynes had
only increased during the limo ride to the gallery, when her otets had expressed the extent of
discontentment between CEOs.

The woman by Mr. Wayne's side was much more flamboyant than her husband, a trait that
likely stemmed from confidence. She was probably the only woman in the room wearing a
black dress that matched her equally dark hair color, and unlike her husband, she was smiling
down at the crowd, flaunting her curves and physical assets with pride.

As the group descended down the steps at a leisurely and unhurried pace, Brooklyn turned
back to see her otets and Pepper standing behind her, one of the two with a displeased frown
at the sight.

Brooklyn noted everyone's eyes, including those of the Luthors and Osborns around them,
were alternating with equal interest between Stark and Mr Wayne. Everyone seemed aware of
the distaste between them, one Brooklyn was just starting to piece together.

This generation's old conflict was perhaps more severe than she'd originally thought. But
some things still didn't make sense, like who the other men amongst the Waynes were.
They’d all been announced with different last names, yet were announced at the same time.

Brook tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as she leaned into Harry's side and whispered,
"Who are they?" motioning to the three young adults who were walking down in sync with
Mr and Mrs Wayne, hands behind their backs.

Harry grinned and whispered back, "The Waynes. I suppose it makes sense you haven't heard
of them before, the eldest pair are Mr and Mrs Wayne's foster kids, they all keep to
themselves and sparingly attend such events"

All of them were a family then. She supposed Harry’s words of them keeping to themselves
made sense, because as they beheld the room awaiting them below, they did so with a
confidence like they were above it all.

"The one on the left is the eldest son—the tall man with the blue eyes—that's Dick Grayson,
otherwise known as the babe of high society...after me of course. He's a cop in Bludhaven but
he visits Gotham often even though there was a rumor recently that he was disowned for
marrying an alien! Clearly he's still a Wayne, but rest assured he is still very much married"
Harry said, motioning to the guy pleasantly showcasing a movie star grin, flipping his
perfectly styled black hair as if with the aid of an invisible wind.

Sure enough, many of the women in the room had their gazes locked on the eldest of the
Wayne sons.

Then her friend subtly pointed at the guy beside him, also seemingly on the older side of the
spectrum. Much like his adoptive brother, he had similar blue eyes, but longer black hair that
almost reached his shoulders. He was also slightly paler…and unlike Grayson, wasn't
bothering with the smiles, choosing to frown with tired eyes instead.

"That's the second oldest, Tim Drake. He's been helping Mr.Wayne with running Wayne
Enterprises since he was fifteen, makes the rest of us heirs and heiresses look like shit, huh?
He’s not even the heir to the company to begin with and he’s already making us look like
idiots if you ask me. Plus I once heard someone say that he's such a diligent worker that he
stays up for days on end like a vampire"

He sure looked like it. The guy descending down the steps was the only one in the room who
actively displayed his exhaustion at being at the benefit gala. Though barely visible amidst
his beauty, if one looked close enough, dark bags under his eyes could be spotted.

Lastly, on the other side of Mr and Mrs Wayne was a shorter boy, a drastic change of age
compared to the other two. That had to be the teen their age that Harry disliked so much, the
one he'd spoken of so distastefully in the metro.

If Harry had mentioned a name back then, Brooklyn didn't recall it now.

At first glance, Brook couldn’t help but notice how similar the stranger looked to his father.
Same hair, seemingly permanent frown, even when his green eyes and rich-golden skin were
a notable difference…they were still like carbon copies of each other in terms of the way in
which they carried themselves.

Someone that young should not be that serious, she noted. Brook had studied enough people
at school, kids their age, to notice such things rather quickly. Compared to the oozing
happiness of the eldest Wayne, the teen looked out right annoyed.

"Harry...who's he?" Brook asked, subtly pointing towards the youngest Wayne with her eyes,
finding herself curious to hear more about him.
Harry scoffed quietly, but whispered closer to her ear as if afraid the teen in the distance
would hear him, "That's Damian. No one in the world is good enough for him, even a simple
hello is too much for him to return. I guess if I had to describe him one way, it would be by
pointing out that he hates everyone, and rumor has it, that includes members of his own
family. Like us, he’s the heir to his family name, the future CEO of Wayne Enterprises"

Keeping her eyes locked on the boy their age, Brooklyn couldn't help but note that he carried
himself as the adults around them did, beheld the sea of people as if they were beneath him.
That coldness and sharpness in his eyes…Brook couldn’t explain it, but it was almost
familiar.

Almost like there he saw all she did, the things others dismissed.

Maybe that's why her instincts clung to the weakness Harry had unknowingly mentioned, that
there could very well be some sort of issue stemming from rivalry with his eldest siblings.
Good thing Brook's only sibling was a robot.

Harry let out a quiet chuckle and added, "Like you, he just showed up one day out of thin air.
Mr. Wayne told the press he'd sent his son to study abroad for ten years, probably what
messed him up so much"

Brooklyn didn't have time to agree because the Waynes finally descended down the steps, and
as soon as Mr. Wayne caught sight of Brook's father amongst the masses, his frown seemed
to deepen, if that was even possible.

Though the man looked tough that didn’t mean he was a threat, even if some ancient instinct
told her to be on guard. Maybe it was because in this world where influence and riches
determined those on top of the highest class of society, it made Brooklyn weary knowing
there was a family out there with as much sway as the Starks. Here, where skill and battle
tactics had no sway, the Waynes were in equal standing.

Brooklyn kept her eyes locked on the family that didn’t even have to gaze at the crowds for
them to part in their favor. She watched them make their way directly towards them, heads
held high and waves of whispers starting as they passed with confident strides.

It was then that Brook noted that unlike all other family groups here that had chosen to match
their outfits with two distinct colors, the Waynes had an ensemble of only black either
because they deemed these attire customs as below them, or because the darkness of night
was all that reflected the soul within.

She wished she had more information on them, strengths and weaknesses she could use in her
favor, but the power plays of this society were still foreign to her, and using her fighting skills
(arguably her strongest trait) were forbidden. Where did that leave her against an enemy like
this?

"Good luck, Brook" Harry whispered hurriedly, inching back towards his father as Stark and
Pepper moved to stand by Brook's side. Despite the thick tension in the room that was almost
palpable, the assassin couldn't help but be amused at her father's serious expression or the
way he sized up their incoming enemy with both amusement and annoyance.
It was rare to see Stark so worked up like that after all.

When the Wayne entourage stopped a few feet before them, all the voices in their vicinity
went quiet, even Harry slowly stepped back towards his quiet father where the crowds had
formed a circle of sorts around them.

Mr. Wayne stood at the front of his family, that cold stare of his scanning the three Starks
with distaste, but he still nodded their way politely, a move that Brook followed reluctantly
after seeing her own family was following formalities as well.

"Anthony, glad you could take time out of your busy schedule to stop by," Mr. Wayne said, a
small smirk painted on his face. Feigning formalities with a hidden bite to his words, Brook
realized.

Brooklyn's otets took the words with a smirk, reverting back to his usual snarky attitude
which the ex-assassin knew would mean trouble. Brook even heard Pepper's sharp intake of
breath as she too realized where this was going.

"Being a superhero is busy work, Brucy. But I will always take the time to attend something
for a good cause" Stark said, almost succeeding in making Brook burst out laughing at the
ridiculous nickname.

The tension in their little bubble seemed to grow by the second, but even so, both men were
now smiling at each other, venomous and harsh smirks that were anything but polite. They
were like two skyscrapers standing tall above it all, waiting for the other to fall.

Brook hadn't even seen Stark act like this in front of Steve when they had a disagreement,
which prior to this had been her only indication of what her otets’ restrained distaste looked
like. It was almost easy to imagine generations prior of both bloodlines gazing at each other
like this, a hate so strong it bled into every subsequent individual, growing as it did.

Still, her instincts to protect the ones she cared for were already on full alert, refusing to let
her step away from both Stark and Pepper to play the games they knew and she didn’t.

But it was when Bruce turned to Pepper with a curt nod and said, "Congratulations on the
engagement Ms Potts, I hope marrying Mr. Stark won't feel too burdensome a task", that
Brooklyn was unable to keep observing quietly any longer.

Stark could take an insult and flip it on a person easily, but no one had the right to insinuate
anything against Pepper, who despite being strong with her own words when she wanted,
often chose the peaceful and polite way to handle things.

Brooklyn had promised to be on her best behavior, but this clown before her clearly needed a
reminder about common manners. He needed to learn that no one messed with Pepper when
Brook was around.

"Your wife seems to have managed dealing with your attitude just fine, Mr. Wayne. In that
case, I don't think my parents will have any problems in the future" Brooklyn said in a sickly
sweet voice, squaring her shoulders as she stood a little straighter.
It wasn't until a few seconds that Brooklyn realized what she'd said in her haze of
protection... she'd called them her parents. Not otets or Pepper....but she’d called them the
words of family members she’d never had. She’d referred to them both as her parents.

It occurred to the ex-assassin that they'd both been that for her for some time, but saying it
out loud was entirely different. Something she hadn’t dared to say these past few weeks both
in fear of offending them, and because Brook didn’t think she was worthy of it.

But with every embrace, word of encouragement, and the efforts they put to become closer to
her…they had earned the titles without Brook ever being able to stop it. Unknowingly, she’d
begun to think of them while she was away, to lean on them with a kind of trust she’d once
deemed unimaginable.

Maybe Brooklyn was not worthy of them, she was someone with too much blood on her
hands, not enough love to give away freely. But the things she cherished, she did so with
every bit of her broken soul. Ivan may have been wrong about many things, but he often said
that bones that broke were always the strongest, so perhaps her broken heart was strong
enough to fashion herself into some semblance of the daughter Tony Stark and Pepper Potts
deserved.

That broken heart of hers that had been neglected and ignored for many years might very
well be the strongest part of her, and both adults had helped her see that. For that, how could
she not take a step forward and face anything that stood in their way?

She tried not to let the panic show, and when Mr. Wayne's cold gaze turned to her, Brooklyn
didn't even flinch. She met his gaze head on, daring him to fire another comment back
because she would not stand idly by as someone attacked her parents in any way.

To her shock, the two eldest sons standing at Mr. Wayne’s right side were actually smiling,
even his wife had relented a surprised widening of her cat-like brown eyes.

But Brook’s attention was locked on the youngest son to the man’s left, the one who had
moved to stand beside his father, brandishing that same harsh stare as his father. Though
there was a notable difference between confidence and arrogance, it was hard to spot it on
that teen’s face.

Damian…Damian Wayne was his name.

Unfazed by the two hellacious stares, Brooklyn did her best to fight them back with equal
force. She summoned every bit of strength and burning hatred to combat the frost from their
glares.

Not once did she look away, nor did they. It would appear those wealthy idiots had backbone
at least, enough that she was willing to wager their sway amongst these crowds was not just
due to the coin in the pockets, but the respect they demanded to be shown.

Hearing someone step beside her, Brooklyn barely registered who placed an arm around her
shoulders as Tony said, "What can I say, I'm a lucky man to be marrying someone as
wonderful as Pepper…though seeing all the guests we have to invite you’ll have to forgive us
if your invitation gets lost in the mail. But enough about me, how are things back in Gotham?
Is it still overseen by that vampire and his merry band of batlings?"

Mr. Wayne's jaw clenched, as if the mere insult of Gotham's famed vigilante was a direct
insult to him as a citizen of the city. Then again, if someone insulted Spider-man, Queens
would likely riot in response.

Everyone had their celebrity crushes, she supposed.

Mr.Wayne then proceeded to causally argue about how the Avengers should be doing more to
stop the increasing crime on the eastern coast since it was beginning to bleed into Gotham. At
which point Brooklyn’s father had questioned whether Mr. Wayne thought he owned Gotham
or was just a very concerned citizen, clearly a jab to belittle his extent of power.

Tony also argued the famous bat of the city should be the one doing more to help since he
often refused help from any heroes who had offered to end crime across Gotham over the
years. The Avengers were already dealing with dangers on a worldwide scale, they couldn't
possibly keep track of everything a vigilante couldn’t handle.

Brooklyn would've gladly paid attention to the rest of the bickering, but as the men started
arguing about more nonsense, she could feel the strong gaze from the youngest son directed
straight at her.

Sure enough, when she dared to look she found his green eyes were still locked on her,
gazing down with disdain. In that moment, it was like something clicked, as if she finally
understood why their families didn’t get along, why the differences between them made all
the difference.

It was almost amusing how accurate Harry was at reading people sometimes. This so-called
Damian Wayne was already irrationally picking a fight with an assassin, not looking the least
bit sorry about it.

Maybe he was an idiot after all.

Brook didn’t hesitate to stare right back, raising a perfectly groomed brow, daring him to so
much as talk and say something he'd regret. If he was the same as his father, Brooklyn just
knew they wouldn't get along under any circumstances, even when she'd been trying the
whole 'giving people a chance' thing these past months.

Did this Wayne think that because his dad had money, it made him better than others? That
kind of behavior may be accepted by all others, but it wouldn't be by her. Brooklyn, who had
truly been born amongst the death and power situated in his eyes, would one day make sure
this spoiled brat knew where he truly stood in the world.

If this guy ever crossed her, she'd probably relish in beating him up, even if it was a shame
ruining those unnatural good looks she’d likely never admit to noticing.

"Just enjoy the party, Stark" Mr. Wayne said, grabbing onto his wife's awaiting arm despite
the fact that the woman was smiling like she was having the time of her life, then added, "I
 wish the Avengers luck during these troubling times"

If that was a warning or a taunt, she supposed only her father and Mr. Wayne would know.

Unlike the other people she'd met so far, Mr. Wayne was the only one who hadn't approached
Brook with questions about her first appearance in society. She might have been grateful for
the lack of pestering for the first time tonight had he not been such an ass. It's why she
refrained from doing much more than nodding in farewell as the others had.

Just like that, Brook watched the Waynes disappear though the crowds of colorful gowns and
pressed suits, all of which parted like the ocean at the mere proximity of the family that may
very well own Gotham.

Those around the Starks parted a path just as quickly and respectfully when the three began
to retreat the opposite way, her mom and dad keeping study hands along Brook’s back as they
ushered her along at a leisurely pace.

Despite the fact that the encounter was over and dealt with, Brook still turned one last time,
only to see the two eldest turn back from their retreating path at the same time and shoot her
smile, but not malicious ones. It was as if they were grateful she'd talked back to their stick-
in-the-mud of a father. Almost as if they’d enjoyed the amusement of it all. Then as if
sensing something was going on, the youngest turned as well. Unlike his adopted siblings, he
was not pleased when their gazes met, in fact, he shot her one last glare before turning around
and continuing his path with squared shoulders and a raised head.

Good riddance, Brook thought. If she ever had to see the Waynes again, especially that green-
eyed demon, it would be too soon.

Turning back to her father, Brook whispered, "I considered apologizing for my behavior, but
I have a feeling this family conflict will go on for another generation like clockwork. I
already feel like murdering Wayne Jr."

To her surprise, Stark laughed, eyes softening as he looped their arms together and whispered
back, "That's my daughter"

Chapter End Notes

Couldn't help the silly Twilight entrance when I was writing this. The Wayne family is
so dramatic sometimes especially if it helps keep their secret identities under-wraps, so I
feel like thats exactly how that would've gone down.

I hope you're all having a wonderful day. Remember to stay positive, and that you
matter.
 The Devil's Waltz
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Individuals who valued money above all else were as annoying as she'd expected. For the
better part of the past hour, Brooklyn had been approached by insistent people who were
trying to suck up to Tony and Pepper, and thus, her as well.

They always asked Brook the same questions, expressed their boisterous opinions about how
wonderful it was to finally have her partake in her rightful place amongst them, and the
occasional clueless comment about how perfect her new life in the spotlight must be now.
Those who had children of both older and younger ages mixed up the conversations by trying
to set up something akin to 'play dates' between her and their offspring, all in the hopes that
their families could become closer to the Stark name and the heiress meant to inherit
everything.

It was a careful game of fake smiles that made Brooklyn feel as if she were in a room full of
people wearing masks to hide their true intentions. Were she more naive and lacking her
training in deception from the Red Room, Brook might’ve fallen for their carefully practiced
tricks.

Even though Brook hadn't been reprimanded for her outburst towards Mr. Wayne, and likely
never would be seeing as her otets hadn’t stopped smiling since, she still tried to be on her
best behavior from then on to avoid any other…public encounters. For the sake of creating a
reputation aside from her first outburst with the Waynes, Brooklyn spent what felt like hours
shaking hands, stretching a smile till her mouth’s muscles ached, laughed at stupid jokes, and
even said a few words when the press was let in to scout interviews.

At some point when they’d finally snuck a moment to sit down, her parents—because that's
what they were, no matter how much Brook hoped they forgot about her saying so out loud—
had been offered flutes of champagne by a passing waiter. When Brook reached out to grab a
glass of her own, Tony pulled her hand down.

"You're too young for that, and I'd rather you were sober thought this," her otets said,
smirking as he pulled the bubbling champagne to his lips.

Brooklyn shrugged.

"You know I've been drinking since I was 5, right? And it's all been stuff much stronger than
a weak champagne, like Vodka, whiskey, even brandy a few times. I'm not a lightweight" she
whispered.

Pepper, who had been sitting beside her suddenly became alarmed.
"Why on earth would they let you drink at such a young age?" she asked, making sure to only
be loud enough to be heard by the teen and Tony. Though they weren’t approached at the
table, the three were well aware of the distant eyes that were still locked on every move they
made.

Eyes locked on dancing partners on the dance floor before their table, couples who trusted
one another through spins and steps with ease, she realized that relenting a tiny bit of her past
with her family wouldn't be so bad.

They hadn't judged her for the killing aspect of her childhood after all.

Locking away her nerves, Brook whispered to her parents, "Well, 'they' gave me alcohol to
numb pain after particularly interesting training sessions. Unless you were about to die,
medical treatment wasn't offered so you could create a strong pain tolerance. The alcohol
wasn't given to us out of pity either, but to create a high alcohol tolerance so that on missions,
it wouldn't be a weakness. Everything in there had a purpose after all"

Despite the warmth of the ballroom, Brook suddenly remembered the cold Russian nights
spent shivering in her bed, drinking her monthly alcohol bottle to numb the pain of her whip
lashes and to fight off the chill of the night that only got worse when the end of the year
approached.

No widow was ever given warmer blankets during the winter months. Only true widows
would survive against anything, and that included the freezing temperatures of the night.

Every year, many young girls perish from the cold kiss of winter, but Brook had oftentimes
taken to reminding herself that she was stronger than the elements year after year. She’d
never let her body freeze, willed her insides to warm, to fight the inhuman enemy.

Now, after so much drinking in her youth, Brooklyn was seriously convinced no amount of
alcohol in this room could disturb her.

When she finally turned away from the dancing before them, Brooklyn noticed that her
parents' faces had morphed into that concerned look they got every time they learned new
things about her past. She knew by now that it was best to give them time to process what
was so normal to her, so Brooklyn let the soft melodies of the room fill the silence as she
scanned the surrounding areas for any enemies.

Throughout the night, Brook had been vigilant for the possible criminal in the room, but so
far no one had caught her eye. What she did notice was Harry stuck with yet another eager
partner on the dance floor.

Despite dancing all night, he still looked lively and happy. It was a shame so many people
required his attention, otherwise Brook might have stuck to his side all night. The ex-assassin
found that Harry knew the most gossip of everyone in this room, and it would've been useful
for both her mission and for future reference to spend today learning as much as she could.
Not to mention, he might’ve been able to point out something or someone that didn’t fit after
attending so many of these galas since his youth.
When he caught her eye, Harry gave her an exasperated pout over his partner's shoulder.
Brooklyn couldn’t help but smile, watching as her miserable friend was pulled to yet another
dance with another eager older woman.

Then, her father's voice brought her back, indicating that he’d processed her earlier words at
last. Though she could tell he was having trouble summoning that careless tone of his, Brook
could tell there was a bit of worry as he said, "You still can't drink till you're of legal age, I
feel like that's something a responsible father would say. And you better not be drinking back
at your apartment either, I'll know if you do"

Brooklyn let out a small laugh, "Something tells me you started drinking before legal age too,
correct?"

Her father neither denied or confirmed that suspicion, so she turned to behold the new buzz
of conversation that had begun at the front of the room with the arrival of the press. She
scanned each new individual, both their cameras and microphones in search of alien weapons
as the reporters scrambled around the masses, eager to get some interviews done before their
limited time was up.

Thirty minutes later, Brooklyn was certain her parents had talked to every reporter by now,
that is until a man cleared his throat behind them. When Brooklyn turned, she actually had to
strain her neck to lock eyes with the tall reporter behind them.

Unlike the other small and overly boisterous members of the press, this one was much
different.
Tall, well-built, but the nerdy glasses and adorable button up made him appear shy in some
way. He had a pen and paper on hand, and greeted them all by name with a smile that
disarmed the senses.

"My name is Clark Kent, I'm from Metropolis's Daily Planet," the reporter said.

Someone from Metropolis at last. It had been odd to be interviewed by so many outside
sources all this time, it was about time a local tried to get a story. Not that she was
particularly happy about interviews, but at least this man was kind and most certainly not the
criminal she was looking for, not when he clumsily dropped his pen a few times.

Brook's dad stood up and shook the man's hand, "I assume you have some questions. Ask
away Mr. Kent, I think I'm going to take my fiancée out for a dance after this"

The man straightened his tie, but nodded with an understanding expression.

At the same time, a smaller reporter from the Queens Daily Bugle approached Pepper about
her absence from Stark Industries before Brooklyn's resurgence.

So much for their break...

Seeing as though both her parents were busy, Brooklyn took the time to slip away to the food
tables before either reporter could think to interview her. Despite her few words to some
reporters, Brook was not very good at coming up with elegant responses on the spot, still too
unfamiliar with the customs and games of this world.

As she snuck away from the table, the teen could still hear the words form the reporter
talking to Pepper, who also seemed to try and sneak some words towards her dad.

Is your daughter officially the heiress to Stark Industries?

Will she take up your mantle as Iron Man when you retire?

Those questions had been asked all day, and Tony had done a decent job of evading the
SHIELD aspect of them somehow. It was a relief, since Brooklyn had no clue what her own
future held. Sure, she was learning about the workings of Stark Industries, and becoming an
Avenger in secret...but since it was all just training of sorts, it didn't feel like a solid path yet.

So far it seemed like a road Brook wasn't sure she could pull off.

Not that she could let the doubt show either. Piling fruits on a plate and consuming them in
peace, Brook remained standing by the food tables where she would not be disturbed,
watching the crowds dancing before her…but secretly keeping an eye out for any suspicious
behavior, especially once the reporters' time was up and everyone in the room relaxed from
the lack of cameras.

She figured if anything was going to happen, it would be now when all the cameras and
notable news channels stood outside to broadcast the carnage. If they had attacked while the
reporters were inside, the risk of killing too many of them and thus lessening the public
coverage of such a massive target would be wasted. At least that was the logical approach.

Her grueling search was momentarily paused when she caught sight of a peculiar couple now
on the dance floor. Brooklyn wasn’t sure why, but she found it endearing to see her parents
finally swinging around the room like a Disney couple from the movies Scott seemed to love
so much.

They looked like royalty.

Seeing them relaxed and unbothered, that was probably the happiest Brook had been all
night. It wasn’t her first glimpse at what they were like as a couple in love, but something
about seeing them in the midst of a dance revealed the trust and true connection they shared
within. Brooklyn wondered if that's what love looked like, only seeing the person before you
amongst a crowd of dozens.

She supposed that didn’t much matter, not when Brooklyn would never find herself in that
position. Even if Natasha had relented to it, Brook still thought love had no place in an
assassin’s heart. If it was possible, she wasn’t even sure what that kind of devotion would
look like, it would likely be something strong enough to rattle the skies.

Of course, all of her reverence for the dancing partners diminished as soon as people realized
Brooklyn was away from her parents and standing by her lonesome at the edge of the dance
floor. She hadn’t even finished her plate when a young man of blonde hair and brown eyes
approached and asked for a dance.

With so many eyes on Brook and the hand the stranger had extended between them, she’d
had no choice but to agree. Annoyingly so, she had to relent to the next invitation and every
single one afterwards until she could barely remember the names of those she’d danced with
but ignored in favor of shouting her surroundings for the criminals in hiding.

Brook should’ve stayed at the table with her family…a family that actually dared to smile her
way when they noticed she’d been pulled into the fray, albeit with teasing gestures and
private chuckles between the two.

Regardless of her lack of willingness for romantic endeavors or dancing, her endearment for
both Tony and Pepper had only grown tonight, especially since Pepper hadn't corrected
Brook on her slip of the tongue earlier, and neither had her otets.

She could forgive their teasing for that alone.

Damian Wayne POV-

Despite the absolute normality of the night that bordered on dull, Damian found himself
feeling different than at most galas. It was ridiculous, really. Everything was the same as
always, nothing remotely interesting, and everyone was as annoying and inconsequential as
ever.

Well, a few things were out of the ordinary from the last gala he’d deigned to attend. This
was the second time father's harlot had joined them at a public event, and it was the fifth time
he'd been forced to address her as mother in front of reporters.

Damian was irked enough as it was, he should be out on patrols or on a mission rather than
be stuck here with all these rich and entitled cretins. He understood the importance of
keeping normal appearances to get rid of suspicions of their involvement with Batman, but
these kinds of events never seemed like they were worth the effort.

As per usual, Grayson was busy dancing with anyone who threw herself at him despite his
marital status. Drake was also busy, seated to Damian on his phone as he continued to track
down some weapon dealers they'd been monitoring for weeks.

It should be Damian that was out there doing the pursuit with the others, not sitting here and
doing nothing. But that wasn't his main annoyance at the moment, that had hit the back
burner of his mind as soon as he met Stark's offspring.

He'd heard gossip about her in school the past few weeks. It all seemed relatively useless at
first, because who cared if Tony Stark suddenly revealed the existence of a daughter? It
seemed like a stupid thing to fixate on, utterly irrelevant to his life.

Then Damian had the misfortune of actually meeting her.

Brooklyn Stark.

Though some part of him, a very minute part he might add, was impressed she'd dared talk
back to his father...most of his thoughts were still affronted.

That rich brat had dared to glare at him in challenge, no one had ever dared to do that before,
and the only reasonable explanation he could conclude was that she thought herself better
than him because of her last name. As if her father's money could do anything against
Damian. He was a trained assassin after all, if he really wanted to test who possessed a
stronger will, he'd likely end up killing her.

Of course that wasn't a probable outcome to dispel his rage, under Bruce's roof and principle
killing was never the answer and perhaps the most forbidden action Damian could opt for.
Yet something about that girl's attitude in the seven and half seconds they’d been in close
proximity had made the thought very appealing.

Even now, despite his best efforts not to do so, Damian's gaze was once again locked on the
other side of the room where the girl was pulled into yet another dance. After every hand
she'd accepted, Damian had noticed a few things that were off about her, starting with the
more obvious fact that she clearly wasn't like the other rich dunces in this room. Not in the
slightest.

She didn't talk the ears off her dance partners, and not once had the young Stark bothered to
show off her expensive jewelry like most women of status Damian had met. In fact, she
looked as bored and annoyed as Damian felt. Her dancing was impeccable, even when her
mind seemed to be elsewhere, looking around the room despite the fact that her parents were
dancing not too far away.

She couldn't be blind enough to miss the sight of them, could she? If not, then who was she
looking for?

It was a puzzle, something new and strange to pick apart in what Damian convinced himself
was a way to pass the time. In fact, the young heir hadn’t even noticed he’d spent the past
hour unable to keep his eyes off her wherever her dance partners swayed her, and Robin
found his frown growing with each passing second the questions and peculiarities kept
stacking up.

Dick and Tim Wayne POV-

Unknown to the youngest Wayne, his brothers had noted that change in behavior as soon as it
began. Dick more so than Tim since he was closer to the youngest sibling, but after an hour
or so of such peculiar acts, even the most distanced of their siblings could’ve seen something
was different.

The pair of siblings had accepted Damian would be in a foul mood today, more so than other
nights since he was forced to come to the gala while their other siblings were out on a
mission. There was something about being excluded from missions specifically that made the
youngest the most upset.
If he missed out on an outing to the store or any kind of family outing that did not involve
fighting, Damian wouldn't even bat an eye. Dick knew his little brother hated crowds, normal
everyday social activities, and what he referred to as ‘useless outings’. But if there was one
thing Damian was passionate about, it was his job as Robin…and whatever had snagged his
attention tonight.

Neither sibling had expected this peculiar turn of events.

They had never seen Damian focus his attention on anyone for so long before, in fact, their
brother looked about ready to combust in anger for some reason. Him being angry was
normal, but this was a different kind of anger that Dick figured not even Damian would be
able to label properly. It wasn’t because old ladies were pinching his cheeks and telling him
how adorable he was, not from the insistent invitations to dance he had to reject…Damian’s
darkened green eyes, and every shade of puzzlement and anger within them, were focused on
the one and only Brooklyn Stark.

Dick had been more than pleased by his first encounter with that girl, mostly because it
wasn't often someone so young dared speak to their father that way. Definitely not strangers.
Even if she was a Stark, Dick and Tim found her interesting, but clearly not as much as
Damian did.

Despite Tim being busy on his phone, he snuck glances at his younger brother every now and
then. He tried not to smile, he really did, but this was such an odd experience that he wasn’t
entirely sure if it was real. His only confirmation had been the subtle grins Dick had shot him
as he was passed around from woman to woman on the dance floor.

From his closer proximity to their youngest sibling, Tim could attest to the fact that Damian
probably hadn’t bothered to blink for the past hour, a privilege not even the worst criminal
being monitored during a stakeout was worth.

Next time Tim looked up from his phone, he caught sight of Dick spinning his partner just so
that he could silently mouth a single question to him.

What’s wrong with him?

Tim, who was equally as puzzled and answerless could only reply subtly, I suppose the same
as always, he’s Damian Wayne.

Thankfully, for the oddness of his behavior, Damian was still acting very much like himself
in every other aspect. As always, no matter how many women or teenage girls tried to drag
Damian to the dance floor, he rudely refused without fail. But now—unlike any other event
they’d frequented—Damian had a bigger annoyance in mind, enough so that he outright
refused to take his eyes off the dance floor, not bothering to glance at anyone who spoke to
him.

That was enough for Dick to finally pry himself away from the eager line of men and women
waiting to dance with him, doing his best not to look eager to go back to the Wayne table.
Shooting a subtle nod to Tim, Dick sat down on the vacant chair next to his little brother's
and tried to decide the best way to approach these un-ventured waters.
"What's wrong?" Dick ended up asking over the sound of the enchanting music, keeping his
gaze where Damian's was, locked on the girl in flowing red dress with lips just as vibrant. It
wasn’t hard to find her in the crowd of dimmer shades of gowns, whether by accident or
design, the copper-colored Brooklyn Stark managed to stand out quite easily.

Surprisingly, Damian didn't bother to answer, and both elder brothers locked knowing gazes.
Not born out of concern for their younger brother, but stemming off a devious plan that could
very well help them understand what was going on…as well as having some fun along the
way.

They were about to ruin Damian's night.

In their defense, this was payback, punishment for letting Titus into Dick's old room
yesterday. Perhaps one could argue Dick and Tim were far too old to be holding grudges over
such silly sibling squabbles, but as Waynes, they’d become masters at…nurturing said
grudges until they festered into motivation for success.

Damian had crossed a line, justice demanded payback. Naturally, what could be worse than
dancing with a Stark, right? Not to mention the true punishment was a hidden gem, which
would be the massive trouble Damian would get in with Bruce for inevitably making a scene,
the ultimate icing on the cake!

So yes, some could argue Dick and Tim were far too old to be dishing out such intense
punishments, but dog drool on bedsheets was a serious crime, and who better to uphold the
law than Batman's kids?

There was no need to exchange verbal words or plotting, not when the two brothers had
grown up together for most of their lives. This was just one of the thousands of sibling
paybacks the two had coordinated, and to begin this particularly cruel plan, Tim—seemingly
disinterested— said as casually as he could, "You know, I feel like we should know more
about our new enemy. We've been so busy lately that we haven't gotten the chance to deal
with the presence of a new Stark"

Dick faked interest and replied, "You're right, my friend! As the world's best detectives, we
should try and get to know that girl better from now on. She will be Damian's business rival
in a few years after all, and seeing as she’s just been introduced to the world, it's not like we
can do much research on her"

Indicating that he had been listening, Damian scoffed.

"She's daddy's little rich girl. What else is there to know?" the youngest muttered annoyedly.

That's when Dick realized what they needed to do to make this plan work, the final nail in the
coffin to their success. There was only one way to get through to Damian, and either by fault
of his mother or Bruce, that was with work and missions.

It's why the eldest suggested, "Let's just walk by the food table, I'm starving anyways. We can
hear the kind of things Stark Jr. is talking about since she’d dancing nearby, we can get some
intel before the rest of our siblings become interested in this particular assignment"
Damian was quiet for a few seconds, his unwavering gaze still locked into the Stark who
once again was forced to switch dance partners.

Tim’s support came quickly as he filled the silence with a hum in approval, "I'd like
something to eat as well. You two should bring me some coffee while I oversee the others. If
I fall asleep, my lack of tech support will hinder the mission after all"

Dick almost sighed in relief when, as he pulled Damian up from his seat, the young boy
didn't fight him when he very well could’ve flipped the eldest to the ground simply because
he’d been touched.

Curiosity was a very powerful thing, and maybe it guaranteed him and Tim a ticket to hell,
but he had a feeling this would be the best revenge they’d thought of in a long time. Perhaps
only coming in second to that time they placed an octopus on Steph’s bath because she’d
eaten their octo-dogs.

(Yes, Alfred still cut hot dogs into little octopuses for Gotham’s deadliest vigilantes, but any
Wayne child could swear that they tasted better that way)

This too was created to be the most unforgettable experience possible considering poor
Damian hated touching other people above all else, hated small talk, dancing, and was
absolutely disinterested with anyone's presence.

Though Dick might have to save the young girl's life before Damian could kill her, it would
all be worth it. Plus there was already conflict between their families, so problems would
likely not escalate unless Brooklyn Stark cried so hard her father summoned his Iron Man
suit, but even then, they were in a public setting. A controlled environment.

As the pair made their way around the edge of the packed dance floor, Dick sent a subtle look
to his brother remaining at the table. Despite the fact that he was likely still keeping an eye
on the rest of their siblings and the mission, Tim already had his phone camera at the ready,
Selena and Bruce none the wiser across the room speaking to a walking fossil about business.
Perfect.

With video evidence, their siblings could all have a laugh about this later beside his and
Tim’s dead corpses when Damian inevitably killed them for this.

Dick almost couldn’t contain his excitement as he and Damian weaved through the crowds
that were eager to start conversations, he dealt with them by exaggeratedly pointing at the
distant food tables and rubbing his stomach silently. It successfully kept anyone from ruining
his plan, which almost had Dick joyfully swaying his hips to the beat of the classical music,
far too excited for the success that was around the corner.

Additionally, as if the gods Aunt Diana spoke of were on par with this devious plan, the
couples on the dance floor had just finished their intricate dance and were ready to switch
partners. Just as the two Waynes passed the edge by where the red-headed teen was politely
bidding farewell to her previous partner, Dick slyly pretended to trip on his own shoe, hip
colliding with his brother with enough strength that poor Damian ended up stumbling into the
dance floor with a curse in Arabic, and to further his amusement, miraculously colliding right
into the arms of the Stark.

Dick had to turn away to hide his laughter, knowing that if he were to glance at the other side
of the dance floor where Tim was seated, he’d lose his composure entirely. Once Dick
managed to collect himself, he whispered a silent sorry to his fuming brother and sneakily
sunk into the crowds gathering closer to the commotion, most gasping in disbelief and others
looking about ready to go save the newbie.

It was true that Damian had earned himself a reputation amongst society from the actions of
his younger years. Most knew to keep a distance now, save for the girls who beheld Damian
as the biggest goldmine of their generation, but even most of those girls knew better than to
try now. They, much like Dick, probably feared the worst fate for Brooklyn Stark whose first
gala would undoubtedly be ruined.

Of course that hadn’t stopped Dick from timing his little stumble just in time for the next
group dance to start, meaning neither teen could break away now.

As he sneakily retreated back to the family table, he snuck a glance towards Tim who already
had his hand harshly against his mouth to stifle back the laughter that no doubt dared to
bubble out, phone still pointed subtly at the teens. On the other side of the dance floor, Dick
also noticed Bruce's bewildered and livid face when he beheld just where Damian was and
who he was currently leaning against.

With a giant smirk plastered on his face, Dick fetched the coveted coffee that had made all of
this possible, then settled back in his chair next to Tim, both brothers fist bumping in
satisfaction as they heard the first strings of a romantic waltz begin to play.

"Watch where you're going, klutz" were the first words the Stark girl said to Damian when he
collided with her. He'd barely had time to steady himself from the tumble he’d salvaged to
not collide on the ground, hands on her sleeved shoulders before the disgraceful words left
her mouth.

It was then that Damian realized just whose body he'd had the misfortune of colliding against,
that her hands were supporting his elbows as if by instinct. It had to be considering her brown
eyes were simmering with rage that told him she’d gladly let him fall.

Righting his stance, he harshly removed his hands from her shoulders, and had to fight back
the urge to roll his eyes as the Stark noticed where her own hands were situated and rapidly
removed them from their perched spot on his elbows with a scowl of disgust.

Actual unfiltered disgust.

Damian, already short-tempered, growled back, "What makes you think you can talk to me?"

The girl's face contorted into a deeper sort of anger, something not many people dared to
show in front of him. At school, girls normally kept their distance after he said something of
the sort, only a few continued to make useless efforts to flatter him. It was one of the greater
annoyances of his life. But this girl knew who he was, and still dared to disrespect him.

"I'm not talking to you Wayne, I'm complaining, something completely acceptable when you
almost knocked me to the ground" the girl replied, her voice full of distaste that almost had
him wondering if he’d heard her wrong.

If she only knew that she was standing before Robin, a trained assassin, she'd likely run away
crying back to her parents. But she merely stood stubbornly before Damian, glaring up at him
with arms crossed and golden hair pins glinting against the candle light.

In an effort to quell his anger before it got out of control, Damian looked to the crowds at the
edge of the dance floor and when he found no trace of Grayson amongst the crowd, he vowed
to kill his brother later. This was far too inconvenient to be an accidental happening.

For now, Damian’s focus was to put this girl in her place, until she was left in tears,
apologizing for her unacceptable behavior. Then his curiosity would be quelled, and this
unfortunate encounter could at last be left to rest, the girl once again forgotten.

Originally, he'd planned to confront her outside the dance floor but once the music began and
people crowded at their sides, Damian froze, annoyedly realizing he'd have to dance with the
wretched creature. As in, actually touch and dance with another individual.

People were staring too intently at the scene they’d unintentionally caused, a fact he couldn't
ignore for the sake of appearances. Almost everyone who’d come to the gala now stood at the
edge of the invisible circle that separated spectators from dancers, each of their faces more
gobsmacked than the last at the sight of a Wayne and Stark at such closeness. Maybe the
Stark wasn’t completely stupid, because she quickly realized it too and let out a discrete sigh
of defeat.

Though the Stark looked like she wanted to do anything else but so, reluctantly she got into
her dancing position, holding out a hand for him to take. The feeling of hundreds of pairs of
eyes felt like arrows on his back, and in an effort to hide any signs of weakness, he slowly
moved to hover his own hand against hers.

When their skin met, Damian's own hand felt like it was burning with disgust. He hated
touching others, especially pretentious brats like this one, yet even he could admit this felt
different than any other accidental touches of the past. Different in the sense that he despised
the feeling of her skin against his, but had a stubborn need to remain as close to the Stark as
possible to figure out what about her made his mind lose focus of everything else.

He needed this mystery solved, and if he was stuck in this deplorable situation, Damian
might as well make the most of it.

The reluctant and displeased pair proceeded to get into their respective gender lines that
stretched out with dozens of partners in the middle of the dance floor. Standing next to each
other, both teens hesitated only for a second before intertwining their other hands, letting one
clasped pair hover above the other between them as the orchestra’s regal music began at last.
Damian kept his face blank, unwilling to show any emotion he felt not just to his unexpected
partner, but to the hundreds of curious eyes that were just waiting for either of them to make
a mistake. Briefly, Damian was reminded that this was the Stark’s first appearance at such
events, he wondered if she even understood that every person in here secretly wanted to see
both heirs fumble or create a scene simply for the fact that they were part of the top two most
powerful companies in the world.

For his sake and that of his mission, Damian would not give the masses the satisfaction of a
show, that is if the Stark could manage to keep quiet during their dance as his anger and
frustrations quelled.

She’d been quiet during her previous dances with a total of forty-six dance partners, what was
to say this wouldn’t be the same? One glance down at her and he knew that wouldn’t be the
case, not when she was doing a decent job secretly glaring at him. The Stark had kept a
pleasant smile for any of her previous partners no matter how obnoxious they’d been…so
why couldn't she do that now?

In sync with the other dancers, the two proceeded to take a few steps forward, each in time
with the music that forced them to set a slow pace. Well aware of the couple behind them
trying to catch a closer glimpse of them, Damian couldn’t help but whisper, "Stark, I
understand that these galas are events in which young women of our society try to find a rich
man to marry. Any luck yet, or is everyone here as repulsed by you as I am?"

Damian felt the hold on his hands tighten almost painfully, the girl keeping her face neutral as
they stood beside one another on one of the two rows of couples now facing each other. Still
hand in hand, the two teens paced forward to the beat of the song, briefly letting go of each
other as they passed between couples, then resumed their position beside one another now in
the opposite lane.

When their hands reluctantly locked back together at the last second before the next set of
steps began, Damian couldn’t help but glance around the crowd if only to keep from
screaming at the Stark. Unfortunately, he was quick to spot both his father and Mr. Stark,
both of whom had their eyes locked on the pair with palpable anger at opposite ends of the
dance floor’s sidelines. A sight which the teen couldn't help but want to groan in annoyance
at.

It had been too much to hope both of their families would be too busy to notice this most
aggravating event against his choice, and Damian had never been one to pray, but rather one
to expect the worst outcome.

His father’s puzzled eyes reminded Damian once more that starting a fight at such a big event
— that Wayne Enterprises had helped plan nonetheless— would get Damian in inconceivable
trouble.

Damian didn't know that the girl was thinking the same thing as she met her father's gaze. He
could never guess that Brook didn't particularly want Tony to lock her at the Avengers
Compound for life if she decided to fight with an innocent civilian in front of so many people.
She too was holding back her own instincts to flip him onto the cold, hard floor.
Thus, both teens swallowed up their murderous tendencies, almost choked on them as they
proceeded with the waltz. But of course, silent peace could not last forever, not with two
people who had short tempers and valued their pride in the face of an enemy. Not when
Damian had already begun the battle with his cruel words, which had been a simple attempt
to wage Brooklyn’s motives.

Once the couples settled into a normal square dance gliding along the edge of the dance floor,
when the two teens were forced to hold each other much closer than before to perform the
steps without any awkward footwork, the Stark finally deigned a response, one she whispered
low enough that no one around them would hear.

"First you crash into me, then you insult me with such inconceivable words even when I
haven't even received a proper apology for your first offense…I see now that Waynes aren't
taught proper manners"

Damian tightened the hand at her waist, slightly puzzled when the girl didn't flinch in fear. In
fact, he was astounded that she could keep up with him at all and still have the nerve to insult
him and his family name without any reservations.

While he was trained in the art of dancing since childhood, having mastered the steps to
perfection, he hadn’t been aware there were others his age that had mastered the skill with
equal standards of excellence.

It almost made him dislike her all the more, because even when Damian subtly picked up the
pace to throw her off, the Stark’s feet were steady and matched their new tempo perfectly.
The youngest Wayne was even more flabbergasted when she 'fought back', sometimes
initiating a surprise spin or dip, which he managed to execute immaculately if only thanks to
his childhood lessons and sharp instincts.

No matter what Damian did or what she did in return to try and catch the other off guard,
how difficult they made the dance…how tight they held each other, neither teen faltered. If
anything, he’d completely forgotten about his aversion to having another individual so close
to his personal space, too focused on ways to make her mess up to care.

Despite the blind-rage induced focus he’d fallen into, Damian was well aware they were
likely gathering too much attention not only by being the only teens on the dance floor,
family enemies from birth, but by the crafted complexity of their dance that started a few
whispers from partners nearby that Damian chose to ignore completely.

Though he’d never bothered to make such a connection between what he’d assumed to be
opposite skills, as ridiculous as it sounded, it was almost as if the two were fighting as they
danced. Testing for weaknesses, each step forward and backward like an offensive and
defensive move…an intricate battle without punches or weapons.

At some point, when their fake placid expressions were running thin even when no more
words had been exchanged, Damian noted with both fury and surprise, that the Stark had
upped her retaliating by trying to reach for pressure points which would induce immense
pain.
How could the daughter of a CEO know this? How could a Stark be aware of the
complexities of such a skill?

Now that Damian bothered to think about it beyond his rage, her movements were very
thought out to a level no mere teenager could work out, as if she were indeed fighting him.
When he too tried to cause her pain by moving his hands to vulnerable pressure points, she
expertly avoided them with elegant spins that masked the vicious action to the people around
them.

This may look like a normal dance between indifferent partners to the audience, but to each
other, they were two opposing sides at war that had no clue just what force of nature they’d
encountered.

As tempers arose, to further his displeased puzzlement, the young Wayne suddenly felt the tip
of a blade at his back. Not piercing through the skin, but prominent enough that he was well
aware of the weapon. Though he was curious as to how his enemy came by a small blade,
Damian secretly fetched one of his own hidden blades from within his suit jacket’s sleeve,
pressing it against her lower back in return. The subtle widening of her chestnut-colored eyes
had Damian fighting back a cruel smirk of his own, even if a blade was still pressed against
his flesh.

As a result of their new battle strategy, both teens had to adjust every now and then to avoid a
painful prick from each other's blades, only being able to do so discreetly with elaborate step
sequences and spins that still managed to look planned and majestic. He was sure that if
anyone tried to look up their most complex dance, they’d be sorely disappointed after finding
out these were simply…spur of the moment changes.

While he still had a hundred inquiries on Stark left unanswered, Damian could at least take
comfort in knowing his enemy’s subtle sharp eyes indicated equal astonishment. Stark did not
voice her thoughts, but with each move he made, even as he got bolder and bolder to try and
scare her, she seemed to dodge the advance with mild amusement.

It was then that Damian entertained the most appalling of possibilities, that perhaps she was
just like him.

How could she possibly know how to move as he did and remain passive at the thought of a
blade against her body? Why would she even carry one if she did not know how to use it?
These could all be false inferences, Stark could very well have taken a self defense class or
two seeing as she was a public figure with Iron Man as a father. But the sharpness of her
eyes, the depths of knowledge and awareness behind them…that couldn't be faked by a mere
peasant.

Reluctantly, Damian dipped his dance partner to the beat of the music as the other couples
did, but he used that time to lean close to her ear and angrily whispered an insult he'd been
holding back since he’d crashed into her.

Brooklyn Stark didn't flinch at the words, even as he pulled her up from the dip and used a
move from his childhood to try and hit a nerve point that would not kill her, but the dizziness
would be quite unpleasant. To his surprise, the girl’s hidden scowl vanished and turned into a
smirk at the subtle action as if she knew what he’d planned, and in retaliation, went in for
another twirl not just to escape the attack. This time, instead of them resuming their spot face
to face, she spun in such a way that her back crashed against his chest, their locked hands
stretched out beside them in a flourish.

The young Stark, seemingly much more amused than before, leaned her head back just so she
could whisper close to his own ear, "You're an assassin, aren’t you?"

Damian was at a loss, like a bucket of iced water washed over his anger as he registered her
words to their full extent. Though he struggled with normal interactions, Damian would like
to think he’d mastered sarcasm and jokes by now…and this wasn’t that. Her words, however
impossible, were genuine.

The heiress continued on like nothing had happened despite the not-so-casual topic she’d
brought up, moving back to their earlier position so they could spin around the room like the
other dance partners.

Damian's carefully practiced calm was the only thing that let him follow along to the steps as
his mind tried to piece together if her comment had just been a complex insult he was
unfamiliar with. But when he looked beyond what was supposed to be possible, he too made
connections of her own peculiar behavior as well.

She hadn’t been looking around the room for her parents all this time, she’d been scouting the
area. The lack of fear at being around someone like him, the weapons she likely had hidden
within the skirts of her dress, the way she moved with such fluidity...it was too familiar, too
experienced.

Stark may have figured him out, but he had as well.

Thus, as they continued their placid steps, he leaned in and whispered against her hanging
pearl earring, "It seems that you are an assassin as well"

When he leaned back, fighting the chill running down his spine, Damian beheld Stark's red-
lipped smile widen as they spun around with interlocked hands over their heads. She merely
shrugged, and as they resumed a typical dancing position—his skin still burning with distaste
everywhere they met—Stark leaned up to his ear to whisper her response.

"I was once if you must know. But I know your fighting style well, the way you move, its
classic League of Assassins technique," she murmured like a death's caress, "If I recall
correctly, wasn’t it said that they produced the best male assassins in the world? Must not
have been true since I heard the great Ra's al Ghul, demon of all assassins, was slain by
someone named Deathstroke a few years back. What a waste, he was a true legend"

Damian swallowed hard. She knew he was from the League, knew enough about how they
fought and trained to be able to tell just by these restrained attacks alone. Even when some of
his father’s own fighting style had altered the way he approached attacks, Stark could still
tell.
How was that even possible? How could a spoiled rich girl—who apparently also doubled as
an assassin—know things with such assuredness that even in the presence of a League
assassin, she still had the nerve to be so insolent?

Perhaps those weren’t the right questions to ask.

Dipping her once again, almost close enough to reach the polished floors, Damian replied
discreetly, "You're from the League then, did my mother send you to pretend to be a Stark
just to contact me?"

It wasn’t entirely implausible that his mother would go to such extents, but she could easily
reach him personally if she wished. If a League assassin had been sent, then that meant
something was wrong. Damian had been prepared to tell the impostor to have his mother
contact him personally, but when he raised her back up, the Stark's expression was puzzled.

She knew he was an assassin, but clearly had no clue Ra's al Ghul was his grandfather, that
his mother Talia al Ghul was its current leader. So perhaps his assumptions of her being from
the League were mistaken, everyone there knew who he was.

Or maybe she was an exceptional liar.

"My parentage is real," she whispered back, fingers lingering by his nape as they set about
spinning their way to the center of the dance floor, "But I'm not from the League…I'm from
the Red Room"

There were very few times Damian allowed himself to curse, it was often useless to do so,
just mere words that couldn't often deliver as effective a blow as a sword could.

But...shit.

Damian knew of them, any assassin in the world knew of the Russian Red Room.

If the League trained the best male assassins, the Red Room was their competition of equal
caliber and respect. Everybody knew some of the best female assassins in the world emerged
from their hidden underground training academy, some of the best spies too.

Damian's mother often talked about other assassin guilds during his childhood, and the Red
Room had been among them most of the time, because despite their thin alliance, they were
first and foremost the most dedicated of competitors. In fact, if he remembered well,
Damian's grandfather often took trips to Russia just to visit them, but that was their way to
wage the weaknesses of their enemy…masked with pleasantries.

As a young boy, Damian hadn't cared to know much else seeing as the Red Room fell. But
now, everyone knew the great Black Widow, a hero, originated from such a place since all
SHIELD files were leaked years ago. She'd been the first image of a Red Room result the
young Wayne had ever seen, and even he could admit the rumors of their skill had to be
correct.
With that fact ringing in the back of his head, Damian opted to be more alert with his moves,
even if the Stark was still probably no match for him. But she wasn't the spoiled little girl
he’d assumed, not at all, and he’d be a fool to keep treating the blade against his back like a
joke.

"Well," Damian replied, careful of the eyes locked on them as he spun her slowly before him,
"I heard your Red Room was hindered a long time ago, almost to the point of extinction"

"True," she replied, not an ounce of pain or anger at the demise of her own people, "It’s fall
was unexpected, but after all these years, I'm not surprised other assassins heard of it or that
they don’t mourn it"

The two shared a silent knowing glance, an acceptance of sorts of the identities that remained
hidden under the elegant dress and the immaculate tuxedo. Damian’s family had its fair share
of individuals that had trained as assassins, but none that had truly grown with the title as he
had. Gazing into the stranger’s eyes, it was the first time in Damian’s life that he recognized
something reflected in them…and as someone who wasn’t fond of surprises or Starks, he
couldn't say he was pleased.

Spinning away from the middle of the dance floor, Damian was even more cautious of his
whispers as he added, "You're young"

The pair, once again back to their original lane, would no longer be the only ones privy to
each other's emotions without them being out in the open. Standing side by side, they both
kept their faces neutral even when their hands remained clasped between them.

The Stark took that momentary pause before they had to move to whisper, "You're one to
talk, we're the same age, though I hope that doesn’t mean we’ll have to see one another often
at these events"

In the time it took for them to go through another round of their first steps, Damian
formulated what he would say to her once she was back in his arms. Though there being an
assassin amongst them was worrisome if not troubling, that paled in comparison to the fact
that Damian’s own curiosity had grown to levels he’d never experienced before…it was a
pull that made him want to know more, no matter the uncomfortable circumstance they were
in.

That being said, he still wanted to prove he was better, that just because she’d been able to
keep up with his attacks did not mean they were of the same caliber. Damian wanted her to
apologize for her body being in the path of his momentary stumble, he wanted this stranger to
beg for forgiveness for having touched him throughout this dance.

Damian Wayne never lost a fight, and today would be no exception.

It was with that motivation in mind that, like before, he hurried the steps of the song slightly
enough to try and make her stumble at least once. He was left fighting the urge to dig that
blade deeper into her middle back when he realized her Red Room must’ve had thorough
dance training, just as he'd received.
Frustration like he’d never felt before overtook him when he recognized that no matter what
he did, he still couldn't best her. Again, his only solace from taking more violent actions
along with the possible punishment were dulled knowing but she was equally as annoyed at
her lack of victory.

"Just because we are both assassins doesn't mean I ever want to see you again, 'armala"
Damian said, unable to keep from calling her a Widow as a way to belittle his old enemy,
even if it was just in his language. Because as of right now, that's all that she was, above his
hatred of her being a Stark, her being from the Red Room was probably of greater insult.

The words finally seemed to get a reaction out of her, more so than any of his previous
attacks, just as the dance was coming to an end. Though he’d expected her to reply to
summonings of her Red Room past with prideful admittance, the girl’s eyes simmered with…
restraint.

When the dance was at its last steps, before he could dip her as the finishing move…that
discontent made itself known as she twisted in his arms, and in seconds, the Stark ended up
being the one who dipped him.

Damian was fuming as he hung at the mercy of her hold, which did not falter with his weight
once. For a second, the teen thought the Stark might just drop him right then and there as a
humiliation tactic. But such a childish act was not performed in the end, with loose curls
covering her facial expression from those undoubtedly still staring at them, Damian could
only look up into her cold eyes that were so at odds with the smirk gracing her face.

An image that would haunt him…with the need for vengeance, for days to come.

Despite wanting to get up and rid himself of the ridicule, Damian could not move. He wasn’t
sure if it was because he hadn’t seen the move coming, and the never before experienced
feeling of failure made his brain short circuit. Or perhaps it was the fact that someone had
finally dared to challenge him to the point that he’d had to put effort…

No, this could not be left to stand. Not like this, and certainly not by a Stark and member of
the Red Room.

To make matters worse, when she lifted him back up, the girl mockingly bowed at him. Then,
as perhaps the greatest shock of his day, she whispered, "Works perfectly for me, shaytan",
before leaving him there as she walked back to her table, hidden blade concealed in hand, and
hips swaying as she smirked back at him with nothing short of victory illuminating her body
(no, that was just the light from the chandeliers).

Demon. She'd called him a demon, a jab at being part of The Demon Head’s League of
Assassins, without knowing that was his grandfather and he, the legitimate heir. So why did it
bother him so much that a second-rate assassin would dare speak back at him in Arabic?!

Standing there in the middle of the dance floor with partners already retreating back to their
tables, Damian couldn’t help but keep his glare locked on the direction the Black Widow was
leaving. In those seconds that seemed to span for hours, the young Wayne debated whether or
not to rip her head off. He'd seriously considered calling her back and demanding a rematch.
Not because he’d lost…that was a draw at best. But perhaps Damian was curious if she
would be able to beat him in an actual fight, a thought that didn’t cross his mind often.

He already despised it, the doubt, but her more than anything.

More flabbergasted than angered now, Damian straightened his tie and elected to return to his
own table at the other end of the room, ignoring the confused stares and whispers from the
peasants he passed by.

When he arrived back at his seat, Grayson and Drake were sitting silently in shock, their eyes
locked on a dance floor that was devoid of partners. He considered grabbing them by the hair
and bashing their heads against the table. If blood ruined the white mantle, Bruce could take
the money out of Damian’s substantial bank account that wouldn't even feel the dent.

Then the eldest pivoted to face Damian so quickly the teen almost relented a step back,
instead choosing to sit on the opposite side of the table as if nothing was wrong.

"What the hell was that?" Grayson asked, slamming his hands on the table as dramatically as
always, "You guys looked like you were about to have hate-sex up there!"

Damian scoffed, fighting the urge to fist the table knife nearby as he answered without an
ounce of emotion, "Don't be crude, your words are far from the truth, as always"

Any further comments were halted when father and his harlot arrived, staring down at
Damian as if he'd grown a second head. As per usual, Damian ignored Selina Kyle
completely when the two took a seat on the other end of the table beside Grayson and Drake.

He didn’t want to hear further ridiculous exclamations, scoldings, or questions. Damian had
done what he did to gather intel, and it was time everyone at the table thanked him for his
sacrifice. His hands…he could still feel the warmth from Stark’s own atop his skin.

"It seems there is more to Miss Stark than meets the eye, father," he said to the table, briefly
turning to catch a glimpse of the girl between passing individuals, beheld that she was
already surrounded by her concerned parents at their own table as far away from him as
possible.

Stark smiled like nothing was wrong, accepting embraces from both parents before they
settled down to eat the hot meal before them. There was no sign of the intensity of her eyes,
the hidden blades concealed by fabric…

Damian's father cleared his throat, unnecessarily looking back towards the Stark table and
then Damian himself.

"More than meets the eye? Well, I had no idea you...would ever find someone interesting
enough to dance with. But still, I feel I must encourage you not to involve yourself with the
likes of a Stark, you know better" his father said, almost making Damian gag.

Bruce Wayne, the self-proclaimed greatest detective in the world, actually inferred that the
events of a few minutes ago were caused by hormones and lust? Had he, in a parental frenzy,
 not noticed the hidden blades, the battle that had been waged before him?

Damian would walk over hot burning coals before he ever touched that widow again.

"Don't be absurd, what I meant is that she's like me" he clarified, only for Drake's five
remaining braincells to ask, "Annoying? Rude? Arrogant? Spoiled? Selfish?"

Damian felt his brow twitch simply by the sound of his voice, and the most passive comment
he could force himself to relent was, "Are those all the words your pathetic brain could come
up with? You’d be wise to open up a dictionary some time"

Placing the folded napkin from his plate onto his lap as gracefully as he could in case the
enemy was watching, Damian added, “Did you not see what was truly going on out there?
None of you?”

Bruce quickly cut Drake off before he could attempt another low-intelligence fueled reply,
eyes wide and hand against his temple as he inquired, "I thought you were guiding the dance
like that. Was it her?"

Damian shook his head subtly, "It was both of us…she's an assassin too"

The table went quiet as another piece of classical music began floating around the room.
Damian could tell they were all fighting not to look back towards the Stark table. But there
was no doubt in his mind that the girl had spoken the truth, yet Damian was curious as to
what Bruce would do about it now.

Chapter End Notes

It's Batfam time...

 The Messenger

Brooklyn POV-

After a more-than-decent meal that did little to ease the chaos of emotions swirling through
her mind, Brooklyn was led along the room by her father and Pepper to engage in casual
socializing that would hopefully aid them in scouting dangers.

Now that the reporters and cameras were gone, that food was consumed and original jitters of
the start of the event were long forgotten, it seemed everyone was a little more at ease when
they spoke.

That wasn't to say that the wealth of the country was any different from earlier. Most of the
people Brook spoke to were interested in business alliances, projects, more focused on the
future than the eminent present. Though Brook supposed she couldn't blame them for their
naiveness, maybe that was the true burden of following a heroic path…being cursed with the
knowledge that danger was at every corner and trying to make sure the world never learned
of it.

Her sympathy for most was rather short lived the longer conversations went on. Unlike the
Richards couple, others she’d spoken to weren't as humble, but some were outright odd.

For instance, the man she'd just danced with was named Kyle Richmond, CEO of Richmond
Enterprises (shocker right?), who had spent most of his time talking to Brooklyn about the
state of the world rather than trying to snatch a friendship with the future CEO of Stark
Industries.

The man himself was peculiar in terms of his interests but not as much as his acquaintance,
the only notable mutant in the room, who had been a center of attention for Brook since she’d
caught sight of him amongst the crowds. To be fair, with those massive white-feathered
wings tucked along the back of his suit, he was a very unusual sight. Yet despite the many
mixed gazes from the people around him, the mutant seemed at ease, which at first made
Brooklyn wonder if perhaps he was the one with the intention to cause chaos here.

Brooklyn had only met a handful of mutants in her life, some of which she hadn't even been
entirely certain contained any form of a mutation. In this era of the world, that particular
topic of enhanced humans was sensitive for many who chose to keep their differences a
secret to avoid trouble. It was always hard to tell…unless it was so obvious as having a man
with wings standing in your midsts.

Though most mutants tried to hide to avoid judgment, this man was not, and though that
could be due to the fact that those massive wings would be a difficult thing to conceal…the
way he carried himself told her that he wasn’t bothering with pretending to be normal. If he
was proud of his heritage, could that mean that he was planning to attack this place as a form
of retaliation for the treatment of his people, to send a message or revolution like the small
groups of mutants unwilling to accept cruelty?
Brook did her best to keep all suspicions unseen as the man finally approached the Starks.

The winged man had introduced himself as Warren Worthington III, CEO of Worthington
Industries (another ‘great shocker’). But the introduction had only been for her benefit,
because Tony and Pepper greeted him fondly in an instant as if they’d known each other for a
long time.

Maybe it was her distrustful nature, but Brooklyn noted each and every movement the man
made as the adults continued their conversation that ranged from fond memories of the past
to wishes for the future. When the mention of Xavier's school—the same the Reeds family
had mentioned earlier— was brought up again for the second time in one night, Brooklyn
tuned back into the conversation.

Apparently, the blond man before her had been a student at that mutant school. A school that
Wanda Maximoff had attended, Mr. Worthington’s brief mentions of classes the two had
shared led Brook to believe that they might have actually been good friends.

It was through the conversation with Mr. Worthington that Brooklyn learned actual new
information, the most prominent being that Stark Industries was a strong supporter of mutant
rights, a place that had hired humans and mutants alike these past years with no segregation.

Mr. Worthington had been quite pleased when her otets brought up the statistics of the
program as well as the success behind it. The mutant even told Brooklyn was welcome to
visit Xavier's, mentioning someone simply addressed as the professor would be happy to
meet Tony Stark's daughter.

Brook had a feeling the man knew of her distrust, and maybe he thought it would be in his
best interest if she went to experience mutants in their element not just to change her mind…
to continue the program at Stark Industries in the future. If those were his ambitions behind
the offer, Brooklyn couldn't really blame him considering that out of the big companies in the
world, Worthington Industries and Stark Industries were probably the only ones enforcing
such a progressive idea.

As Brooklyn had been reminded all night, she was the future of the company, and people
trying to sway her ideas would likely be a common occurrence. But Mr. Worthington’s smile
had been genuine, and he hadn’t once asked anything about her appearance in society or
pestered her for a future project.

Out of all proposals she’d heard tonight, his was probably the one that went beyond his
company.

As soon as the man bid them farewell, Pepper linked her arm through Brook’s and gently
whispered as they moved to the next social circle, "Do you not like mutants?"

Had her cautiousness been that noticeable?

Brooklyn shook her head, "It's not that I don't like them. I'm not one of the fanatics who
wants them dead or obliterated off the face of the Earth to preserve a pure 'humanity'. I've just
not met that many of them in my life, and they make my...old instincts...nervous. I don't know
where I would stand against them in a fight, there is no guaranteed win"

Linking her other arm with his, Stark laughed and whispered, "I guess that makes sense"

"Still, "Brooklyn added, trying not to bask in their comforting presence as they glided
through the room, "I'm…glad Stark Industries is giving people a chance. I guess it's not the
mutants’ fault that they are what they are" just like Brook.

She hadn't wanted to be an assassin, but she'd been turned into one nonetheless, some would
even say she’d been born into it. Besides, mutants were still humans, and as much as
someone like Ivan would say they were a danger not worth leaving to strengthen and fester…
Brooklyn’s only problem were aliens, a deeply engraved distaste born out of the battle of
New York.

Mr. Worthington had been wasting his breath if he thought she needed convincing to aid his
cause. Brooklyn would keep the Stark Industries program going, give the outcasts a chance,
after all Wanda had proven herself capable of using her skills for good.

With that in mind, Brook admitted, "Besides, Wanda is alright I suppose, certainly nowhere
near the threat the world imagines her to be when all she longs for is to do the right thing. I
suppose I’ve also grown used to her magic and have spotted its strengths and faults. As long
as I know something has a weakness…I have no major problem with it"

Pepper and Tony paused their steps.

"Brooklyn, Wanda isn't a mutant," Pepper pointed out, "HYDRA gave her those abilities,
both her and her brother were experimented on in their youth"

Wanda had a brother? She wasn’t a mutant?

When Stark beheld her widened eyes, he added "You saw all that stuff in the news about the
magic glow stick of density Loki had when he came to Earth, remember that?"

Of course she had heard about it in the news, but she’d also seen it up close during the battle.
That device had blown cars into the air during the battle as Loki flew by, one of those cars
had almost landed right on Brooklyn's body, and she'd silently cursed the god of mischief
senseless until the fight was done.

At the time, she’d thought it a simple alien weapon like the ones the foot soldiers had. It
wasn’t until years later when she’d seen the Avengers were looking for leads on the missing
staff that she’d figured something was different about it, that or someone wanted the device
in a museum.

"That staff gave her powers?” Brook questioned, “So Wanda is not a mutant?"

Stark nodded, whispering, "After the events of Lagos, when Wanda lost control of her magic
and house arrests came into play, Fury suggested Wanda go to a school for mutants to prevent
other accidents from happening. We all figured since mutants had a wide range of abilities,
the professor would have no trouble taking on the task. What you have seen now is months of
practice at Xavier's on Wanda’s part"

That made more sense at least, though perhaps one day she’d bother to figure out just how
Wanda Maximoff had become so strong with an alien object. If that was true, who was to say
the enemy wasn’t already planning to experiment with humans as much as they had been
doing with the weapons they were altering for their nefarious means.

Before she could even suggest that to her otets, both of her parents were interrupted by the
next guest that approached them. With her presence not required at the moment, Brooklyn
took the chance to scan the room again, she still had a possible criminal to find after all.

As her eyes roamed the expansive crowds, she was displeased to see many eyes were on her
already. They undoubtedly were looking for openings to ask her to dance, which is why Stark
and Pepper had remained by her sides all this time.

Her otets had taken the accidental dance with the Wayne most seriously. He would’ve likely
become even more concerned if she’d mentioned he was an assassin, which is exactly why
she’d refrained from doing so, especially when she was still wondering what to do with the
information.

Speaking of which, of all the attention on her, the most disturbing came from the Wayne table
on the other side of the room. Though the family seemed to be lost in their own hushed
conversation, Damian Wayne's glare was on her in seconds, their eyes meeting despite the
moving crowds between them.

Still proud of the small victory of humiliating the guy during their unprompted dance,
Brooklyn dared to shoot a playful smirk his way before looking elsewhere. He wasn't worth
any more of her attention, assassin or no. Members of the League weren’t exactly known as
invincible adversaries to a trained Black Widow, the fact that she’d met one here of all places
would likely end up being a funny coincidence in a few days when the shock died down. The
fact that he was also a Wayne, her family enemy…well, that might never go away.

Perhaps Brook should've told her otets about that boy being an assassin, but as soon as she
ended the dance, Stark had nearly popped her ear drums with high-pitched questions as to
why she was dancing with a Wayne. Brook had honestly thought it might induce a panic
attack.

She'd had to patently explain the incident that brought them together, which prevented the
pair from backing away from each other. Brooklyn had also assured her father the encounter
had only made her hate the young Wayne even more than before, but she left her own
frustrations and bewilderment out of the statement. It wasn’t always that Brooklyn was
almost bested, after all.

Looking into those distant emerald orbs, Brook was reminded that Pepper had said something
about the dance having been very romantic, at which point Brooklyn couldn't help but be
disgusted. That had not been a tango of romance, but a battle of wits and brains.

Anyone who thought otherwise was delusional.

Stark had actually praised her for the final dip at the end, saying she'd be a natural at keeping
the Wayne-Stark rivalry alive. It was said with pride, which led her to believe that if she
glared at the Wayne during the few times they’d likely cross paths in their lives…it would
make her otets happy. Brook could go ahead and pretend the assassin thing wasn’t worth
exploring if that was the case.

Still, Stark made her swear she'd burn her dress after the event since a Wayne had touched it.

As Brooklyn walked away from her parents to catch some air at one of the least crowded
areas nearby, glancing down at the swaying and voluminous skies of her dress, Brooklyn was
one again reminded of the steady presence of the Wayne’s hands against back, of the blade
that had been there like a silent threat.

She recalled the faint callouses of his hands that matched her own, the way his steady
breathing matched hers no matter the intensity of the dance or the secrets two enemies of
their caliber should’ve never shared. In all her life, Brooklyn had never been more astounded
by a person in her life…at least not the way she’d been dancing with Damian Wayne.

If it weren't for a possible threat being loose around here, she might actually bother to process
everything that had happened properly. Even if the Wayne had admitted to being a League
assassin, somehow she’d known he hadn’t been the danger she’d been looking for. He’d just
been a danger like her…a slumbering beast, fangs kept behind closed lips, both holding back
the extent of their skills.

Sneaking another glance at him, Brooklyn wondered why he was staring at her like that. It
went beyond the rage he must be feeling after the humiliation she put him through…she
couldn’t quite make it out, that intensity behind his cold eyes. Maybe when she got home
she’d find the will to forget their little encounter…or maybe she’d google the hell out of him
to quell the thousand questions inside her head.

"Hey there," a voice suddenly said behind her, drawing her gaze away from the Wayne and
shifting it quickly towards the busy dance floor,"care to dance?"

Brooklyn was sick and tired of dancing, she'd stepped on the dance floor so many times
already she wasn't sure if her feet could keep up. But that voice...she couldn’t help but smile,
keeping her back to the person.

"I don't want to dance anymore. I'm honestly shocked you can still think about it when every
woman here has asked you to dance tonight, your feet must be as worn out as my own"
Brooklyn said at last turning to see Harry's wide grin.

He was leaning on a nearby marble pillar, casually playing with the sleeves of his gray suit
when he motioned to the lively dancing behind them.

"So you can dance with Bruce Jr but not me? Must you hurt me like this, I thought we were
friends?" Harry said, and though Brook would like to think her group of friends had no
massive sway on her yet, his words had successfully made her agree to one dance and one
dance only.
Brooklyn took Harry's hand after making him swear never to bring up that dance with that
demon ever again. He’d merely chuckled and pulled her towards the partners lifting the
women into what looked like blooming flowers swaying in the air as their skirts flowed
around them.

When they stepped onto the dance floor, the music had changed from its mellow tunes to
something more upbeat that earlier in the night, equally as regal though. Harry mentioned it
was an orchestral version of a popular song she was obviously not familiar with, but was
lively and fun, much like the songs that had played at her first football game when she’d
danced with their other friends for the first time.

Since Brooklyn was unfamiliar with dancing to this type of melody that did not require strict
step sequences, she let Harry lead the dance. Overall, it was a fun time even if she was keenly
aware it was a waste of precious time for her mission…but there was something about
dancing with someone she knew that eased some of the nerves and tension she’d been
carrying since stepping foot out of the limousine.

Lost in the mirth and melody, Harry spun her around a few times as wildly as possible,
bringing their bodies close as he whispered information about the couples dancing around
them (mostly about cheating scandals and wealth changes).

Though she listened to every bit of information, storing strengths and weaknesses of those
around her for future use, while she let herself be spun around, Brooklyn’s keen eyes scanned
the massive room as her friend unconsciously helped her cross off possible targets with his
casual gossiping. In fact, it was thanks to Harry that she learned that there would be a 'group
photo' to commemorate the occasion in about an hour.

If Brook were an assassin, which she was, that would be the time someone would choose to
strike. Everyone in one place, lined up perfectly still...it was too good a moment to miss to
guarantee the most casualties during an attack.

Unfortunately, that meant Brooklyn and her family had an hour to find the possible criminal.

Considering the size of the place and the amount of people in the room, it was almost
impossible to guarantee success before then.

Almost.

As Harry spun her away from his body with a chuckle, it was as if time slowed when Brook
caught a better sight of someone by the food tables, a man who'd gazed around the room for
the fifth time in the past few minutes. From what she had observed, the stranger was alone,
no one had approached him for conversation, an oddity at a social event like this.

Then there were the more subtle hints;

His shoes were littered with specs of dried up dirt, something none of the rich members in
this room would allow lest it hurt their reputation. Then there was also the large suit jacket
that was slightly too big for his frame, something anyone could’ve mistaken as him being
overweight were it not for the fact that his suit shirt caved inwards awkwardly if one looked
close enough.

How he'd slipped past security, Brooklyn could only imagine.

Happy had been very adamant about being involved in the security layout of this place,
which would make it almost impossible to breach unless the person was skilled. Or there was
more than one person who’d infiltrated the gala for a nefarious purpose…

When Brook noticed the suspect leaving the room, most likely headed somewhere to get
ready for the attack of the nearing group photo, Brooklyn knew she had to act immediately.

There were far too many unguarded positions inside the museum where the man could take
aim, from the beams of the domed roofs to the various indoor balconies overlooking the
massive space…even more so if he was a skilled shooter or had a strong enough bomb he
could just throw down towards his targets.

As soon as Harry spun her back towards his chest, time resumed its normal pace and
Brooklyn realized her friend was still talking, unaware of the imminent danger. Which is how
things had to remain, he couldn't know any of what was about to happen or what she would
do about it…no one could.

"Why are you looking around the room? Don't tell me you're trying to sneak off to another
dance with Wayne Jr, because I’ll have you know that his very odd kindness of not tracking
you after the stunt you pulled is likely a once in a lifetime occurrence. He once gathered five
reporter’s microphones and threw them onto a fountain because they asked how he was doing
that day, if you approach him again he’d likely rip off your pearl necklace, feed you said
pearls until you choked on them, and then actually choke you with the remaining string"

Despite Brook's determination to stop the intruder, her friend's words made her pause with
disgust and mild amusement at the thought of the Wayne being able to hurt her when he was
nothing more than a stray assassin. Or at least that's what she told herself so her thoughts of
the odd teen would remain fleeting and unimportant.

"Hell no," she whispered back, "Damian Wayne a waste of good looks, nothing more. Plus,
we’re both family enemies now, its official"

Despite her reassurance, Harry gasped and added dramatically, "I'm better looking though,
right?"

Was her friend serious? Oh god…he actually was.

Those eyes of his had never shone with such hope at the careless slip of the tongue when
insulting the Wayne.

Keeping a subtle eye on her retreating target, Brooklyn smirked at her friend's stupidity,
"Sure you are, but don't let Donna hear me say that"
Her dance partner stopped their spinning, shooting Brook an all too familiar confused look
when he asked who Donna was. From what the others had mentioned, Harry’s careless dating
habits truly were living up to their name, yet she couldn't help but fight back a smile at the
oddity that was her friend.

Rolling her eyes, Brooklyn managed to say rather calmly, "She's your current girlfriend,
remember? You know, the one whose face you were practically swallowing on Monday?"

A lightbulb seemed to go off inside his head, "Right! That's her name!"

With a snort, Brooklyn untangled her arms from his, making an awkward gesture to the edge
of the dance floor as she said, "I think that's enough dancing for one night, my feet are killing
me. I'll see you in a bit, ok?"

Harry placed a hand on her arm, halting her movements as the two stood amidst the dancing
couples.

"I wanna come too, I'm bored! Where are you headed?" her friend whined.

Brooklyn watched as the possible criminal disappeared down one of the back doors she’d
spotted upon entry. If she didn't hurry, she'd lose all traces of him down the winding halls
beyond that she’d yet to explore and memorize. Her only hope for success was being able to
follow him closely.

Though Harry would never know she was doing this to possibly save his life, Brooklyn
turned back to her friend and made up the excuse of going to the restroom, thinking that
would deter her friend from following. Of course, Brooklyn failed to remember that someone
like Harry Osborn had no shame and was stuck in a room where the only person she cared to
spend time with was her. Under any other circumstance, it might’ve been flattering to be
considered better company than the masses…but she really needed to prevent a possible mass
murder.

With a wink, Harry playfully whispered, "You should ask a guy out before inviting them to a
lonely bathroom with you. How bold, Miss Stark!"

With a sigh, the ex-assassin gently slapped her friend on the arm and muttered, "You're not
coming with me. If you want to seek refuge from everyone, then go make conversation with
my parents. I’ll be back soon enough"

He shot her a saddening pout, but once Brooklyn backed up a few steps, a woman was quick
to approach and ask Harry for a dance. One he was forced to accept when Brooklyn smiled at
the woman and stepped further back.

After a mocking wink to her friend she hoped looked convincing of the fact that nothing was
amiss, the assassin left the new pair to start their dance as she made her way through the
other dancing partners, subtly reaching to comb through her hair to conceal the act of turning
on the small earpiece hidden within.
Maybe phones weren't allowed inside at events like these, but her otets had insisted ear pieces
were a smart move in case they were ever separated or something went wrong. Besides, even
if it was still against some predetermined rule, since when did Stark’s follow those to the
letter?

In seconds, the crackling of the line coming on almost made her flinch, but then the teen
heard her...her parents...laughing on the other end of the line. Thanks to the loud music
around her, Brooklyn was able to talk without grabbing attention to herself as she passed by
as casually as possible through the crowds of people trying to snag her for a dance.

"I have eyes on the possible culprit," she whispered.

On the other side of the dance floor, Brooklyn noticed when Pepper and Tony paused their
dancing, looking around for her no doubt to regroup. But there was no time for that, much
less for safety talks or arguments of who would follow the target…Brook would not be able
to catch up to the retreating subject if she did, so no matter what SHIELD rules she might be
breaking by going off on her own, the teen did her best to mask herself from their view
within the crowds.

Maybe…just maybe, she also selfishly wanted them here amongst the others, safe from
whatever trouble or ambush might befall whoever followed the criminal.

Not to mention this was an issue that could easily be solved by Brook alone, there was no
need for Iron Man or Happy to get involved in her first mission when she was more than
capable of handling it.

"Where are you? Don’t engage the target till I get there," Stark's voice commanded in her
ear.

Already having decided to keep her father as far away from these alien weapons as possible,
she merely answered back, "Don't bother, I got it. Whatever you do, don't line up for the
group photo unless I'm back. I'll tell you where I am once the situation is in order…just make
sure everyone is safe till then"

Sneaking a quick peek between two male bodies behind her, Brooklyn noticed Pepper
initiating another dance with her fiancee, a ruse to get close to Tony's comm device so she
could whisper, "I don’t think we’d be able to rush to you without attracting attention
anyways, we have too many eyes on us. Just promise that if it gets too dangerous, you’ll stop
and come get Tony"

"What!? Pepper—" her father was cut off as Pepper muttered, "She can handle it, Tony. You
know she can, otherwise you wouldn’t have let her come. So just stay safe, Brook…we love
you"

Brook barely had time to register Pepper’s blessing to go and the truth she’d admitted before
she heard Tony whisper with just as much raw conviction, “We do love you, Daphne. Give
them hell…”
Their words made Brooklyn pause for a few seconds amidst the flow of people. Even when
there was a target to follow, the teen couldn't help but stand there, arms still frozen clutching
her skirts so she wouldn't trip as she walked. They...they had never said those words, nor had
she ever expected to be on the receiving end of them. But the worry in Pepper’s tender
whisper, the strength in Tony’s voice that left no room to wonder if such words could be a lie
or a spur of the moment act of motivation for the mission to come.

Both had meant it, and that word that had been missing in Brooklyn’s life all these years was
finally presented as a gift the teen had no clue she’d longed for until now that she’d received
it.

Love. They loved her.

More than that, they proved they did by trusting her to engage this danger alone. Brook still
wasn’t sure what the complexities of love entailed, but she did understand one thing…to an
assassin trust was everything, it went against every instinct, and if it was given or received
that meant the bond between them was a strong one. Stronger than the steel of a dagger, truer
than the path of a bullet, and worth more than the command of a master.

Trust was the greatest show of emotion an assassin could likely experience, their most
treasured belonging that was not given easily. Yet she trusted Pepper and Tony, cared for
them beyond her own safety, past her own fleeting fears.

They had given her a chance to start again and no matter what they’d faced or how difficult
Brooklyn had been, they had not set her aside as others in the past had. It's why she’d proudly
called them her parents earlier, why she would continue to do so once this was over…once
they were safe.

Going back to her weaving through the crowds, replying to a few greetings here and there,
Brooklyn dared to whisper back, "I love you guys too" before turning off her earpiece and
disappearing into the back room.

Damian POV-

That Stark girl was suspicious, more so that he'd originally thought and beyond the confines
of his personal anger against her. It's why he’d been watching her every move as any
reputable vigilante worth his salt would do.

Unfortunately, that's not what the others saw.

"You’re kidding me…Damian, are you still staring at her? If you're thinking about killing the
Stark, I feel like I should remind you that doing so would get us all killed by Iron Man before
we can lift a weapon" Grayson said beside him, also turning his gaze to the girl twirling
around on the dance floor with that insufferable Osborn.

She was smiling at him, the two so lost in conversation Damian wondered if Osborn was
perhaps not the useless wimp he’d assumed the teen to be all these years. Perhaps they were
both assassins, plotting evil deeds…but that was highly unlikely considering Damian had
deemed Osborn nothing but a talkative nuisance years ago.

Yet it irked him, those wide and unfiltered smiles that were just barely restrained enough that
Damian figured that wasn’t the happiest his enemy could be.

Of course, there was also the fact that when she turned to look at him…dared to taunt him,
Damian briefly considered doing exactly as Grayson was trying to discourage him from
doing. The hidden blade masked by his suit jacket’s sleeve was a warm presence in the chill
of his fury.

To further his annoyance, Drake had the audacity to laugh at the situation in hand, spouting
jokingly, "I think he's just bothered she's found a new dance partner, one who actually
bothers to smile"

Damian felt his eye twitch in restraint.

He might have continued to suffer from their misplaced teasing when he suddenly noticed the
girl was making her way out of the room, weaving expertly through the crowds to avoid
anyone’s eyes from lingering on her for too long...whispering to herself. On the other side of
the room where the dance floor lay, the young Wayne noted Mr. Stark's panicked eyes, the
way his wife tried to soothe him, and that was enough for Damian to suspect something was
amiss.

Being in a building with another assassin was putting him on edge, and a part of him had
hoped the Stark would try doing something stupid so he could turn her into the cops with a
viable excuse. To finally get her out of his mind forever.

Maybe this would be his chance to prove his suspicions correct after all. So, without
bothering to excuse himself from the table, Damian slowly followed the red dress
disappearing into the back rooms, despite the calls of his name fading in the distance. He was
careful not to be seen, using the stealth of Robin to quickly become nothing but an
inconsequential shadow for those around him.

It wasn’t until he closed the mahogany door behind him without a creak or a thud that
Damian forewent all his reservations and fetched two Batarangs from behind his tie, simple
blades whose not-so-delicate wings could pierce through skin with ease. He made sure to
keep a distance as he followed along the darkened, and currently unused lavish hallways,
following the sight of her long dress skirts since her footsteps were equally as silent as his
own.

He had no time for speculations or regrets as they made it deeper into the closed off sections
of the gallery. Brooklyn Stark did not stop at any of the rooms containing the priceless works
of art, didn’t even spare a glance at the various paintings and sculptures as she weaved
through the dark hallways at a quickened pace, only stopping briefly at corners.

Damian had wondered briefly if the Stark had intended to come to the event to steal, but
seeing as he claimed to be the genuine daughter of the billionaire, Mr. Stark…she couldn't
possibly have the need for such things. As someone who had paintings on display here under
an alias, of course it would’ve been his concern if they had been stolen.

But it was almost as if she were searching for something…or someone.

Surprisingly, the girl did not go to the upper level display rooms where more priceless pieces
were held, nor did she venture to a lounge in one of the many lonely balconies for a retreat
from the chaos downstairs. Though Damian still had no clue what her motives could be, it
almost made a smug smirk appear on his face, knowing his instincts had been right about her.

What he didn't fully predict was the path she led him to.

They'd both had to go through an Employee's Only exit, down some dark and cramped stone
hall filled with large pipes and heat emanating from them. It had to be a place of
maintenance, one that increasingly grew very hot as he carefully followed its path…but not
hot enough that the cluster of familiar crimson fabric on the floor was justified.

The sight of the discarded dress almost made Damian pause his investigation, keeping from
following down the steaming hallways for a few precious seconds. He couldn't help but
wonder if she perhaps snuck out of the room not for nefarious purposes…but rather to be
alone with someone for less than acceptable activities.

He wondered if following along would only lead to a most unpleasant sight of two lovers lost
in the throws of passion, but the only noise in the hall was of the pressure of the pipes and the
faint echoing of steps in the distance he knew belonged to the girl’s heels.

Nothing inappropriate yet.

Before turning the corner, Damian leaned against the cold wallpaper, hoping he wouldn't see
a naked girl once he dared a peek. To his relief, that wasn't what he found, instead he came
across a small hallway bordered with a metal railing, below the large space was filled with
various machines, puffs of smoke emanating up from some of them.

Heaters. Water pipes. Cooling chambers. It had to be the maintenance room under the
building.

Damian almost considered heading down to inspect everything better or to try and keep
trailing the Stark, when suddenly, he heard a noise. As quickly as he could, Damian stopped,
ducking behind a wooden crate leaning against the railing, suddenly glad some of the smoke
in the room would help obscure his form.

From his hideout, he was still able to see what was going on unseen, but he kept the two
trusty Batarangs close, his hold on them tightening when he got a better look at the scene
below.

There she was, that bright auburn hair, those crimson lips. The Stark was thankfully not
naked, but in a skin tight black suit meant for agility. Her company was also not what he'd
predicted, instead of a lover…there was a completely different scene.
Before the Stark was a man or average built clad in a simple tuxedo, a person Damian did not
recognize but could easily guess was one of the guests meant to be upstairs, what caught his
attention was the fact that said man was pointing a gun at her. A simple handgun he kept
pointed at the Stark’s forehead once he noticed the Stark blocked his path.

Damian’s family enemy didn't appear distressed in the least, she just leaned back onto one of
the large machines as she pointed at the weapon in the man’s hand.

"Don't tell me you were planning to kill someone with that gun. Something tells me you have
something much more powerful than that if you bothered sneaking in here" she stated, slowly
moving to take off her heels, the only part of her old attire that remained along with the
golden hair clips.

The man who’d previously seemed more like a person caught red handed suddenly shifted his
expression into something wicked, like someone who might very well pull that trigger and
not feel an ounce of regret. Standing a few feet from her, the stranger smirked and said, "I
guess I shouldn’t be so surprised Iron man’s daughter would know about the weapon's
business going around. Is that why you’re here, because you think you can stop me, little
girl? Or are you waiting for daddy to save you?"

Weapons…the alien weapons?

Coincidentally, he knew about that too. Damian and the others in his family had been
working day and night to stop the spread of those abysmal things since they surfaced in
Gotham a few months ago. Currently, some of his 'siblings' were out in pursuit against a few
of those dealers, but he'd never imagined a Stark would be involved in this.

How did she know there would be one of those people here? Most importantly, how had
Damian’s father missed this intel? How come Batman, the greatest detective in the world —
who'd been investigating ALL the gangs in Gotham thoroughly for involvement with alien
weaponry— did not know one of these weapon dealers was coming to the very event they’d
chosen to attend?

Maybe it was because this was Metropolis and not Gotham, but even so father had always
meddled in the matters of Superman’s city. Yet, if he had known something would be amiss
and that was their reason for attending this pathetic event, father would’ve told them.

It seemed father was wrong about many things, including his earlier complaint that the
Avengers weren't doing something about the criminals let loose around the country. Clearly,
Iron Man wasn’t just here to party and introduce his daughter to the world.

Below, the Stark smirked once the man pulled out a large rifle glowing with blue light from
within his tux, a weapon just like the one that had almost shot Damian's father two weeks ago
during patrols. A weapon whose blast had disintegrated an entire lamppost.

Damian and the others had come across a large variety of weapons in the meantime, each
more bizarre than the last, but all dangerous nonetheless. Despite his anger, Damian almost
wondered if he was about to behold the Stark’s death.
"Who were you planning to kill with that?" the girl asked innocently, as if she hadn't tried to
activate painful pressure points on Damian earlier. As if she wasn’t dangerous and the
situation she was in was not worth sweating about.

The criminal replied confidently, now more at ease since he felt he had the upper hand with
that weapon of his.

"I'm not here to kill anyone, I'm just the messenger for the survivors...THEY are here to kill"

As in on cue, three figures emerged from the shadows behind the man, and these new
intruders were not in suits like their counterpart, but were soaking wet and held similar
glowing weapons that were now also pointed at the Stark.

They were also wearing black masks, obscuring their features.

None of them looked particularly inconvenienced or bothered by Stark’s presence, though

they were likely wondering who else knew of their location if their looking around was any
indication of said distress. Meaning they had planned to kill her anyways…likely along with
everyone upstairs.

Damian considered going back to his table so his father could inform Superman of the issue
—since this was the alien’s territory—but he immediately halted his retreat once he heard the
Stark chuckle below. The sound of someone who’d already won, the sound of a predator that
had prey just where they wanted them.

“You let the others in through the water pipes, smart. They have the weapons you couldn't
sneak inside, tools I assume you want to use to blow up this building. We’re standing right
below where the group photo will take place…which I assume was your target" she said,
clapping slowly.

Damian quickly moved to crouch back behind the crate, and though he had no plans to aid
the Stark by any means, he still pulled out one of his retractable katanas, keeping its usual
blue glow at bay to remain unseen. He wasn’t going to save her…he was just getting ready in
case she failed and he needed to save anyone upstairs that was put in danger.

Down below, one of the men replied, "Like that plan, sweetheart? You won't once your dad
finds your disintegrated body, or rather what remains of it, on this floor. We’ll make sure to
keep him alive long enough to see it…consider it a parting gift for your foolish bravery. Then
he’ll join you along with everyone upstairs"

The Stark let out a tired sigh, running a finger delicately along the surface of the massive pipe
behind her, as if inspecting for dust.

"I'm afraid that can't happen. I promised my family I'd be back safe and sound, not to
mention I have a Spanish test on Monday I simply can't miss," the girl replied, almost
sending Damian into a fit of irrational frustration that would’ve likely had him jumping down
into the fray if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't entirely sure what side of morality she
stood with.
But it would appear that his...barely present concern was misplaced. Seconds after the words
left her mouth, the teen pounced without warning.

True to her earlier words during their shared dance, there was no mistaking Stark was a
trained assassin of high caliber. The way she weaved around her enemies, avoided blasts, it
was all due to meticulous training Damian was far too familiar with.

Stark incapacitated the wet criminals first, using their sorry states to her advantage by
tripping them over the puddles by their feet. She then broke a few limbs here and there,
sending screams echoing across the sturdy metal walls like a cruel chorus to the classical
music still playing upstairs even Damian could still faintly hear.

Those that had retreated further back, that were a little more…trigger happy with their shots,
got special treatment. The golden pins holding the top half of the Stark’s hair had pointed tips
previously hidden within the tresses of her auburn hair, a weapon Damian had not predicted.
The teen’s aim was flawless as she threw them after a body roll, the two metal pieces finding
their marks on the sensitive and delicate tissue of their hands.

Damian hissed silently at the sight, becoming fully aware that had she willed it, those pins
could have embedded themselves in the criminal’s hearts. He wasn’t squeamish in the least,
and seeing as the criminals needed to be stopped now to save lives…he likely would’ve done
the same.

But despite his past as the heir of the League of Assassins, Damian lived by a code now, a set
of rules enforced by his father that could not be negotiated. Killing was not justice served, but
vengeance unlawfully pursued. Not everyone he knew lived by that code, but as someone
who’d taken murder to a new degree since the begging of his time at Wayne Manor, Damian
had a lot to prove, so now that vow not to kill was everything…it was the cruel foundation of
who he was and some days, it was all that mattered.

Had the Stark left things as they were, he might’ve not solidified his belief that the teenager
below was, and always would be, an enemy of his. His hatred for her and the Starks would've
remained, but the burning rage in his chest would not exist as strongly as it did now.

Once the criminals were rendered unconscious at her feet, Damian was the only one to bear
witness to the sight of the Stark taking out a gun from her belt, a small weapon that could fit
almost anywhere inconspicuously.

Even with the stray pipes in the way obscuring the villains on the floor, he watched as the
daughter of a renown hero of the world shot the men without an ounce of hesitation. The
gunshots echoed along the empty space with a finality that had Damian clenching his katana
together, wondering if he should jump down and confront her.

Damian’s plan came to a halt when he realized Brooklyn Stark turned back to face one of the
massive machines emitting smoke from its surface, where the original criminal she must have
followed here sat on the floor clutching his bleeding hand that turned the white shirt under his
tux a crimson red.
With her attention on him, the man quickly dropped his glowing weapon by now, shifted to
kneel on his knees with a tear stained face. All the valor he'd displayed earlier was long gone
when a weapon was now pointed at him, the same pocket gun the girl had used to kill his
companions. Stark seemed to notice it too, because she smirked as a puddle began to form at
his feet even when he'd been the only one not exposed to the pipes.

"Are there any more of you here? Any lookouts or fail-safes up at the party I should worry
about?" Stark asked, voice cold and serious.

The criminal, now eager to cooperate to spare his own life, began babbling like an idiot, "No.
It was just us that were meant to place the explosives then leave. Please don't...don't kill me"

The girl sighed, "Just answer my questions and we'll see what your fate will be. Who sent
you? How did you get the weapons in the first place?"

The man's arms began to shake, and his tears magnified until the Stark cleared her throat
when her patience ran out.

"We're just a small gang in Metropolis trying to make our name known. When the boss got a
hold of these weapons we decided to strike the biggest event of the year to try and get a
reputation started! I...I'm just the messenger, please"

"I know, you said that earlier, but who did you get the weapons from?"

The man shook his head, painfully holding back sobs as he added between hiccups, "You
don't wanna mess with them, trust me. They run a strong business up in New York and they
got their fame for selling to some big people recently…the baddest of the bad that can pull
heists like these with ease. I’m talking villains like the ones your father fights, not everyday
criminals"

Damian was stunned speechless. How was this possible without his father’s knowing? Had
they been so focused on making sure Gotham was safe that they'd neglected a greater threat
outside of its borders?

Had he and the others become careless after their recent defeat of the Court of Owls?

"Then how did you contact them?" Stark asked, taking one step closer towards the shaking
man whose tears shone like diamonds under the flickering lights of the machine behind him.
The man's response was a shaking hand pointing towards one of his fallen crew members
behind Stark.

"The boss contacted them, I don't know how he did it"

"Shame" the girl said, turning back to face the last living criminal of this failed attack,
reading her gun to fire as the man’s sobs intensified to the point of cruelty Damian could’ve
excused if it was for show. The bodies behind the teenager were proof it wasn’t.

He'd somehow expected the daughter of a hero (assassin or no) to be more merciful than
him…clearly, however rare the occurrence might be, Damian had been mistaken. And though
he could’ve gone down there, snatched the sorry excuse of a man and took him somewhere
safe to be better interrogated…Damian already knew the man had nothing else of value to
say, and if he made his identity known, it might end up with a battle to the death between
enemies.

Damian couldn't compromise himself, not when he had important information to relay.

"Please!" the man sobbed, "I'm just the messenger!"

Damian willed his legs to remain immobile as the girl smiled, pushing back strands of her
long hair as she stalked closer towards the criminal begging for his life. Though the pipes and
machines made it hard to get a good look, there was no mistaking the glint in the Stark’s
eyes…a glint he’d once known too well.

"I actually believe in killing the messenger, do you know why?" she asked, shooting the
criminal a powerful glare until he replied a mousy 'no'.

The girl took a hold of his messy sandy brown hair to pull up his face from shifting away
from her own, and to Damian's surprise, she replied like it was the most innocent truth in the
world, "Killing the messenger sends a message"

Then with her back towards him, obscuring the sight of the criminal’s last moments alive, she
fired at the man's head, letting his limp body fall to the ground.

Damian sent out a thousand silent curses before swiftly rushing back upstairs, eager to get
everyone back to the manor so they could discuss all he'd seen without being overheard. Now
that the danger threatening the party was nulled…there was no reason to stay, not when there
were more pressing matters to discuss.

He tried not to look at the innocents for too long as he weaved through the edges of the room,
he refused to scorn their joy since they obviously had no clue their pathetic little lives had
been in peril minutes ago. Damian let them live in blissful ignorance, unaware of the fact a
murder had occurred right under their feet. He’d done so thousands of times as Robin, kept
the truths of battles and conflicts a secret so innocent civilians could live with a false sense of
safety…but today it felt wrong, he wanted to scream it to the room that the ‘era of peace’
they thought they lived in might very well come to an end if this problem escalated.

This was big news, perhaps more useful than whatever his other 'siblings' had turned up with
from their own mission. Thankfully, when Damian emerged back to his table unseen and
unnoticed, it only took all but two words for his entourage to head out.

"Home. Now." Damian commanded. His tone must have been enough to convince father that
something was truly amiss, because in seconds, the Wayne family had exited the building
with the ruse of Grayson injuring his feet from all the dancing he’d done with little suspicion
from anyone.

On the silent ride back home, Damian wondered if he'd ever see that murderer again.
Crossing paths with that Stark would be unpleasant not just for what he had seen her do, but a
part of him wanted to see her at least once more.
Perhaps to challenge her, or to interrogate her in one of the Batcave’s rooms devoid of light
and kindness. But maybe one day their paths would cross again, perhaps in adulthood as
CEOs of their respective companies, it would be then Damian wouldn't hesitate to put her
down if the occasion called for it.

For now, he had a lot to report.

Brooklyn POV-

"I told you I could handle it," Brooklyn boasted, leaning back into the cushions of her seat.
Now that the SHIELD jet had taken off, her posture was much more at ease, enough so that
the teen stretched out a hand for her phone from the nearby table to text Peter.

Her otets (a nickname she now referred to fondly) who was seated across from her, could do
nothing but take a few large bites off his sandwich. He knew Brook was right, that their
mission had been a success from both a SHIELD and Avengers standpoint.

Still, Brooklyn couldn't blame Tony for being moody, despite her calm and collected
demeanor since they boarded the jet she was as well, even with a victorious first SHIELD
mission under her belt.

Brook was still mulling over her words with the strange Wayne boy, her first encounter with a
family enemy. Should she have informed SHIELD of the loose League Assassin during her
debrief? Yes. Had she done so? No. Why one might ask…the answer was not as simple as
Brooklyn wished it to be. Damian Wayne made her uneasy, out of all people her age or
otherwise that she’d ever met, none had been able to not only keep up with her, but appear as
a threat in her eyes.

She’d walked away from their dance with a smirk on her face and a victory, but Brooklyn
knew better than most that a wounded beast was infinitely more dangerous than normal.
Maybe that's why despite her success in embarrassing the Wayne, she’d walked away with a
sour taste in her mouth. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t seen him or his peculiar family
when she returned from her mission…something about one of his family members injuring
himself.

Unfortunately, the one injured was not the youngest member of the family, Brook had hunted
down Harry so he could find out the specifics with his talent for gossip and he’d been the one
to confirm the fact. Something about him not being in that group photo when she'd emerged
back to the party (a photo that had almost unknowingly gotten everyone killed), had sparked
a deep annoyance in her...and she had no idea why it bothered her so much.

Just thinking back on those cold emerald eyes, flawless caramel skin, the combed back onyx
hair…damned assassin bastard, no one had ever gotten under her skin like that. Him and his
whole family were such a waste of good looks. If she ever came across another Wayne again
it would be too soon.

Brook was snapped back into reality by the distant shouts coming from behind them.
Towards the very end of the plane were the four criminals she’d apprehended, screaming
their heads off as they tried to break free of the glass cages they'd been securely placed in by
the SHIELD agents on the first level of the plane. Brooklyn had no idea why the criminals
were so fussy, she could've killed them back at the museum, but apparently sparing their lives
hadn't been enough for them to let her ponder on her thoughts in peace.

Next time, instead of reaching for Natasha’s clever stun guns, she'd go for the actual bullets.

That was a joke of course, her parents would not approve of such methods. There would be
no killing on her part, just as promised...and if she was being completely honest, holding
back from killing the criminals earlier had felt like the right approach for the situation for
more than just strategic reasons. Not having that blood on her hands, it was a relief Brook
never thought she’d appreciate.

There was also the fact that Pepper had been the happiest person on the plane since Brook
reunited with them at the gala, and had congratulated the teen senselessly once she’d given
out her report. It had felt nice to receive such warm hugs and kind words, to have earned that
praise, it was something she could definitely get used to.

"Can we just be glad no one was killed?" Happy said from his seat beside theirs, eyeing his
tablet with disdain, "I can't believe no one checked the service levels more thoroughly, or that
there are no cameras down there. How careless…"

"I'd hardly stress about it," said Brooklyn, "those criminals were harmless"

Tony pulled up a 3D scan of the weapons that had been confiscated on the table between their
little circle of seats, letting the image hover above in the air before them. With a sandwich
still in hand, Brook’s father used the other to break the model apart.

The design fit the others Brooklyn had investigated, especially the models confiscated in
New York. If what the criminal said was true, then these things were being manufactured and
distributed right under their noses by a single source.

She likely would've investigated the hologram further had it not been for the gentle ring from
her phone.

How was the gala? Harry hasn't texted back.

Brooklyn hid a small smile, texting Peter back quickly.

He's probably still dancing with all the ladies in the room. I would've sent photos but phones
weren't allowed in there though I’m sure all of you would’ve enjoyed seeing them.

"Who are you texting so fervently? Is your group of scholastic nerds having calculator
problems?" Tony asked, trying to lean forward to sneak a glance across where she sat.

Brooklyn rolled her eyes and moved her phone out of his line of sight, and from Happy’s not-
so-subtle curious gaze as well. Not that her conversation with Peter was a secret, but keeping
in touch with another individual she trusted was…odd. It felt oddly private, something she
wanted to treasure.
"Believe it or not, they’re more than just teammates, they’re my friends. I've learned to text
them for fun, it's what normal people do," she replied, turning back to her phone to see Peter
had yet to respond.

"Good, I was hoping it wasn't a boyfriend or something," Tony said, earning a playful slap
from Pepper.

Brooklyn was slightly startled by his answer, because why would Tony think she'd be
engaged in a relationship? Sure, Tanya may have been slightly correct in terms of her
peculiar feelings for Peter Parker, but that by no means meant Brook had the intention to
relent to a relationship of any sort. She was still trying to work out her family relationships
after all.

As Pepper patted her fiancee's arm, the woman mocked "Brook will have a boyfriend soon
enough, Tony. When that day happens, there better not be any of this overprotective
nonsense. Brooklyn deserves happiness in all forms, remember?"

It almost sounded as if the two had discussed this before, like the topic of Brooklyn’s
happiness had been important enough to talk about between them at some point. Brook
wasn’t sure if that was flattering or odd.

What did make a small blush bloom across Brook’s cheeks was the realization that perhaps
Pepper truly wished her happiness. Of course she did, the woman had been nothing but kind
and supportive from the start. It was one of the reasons Brook had been so bold as to address
her as one of her parents back at that gala.

It was just odd to be reminded that there were those that dared to care about Brook as much
as she cared about them. Uncharted territory and all.

To Brooklyn’s amusement, Tony didn't seem to agree with Pepper's words for once,
demonstrated by his angered, and almost feral, consumption of the poor sandwich in his
hands.

"Boyfriend! No she won't, I forbid it" he replied, leaning back against his own seat as he
pouted rather comically, "No boy in this world is good enough, she’ll stay with us—her
family— forever"

Before the teen could start an argument she hadn’t really thought out, Pepper scolded, "Tony,
she's growing up and will start a family of her own in do time, you can't stop that. But we’ll
still have plenty of time with Brook, enough to make up for lost time"

A family!? She was barely getting used to accepting this one and being worthy of it. Besides,
as far as starting a family of her own, what was she supposed to say to a guy? Hi, I know you
think I'm just Stark's daughter but you should know I'm also an assassin, want to marry me?

Brooklyn was not yet lost in the blissfulness of the evolution of her new life to fool herself
into thinking people like her got happy endings so easily. That was reserved for the heroes of
the world, the main characters in the Disney movies Scott cherished so much. Love, however
scarce a resource, was for people who had goodness in their hearts, none of the festering
darkness that clung like a parasite inside her own battered and beating organ.

For all her success today, one good deed for humanity would not erase a dripping ledger of
crimes.

"I wouldn't worry about any of that," Brook said, suddenly hit with the realization that no
matter how annoying the people she'd met could be, at the end of the day…they were normal,
and could one day have a family of their own with little trouble.

Even that irksome Wayne would have no difficulty building a future if he wished. He’d likely
trained under the League of Assassins as nothing but a mindless soldier, hadn’t been forced
into more grueling training of someone who was meant to inherit a guild as she had. That
kind of training came with more blood on her hands, more sins to atone for than a simple foot
soldier.

Perhaps in that matter, her new enemy had scored a point of success. He had the potential for
something Brooklyn couldn’t even imagine as a possibility, though she hoped the men and
women of the world were smart enough to note the young Wayne’s distasteful attitude was
not worth the money in his massive bank account.

Pushing aside her bitter thoughts, Brook was met with Pepper's concerned gaze. It intrigued
Brook, especially when the woman began fidgeting with the knitted blanket on her lap.
Unsure what had dampened their taunting jokes, Brooklyn set down her phone and set her
undivided attention on the woman across the table, trying her best to hide the concern that
was already blooming in the teen’s heart.

She decided right then and there that seeing Pepper upset, with such sadness in her eyes, was
something Brook would tear the world apart to keep from happening again

"Brooklyn...Natasha once told me something that the Red Room did to her. When you said
you won’t have a family, is it because you won’t be able to have..." Pepper's voice cut off,
choosing to look out the window instead, gaze locked on the fluffy clouds as the jet soared
through the skies.

Brook paused, wondering what Pepper could be insinuating. Any crimes committed in the
Red Room that her sestra could’ve possibly spoken of were bound to be horrific, had they
been enough to convince Pepper that Brooklyn would be unable to atone for them?

The thought was enough for Brook to feel a bitter sting in her heart. Yet perhaps for her own
sake, the teen tried to play it off with less delicate truths.

"Have what? A boyfriend? I'm barely working on allowing people into my life without
romantic feelings on the line," the girl assured, even when Stark paled at the thought.

Clearly that's not what Pepper wanted to hear, because the woman shook her head slightly,
for once avoiding eye contact with her fiancee. With her gaze out the window’s scenery,
Brooklyn caught sight of the pearl earrings the woman wore, twins to the ones that the teen
currently wore. Pepper had joked that since the pears had been fetched from the same
excavation and fashioned into jewelry by the same craftsman, they could be considered
family.

It was with a chilling thought that sent shivers down her spine that Brook wondered if the
resurfacing of the crimes of her past was enough for Pepper’s earlier words about family to
suddenly be off the table.

Her thoughts were eased, or at least partially, when Pepper corrected, "I mean the procedure"

Oh...THAT’S what she meant? No wonder she was so concerned, she supposed it was related
to the topic of Brook’s future more than the teen had ever bothered to consider. Her thoughts
of that particular procedure had always taken form as nothing more than fleeting nightmares.

Stark's eyes suddenly went incredibly wide, and he scrambled for the seat beside Brook to
caress her hair, orbs frantically looking for injuries as he whispered gently, "Pepper means the
thing about the...Nat told us the Red Room sterilizes its widows. Please tell me they didn't
hurt you like that…"

His eyes were watering, Brook realized, and Pepper was clutching her blanket harshly
enough that one of her acrylic nails had broken off across the couch. Happy, who had
seemingly never been told about such a procedure, set down his tablet slowly…and Brooklyn
could’ve sworn she saw panic in his usually guarded expressions.

It was true that the Red Room thought it practical to remove 'unnecessary' organs so its
widows could be as efficient as they could be. That way, no possible infant or weakness
induced from a moon cycle could ever get in the way of their carefully crafted obedience and
success.

Again, Brooklyn rarely thought about the graduation ceremony, but even without the mind
opening experiences of the past months spent with her friend and family, she had long ago
worked out that Ivan taking such things had been nothing but an unnecessary cruelty.

"Of course not," Brooklyn replied quickly, trying to ease those around her further as she
explained, "that procedure is only for graduates, and I was only there till I was seven. For all
my mastery of skills before my time, I wasn’t even close to my graduation ceremony…
though I suppose I am sad I never got to practice naval aviation, I was 2 years away from
starting my training on that"

Tony let out a breath of relief, pulling the teen into a hug she could now more easily relax
into as she draped the delicately woven blanket over the two of them. Brook could lay with
her head resting against his shoulder and trust that she’d be safe. She could relax knowing
that it was her father’s arms around her, that he did not seem to want to let go of the comfort
they shared.

Still, with an air of doubt, she heard her otets whisper against the crown of her head, "But
your…your mother gave birth to you. She had to be older than Natasha, right?"

She smiled against Tony’s suit jacket, breathing in the comforting scent of the machinery he
loved to tinker with. Brooklyn had come to understand that at his core, Tony Stark was not a
hero or a CEO, but someone whose passion was to build and perfect things for the betterment
of the world. It's what made the scent so comforting, to be reminded of the true man beneath
the Iron Man suit and the finery he wore tonight.

"Agent 90170 was a special case with a special mission, it's rare for Widows not to get
sterilized after the ceremony, but not impossible. Though I am surprised Natasha told you
guys about that," Brook mused, holding on to her golden Brooklyn Bridge necklace for
comfort. The price of jewelry she’d hidden under her clothes this whole time, unable to take
it off even for a night.

"I don’t think Nat had any intention of telling us, she’s always guarded secrets of her past
very strongly. We found out after a hard mission but she never did explain specifics of her
graduation, and until you came along, she never mentioned the Red Room again" Stark said,
gently laying head more comfortably against his chest so she could rest, an invitation to rest
she realized.

Even if Tony and the others were curious, they would not press for information. They’d take
what she had given them and likely worry silently about what else had occurred. Brook
understood why Natasha hadn’t explained further, but this felt like something Brook’s family
needed to know. She could trust her family with this bit of information, even if her instincts
screamed to keep quiet about private matters.

Mind made up, the teen took a deep breath while laying against her father on that couch,
clutched to the sleeves of her warm sweater nervously before admitting, "Though I never
made it that far myself, everyone knew how intense the graduation ceremony could be. It was
said to be rigorous and filled with bloodshed to ensure only the best would succeed. Only a
third of those who took the final test passed, and only after that one was sterilized was the
process complete. I never considered that in this new life, Natasha might find that
bothersome"

Her sestra was a strong woman, undoubtedly one of the strongest in the world if she’d been
an overachiever in the already selective Red Room…and for being a hero that fought dangers
none of them had been trained for. But Brooklyn wasn't sure how the inability of having a
family would affect the widow, especially when her assassin friend (Clint) was said to have a
family of his own. To be robbed of a possible future by Ivan even when he was dead, it
must’ve been a cruel reality to live with. If only Brook was better at talking about the
emotional stuff, then maybe she could've helped...

Maybe once they landed....wait...why hadn't they landed yet.

"Um, you guys know it's been more than an hour right? Why aren't we back in New York?"
Brooklyn questioned, making to stand up and get ready for a fight in case the plane was
hijacked, only to be embraced back into her otets arms.

Pepper, who now seemed more visibly relaxed, explained, "Instead of a flight from Delaware
to New York, we're headed to California for the weekend"

California? Why?
Did SHIELD already find a lead from the criminals Brook might’ve missed? She’d been
certain the filth rotting in the cell at the end of the hall had been honest when he mentioned
all criminal activities were taking place in New York…

"Calm down kiddo, we're just dropping off the criminals there…plus I have to check on a
lead Clint just reported. All of that should take a few minutes at most, of course. But don't
you want a little vacation with your parents?"

Brook froze, not by the admission that they were going to a different state for vacation
purposes which was something she’d never done or thought possible. It was what he’d said
afterwards...an echo to the words that had accidentally slipped from Brook’s mouth during
the gala.

They’d told her they loved her at the gala, Tony could’ve possibly referred to her as his
daughter as a slip of the tongue…but to accept the title of being her parents with such
assuredness that his words had almost seemed natural, that's what made Brooklyn’s breathing
stop.

Shifting her gaze towards Pepper, Brooklyn was relieved to see the woman did not seem
apprehensive of the title, in fact, she seemed nervous for entirely different reasons. Pepper
was staring at her as if her next words would hold the world intact or would crumble it.

Even Happy looked nervous.

To be fair, he teen was anxious too. This was a big step, and if she’d read the room wrong
and either of the adults did not want to be with her with that title on their backs, then
Brooklyn would completely understand…but her strong yet surprisingly fragile heart would
take a critical hit the teen had not been trained to suppress.

Reluctantly, Brook straightened against the couch, hand nervously running along the surface
of her necklace as she shifted her gaze between both the individuals she already considered
her parents and said without thinking, "You guys should call me Brook from now on.
Brooklyn is far too formal, and...and only if you want…you can both call me your daughter
too"

Unable to hold her gaze on their shocked expressions, fearing the worst, the girl went back to
picking at the strings of her sweatpants, trying to hide her panic from their eyes. She hadn’t
meant to make her sentiments known like that after all! It sounded so pathetic and desperate,
and she hadn’t meant to ask such an important question with a lack of eloquence that made
her cheeks warm.

She should've tried to make the idea seem more enticing, to try and point out some pros of
having her as a daughter that could outweigh the cons.

Brooklyn considered making up an excuse to check on the criminals, if only to get away from
the silence, when she felt Stark's arms tighten around her in a soothing embrace. Brook
finally dared to look up again, only to notice he was smiling, such an unrestrained grin paired
with glossy eyes that the teen had no idea what to say.
"We’ll gladly call you that, but only if you address us as your parents properly. It's only fair
isn’t it?" he whispered, earning a nod from Pepper as she came over to sit on Brook's other
side, hugging her tightly with tears already cascading down her green eyes.

Parents. They wanted to be her parents.

"Ok," Brook whispered back into their embrace, shyly adding, "mom and dad"

There were so many emotions barreling into her as the words left her mouth, but the primary
one was what she’d come to know as relief. She could sort through the other emotions that
sparked joy within her soul later, for now relief was enough.

The three remained snuggled together on the plush couch for the remainder of the long plane
ride to California, succumbing to their exhaustion the gala and their emotional conversations
had induced until Happy rudely woke them up hours later.

The teen woke up in good spirits, remembering she had people she could call parents, and
that she'd successfully finished her first SHIELD mission. It didn't matter what else had
occurred, she could deal with that and anything the world would throw at her now that she
had a family.

Maybe in that sense the adults’ words from long ago had been right. Family was power, a
strengthening force that made Brooklyn feel alive down to her very bones. The teen wanted
to fight for it, for the two adults currently making sure her shoelaces were tied and that
sunscreen was applied on her pale skin.

Despite her normal tendencies, she still found their fussing endearing, perhaps more so now
that she could call them her family beyond a simple last name. The title of daughter was
perhaps the best she’d ever taken under her belt…much better than assassin, agent, or orphan.
 Peculiarities of the Wayne Mansion

The Waynes POV-

Now in the relative privacy of the Wayne mansion, the five members that went to the gala
quickly made their way out of the car parked in the Bat cave and hustled towards the living
room where the rest of the family should already be waiting for them.

Two out of the three of the Wayne children were buzzing with anticipation to share all they
had learned at what was supposed to be a boring event for appearances sake. The assignment
none of them had wanted to accept days ago.

Thankfully, the rest of the family had gotten the memo to get back home early, to stop their
pursuit of the criminals that had kept them busy all night. If any of them found it irksome to
be told to retreat so suddenly, none of them showed it.

Upon arrival upstairs, the other Wayne children could be seen waiting lazily on the elegant
yet worn couches, all having returned safely from their mission which had proved rather
unfruitful in the end despite its abrupt end. Or so Bruce had been able to deduct based on
even the smallest of their expressions.

Now back in their casual clothes, the remaining four children of the Wayne household, those
less known to the public eye, looked more dejected than they had in the video call made
during the ride back from Metropolis. The healing injuries and scattered bandages were old
wounds though, even those that were currently shedding their formal attire had their own
array of recently earned damage during their battle against the Court of Owls.

A battle that they had fought to take back control of Gotham from psychopaths that had been
pulling the strings for far too long. It hadn’t been an easy confrontation, but anyone in the
room could agree that the wounds they had scattered along their bodies had been worth it.
This battle was supposed to stop years of carefully crafted villain attacks…it was supposed to
bring peace for a while.

That hard-earned peace had lasted only a few weeks this time, because whatever had
happened at the gala was big enough to assemble them all together once again.

While their parents left to go fetch the mission logs down in the bat cave, the three boys
settled down in the living room with the rest. While Dick and Tim greeted everyone, even
going as far as to hug some of their siblings for returning back safely, Damian had silently
made his way to one of the cozy loveseats in the room.

The whole ride back to the manor Damian had refused to speak, only muttering nonsense and
frowning the way Bruce did when he couldn't crack a case. Even now, the teen looked as if he
might freeze the whole room with his pent up frustration and anger. The fact that he wasn't
yelling at or insulting any of them for their ‘mission failure’ said enough.

This WAS an emergency.

The ones who hadn't attended the gala were told very little, only that a 'family' meeting
needed to be had, but they all quickly feared Damian had done something like losing his
temper at the event which had resulted in someone getting seriously injured or had sparked
yet another Wayne family controversy.

It was Stephanie, the second oldest of the girls, that decided to do something about this
familiar silence in the room. Hanging upside down on the couch, the blonde threw her black
mask on the polished floor, and despite being nothing but sturdy cloth, its sound was loud
enough to gain everyone's attention, even the brooding Damian.

"Anyone want to tell us what happened?" she asked boldly as ever, "Don't tell me the day
finally came when Damian killed a reporter. I thought we were past that?"

Damian huffed in annoyance, especially when Dick and Tim began to try and conceal their
laughter despite the situation. When those two were together in a room, it was difficult for
either one to take something seriously.

The fact that Damian hadn't bothered to reply with an insult spoke volumes about how upset
the youngest must be. Even when his dog and most trusted companion —Titus—trotted into
the room, Damian didn't pat his head affectionately as usual, instead just let the large black
dane lay at his feet.

That particular silence did not require the boldness of Stephanie to fix, clearly they needed
the one sibling that could be both comical and reassuring when he wanted to be if they hoped
to learn anything this century. It was that silence that finally prompted Dick out of his silent
concern as he stood up on the coffee table, clearing his voice as if he were about to give a
grand speech.

"My dearest brothers and sisters, it is with great humor that I have the pleasure to announce a
most historic event. Our dearest brother actually danced with someone at the gala!"

The others who hadn't been there assumed it was just a bluff at first, something to get Damian
to talk, but when the demon spawn didn't deny it, the four clueless siblings practically
dropped their jaws on the floor, even the usually stoic Cassandra couldn't hide her own shock.

It was Jason who threw his red mask at Dick, sending his brother tumbling into a nearby
couch. No one paid that much mind, not even Jason who was looking at Damian like he'd lost
his mind, as if Jay expected the sky to fall any second or the world to go up in flames.

Damian was merely frowning at the carpet on the floor, as if its clever golden swirl pattern
held the answer to the world’s secrets. Everyone knew Damian could care less about decor
unless it could be used as an intimidation factor…but this was uncharted territory, and no one
knew what to say or think.

Well…no one except the most callous of the Wayne brothers. Dick realized that his attempt to
initiate conversation could’ve perhaps been brought up differently when he noticed Jay’s
widening smirk, but in his defense that particular event had shaken the eldest Wayne to the
core and he’d been eager to share it with his siblings.
Jay and Stephanie were similar in the sense that they had no filter when it came to their
words, they said what they thought and never apologized for it. The only difference was that
Jason didn’t much care about trying to be gentle with the youngest of the lot as the others
often tried to do to ease Damian out of his lonely mind.

Thankfully, Damian kept his hardening gaze on the ground, unaware of the wicked glint
growing in Jason’s eyes that would’ve surely sparked a fight.

"Who did you dance with? Oh, please tell me whoever that was isn't dead! I know you hate it
when people touch you, but if you killed someone Bruce and I will have to fix it, and you
know how much I hate spending time with father dearest" Jason said, very much looking like
he was about to start a fight when he stood from the couch and onto the table with two guns
in hand.

The guns he’d been silently polishing earlier, a nervous habit of his.

Titus must've sensed the change in atmosphere, because he stood up on his front paws, eyeing
Jason like he was a piece of meat about to be devoured. Only Damian's calloused hand on the
dog's collar kept Titus from pouncing, a sign that he was still listening yet choosing to be
silent in the face of a challenge. That alone had the siblings stilling, perhaps not entirely in
fear, but seeing as this had never occurred before no one dared to even breathe wrong.

Damian was their little brother, no matter how much he denied it, yet they’d never witnessed
the teen like this…puzzled and unable to deal with something. Despite his age, most of the
Wayne children would never admit it out loud, but Damian was perhaps the strongest of the
lot. If there was something the demon spawn was stumped by, something that allowed them
to see what should be expertly veiled puzzlement on his part…then perhaps they should’ve
listened to Bruce and waited to discuss this until he and Selena returned.

With a sigh that sent all the siblings into a mild panic, the youngest merely loosened his black
tie and frowned up at Jason’s not-so-victorious stance atop the nearby coffee table.

"It is true that I was obligated to dance with someone, a most unpleasant experience that
needn't be mentioned again" Damian said, earning a repressed laugh from Jay, whose large
muscular build was still perched atop the delicate priceless antique table.

"But she's alive?" Cass asked, running a hand through her short onyx locks lazily as she tried
to make sense of the situation as level-headedly as always, "If she is, then what's the big
deal?"

Despite Tim's usual exhaustion that barely allowed him to stay awake for matters other than
the company and missions, he'd never looked more alive as he joined Dick beside the table to
garner everyone’s attention.

He looked much lankier standing near Dick and Jay, but there was no doubt that despite his
long hours before a computer screen, Tim was all lean muscle under his suit. Some might
describe him as the more classically beautiful of the four Wayne brothers, with Jay as the
rugged stud, Dick as the stunning god, and Damian as the flawless cold prince.
Tim was like a hidden card, seemingly weak and intellectual, when it was the hidden muscles
and scars as well as his sharp brain that earned him a place as one of the skilled ‘sidekicks’ of
Batman. He was as good at silently observing things as Cassandra was, a silent threat for
acquiring information.

Today though, Tim didn’t need to convey those skills when he had his phone resting securely
inside his pocket. Instead, he took a page out of Jayson’s book and spoke with unfiltered
enthusiasm that he’d been holding back since the gala.

"You guys don't understand, it was the new Stark heiress he danced with. They were waltzing
around in the most unbelievable way…I almost dropped my phone when I saw them"

Instantly, Stephanie, Cass, Barbara, and Jason dropped their various weapons on the couch
and rushed over to their brothers, demanding to see the video evidence of an event they
couldn't even picture in their sharp minds.

Even when Damian threatened to let Titus loose among them, the Waynes huddled close and
played the video Tim had been hoarding in secret for this precise moment. It wasn’t very long
until the Wayne siblings—save for a furious Damian of course—were filling the silence of
the pristine living room with screams and squeals far too inadequate for adults their age.

On the forbidden video before them, it looked like the most romantic and complex of dances,
two partners moving in incredible sync with each other, battling for dominance with every
step in a way only people who knew each other perfectly could.

Had they not seen the video, the siblings might not have believed it had been a reality even if
the entirety of high society boasted about it.

Even with Damian now screaming his head off and Titus loose on them, the cluster of
siblings remained huddled around the phone as they jumped from couch to couch to avoid a
nasty bite from the massive hound. To anyone watching it might look like a dangerous yet
comical sight, but to the Waynes this was simply a normal weekend.

"Oh my goodness…I never thought I'd say this about a Stark, but she's gorgeous!" Barbara
said, pushing her glasses back into place after a particularly long jump from couch to couch
when she saw Damian pull the Stark girl into an elegant dip on the screen.

Beside her, Jason magnified the image despite Tim's complaints, all in an effort to get a better
look at the rumored girl as he cackled mockingly, "Of course our little brother would have
the bad luck of dancing with a Stark, but I will admit, she can dance. The question is, why
did she agree to do so with the demon spawn? Did dad force him to hang out with kiddies his
age again?"

It was Cass that paused the video and their continuous jumping suddenly, ignoring Titus’
growls and Damian’s stomping approach as she pointed out the glints of metal from both
dancers.

"Are those blades?" she inquired. Being the shortest of the siblings, she had to stand on her
toes as she might during dance practice just to confirm her suspicions…a sight that gave all
siblings pause.

Shifting away from their huddle to see the younger Wayne's mood had only worsened, the
group couldn’t care less if he was approaching to rip their heads off. Even Tim and Jayson
who had their…differences with Damian made sure to scan the boy’s body to make sure no
injuries were visible across the expanse of his white long-sleeve, or the black vest strapped to
his stomach.

Standing before the couch his siblings were perched atop, Damian threw his discarded tie
near the fireplace rather violently, emerald eyes shining bright with the glow of the nearby
flames, though his left eye was already twitching as he recalled memories of said dance.

Damian didn’t fetch his katana, nor did he command Titus to climb the couch and attack.
Instead, he compressed his anger into a mask of cruel disappointment.

"Of course it took you insolent fools so long to notice. During his loud and boisterous
retelling of what happened tonight, Drake left out the part about that particular Stark being an
assassin and figuring out I was one as well. The true reason we are all gathered here today"
Damian said, pointing a finger Tim's way like it was a warning.

The new information astounded the siblings enough that they slowly lowered themselves to
sit on the couch, only Cass nodding in understanding.

She'd been part of the League of Assassins for the beginning of her life, back when her entire
purpose had been to protect Damian. She could see how those dance moves were assassin-
like, skilled and precise with a dash of fluidness to them that required years of training and
perfecting. Any skilled assassin could tell the difference.

As expected, Steph and Jason’s shock didn’t last too long and despite the possible promise of
murder, both rushed over to the Damian, shouting incomprehensible questions that the teen
refused to answer, crossing his arms and retreating back to his silent brooding while Dick
actually shared what their brother had found out after the dance. The bits and pieces the teen
had relented during the ride back to Gotham.

He told the other bat siblings about the Red Room assassin, and how she'd killed some of the
alien-weapon criminals they'd all been trying to hunt down for weeks. There had been a
planned assassination right under their noses all this time at the gala, and it was a Stark who
managed to stop it.

It was at the end of that tale that Bruce and Selina walked back into the room, still in their
finery from the night. Their eyes scanned the room to confirm that everyone was present and
well before ushering the dysfunctional family to the main dining room where Alfred had
already served some food for everyone.

Alfred had likely heard the commotion from the living room and decided to stay well away in
the kitchen cooking up something to quell the anger that would undoubtedly come
afterwards.
It wasn't until they were all settled around the massive table that Bruce quieted down the
array whispers from his children. From his place at the head of the table, Bruce Wayne fit the
mold of a king holding court, a large framed photo of the family crest behind him only
enhancing the image further.

Now that his jacket was gone and his sleeves were rolled up, one could see the scattered
injuries under the man’s shirt, wounds he too had earned recently in the pursuit of peace. It
didn't make his muscular build any less intimidating, nor did it lessen the intensity of those
blue orbs only his family members could witness softening from time to time.

"I trust Dick and Tim have caught you up?" he asked the table, earning nods from everyone
but Jason, but that was normal. Jay made it his personal mission to disagree with Bruce on
everything even when he agreed with the man.

With a hand against his temple, Bruce's expressions turned into something darker as he
breathed out, "Stark's daughter is a Red Room assassin, who would've known? I wonder if
Anthony would even be smart enough to figure it out or if it's a secret both are hiding from
the world"

Damian, who'd been moving his food around the plate with disgust, replied without looking
up, "He does know. I saw the Stark speaking to him via earpiece before she went out back to
kill those men"

The table frowned at that simultaneously.

How was it that the Starks were having better progress in apprehending these criminals?
Bruce thought bitterly. He was actually beyond frustrated by that fact alone, especially since
he considered himself a great detective yet he could've been killed along with his family
hours ago due to lack of information.

Even when Clark had stopped by to do his rounds as the unassuming reporter, Superman had
not reported anything amiss. Not that Clark was well informed on the recent plague of alien
weapons…that was something Bruce hadn’t had time to talk to his friend about yet.

As if sensing his boiling disappointment and panic, Selina stretched out a hand to take his
own. A silent comfort that did its work surprisingly well like the talk the two adults had down
in the Batcave earlier. It was a silent promise that everyone was safe, that they’d be more
vigilant from now on.

"What even is the Red Room anyways, you guys keep mentioning it like it's obvious? It's
making me feel like an idiot for not knowing" Stephanie said around a mouthful of green
peas.

Damian, Cass, Bruce, and Jason were the only ones who were well versed in the subject.
They were the ones at the table who had more knowledge of the workings of the assassins
world since they too had been a part of it in one way or another. Tim had a limited encounter
with the League of Assassins long ago, but unlike the others, he was clueless to its hidden
magnitude like the rest of his siblings.
"It means she's very dangerous, Steph. The Red Room trains some of the best spies and
assassins in the world, even the League of Assassins partnered with them from time to time
out of necessity," Cass said, "I don't think I ever saw any of them back in the day, but if they
are anything like Natasha Romanoff, that Stark girl would be a worthy opponent in a fight"

Damian scoffed, running a hand through his now ruffled black locks in frustration as he spat
out, "Whatever, she's nothing too special…just a murderer"

The way he said that...

Dick almost flew out of his seat when he heard Damian talk in such a manner. The teen
usually kept side-comments to himself nowadays, and even when he did speak, his tone was
uncaring and bored. But just now, there was a hint of something in his voice, something
fueled by a strong emotion that couldn’t be hidden behind staged boredom.

Nightwing had seen the way his little brother acted during that gala. All of it had been so
unlike him since they met the Stark in person. Looking so irritated, surprised, and
confused...despite its unusualness, Dick preferred to look on the bright side of things. Change
was good, change from someone who refused to shift or alter his carefully mastered habits
and thoughts was even better.

It's why, no matter how peculiar, Dick found he loved this new development.

Not entirely fueled by the mischievousness that had pushed Damian into the dance floor,
Dick subtly suggested the best idea of his life for his brother’s own good too.

Trying to sound nonchalant, the eldest Wayne spoke up and enacted his dangerous plan by
suggesting, "We can't possibly let the Starks deal with this issue better than us, it would be
best if we send someone to gather intel for us to work with AND keep an eye out on the
possibly dangerous assassin"

Catching his drift, Jason tried to conceal a maddening smirk from his place seated beside
Dick. He set down his utensils and decided to play his own part in what could possibly be the
best scheme of the decade.

"If the Stark is from the Red Room, we definitely should keep an eye on the girl in case she
isn’t willing to follow the heroic path of the Avengers’ Black Widow don’t you think? But it
would have to be someone who understands how assassins work and think" Jason added,
kicking Barbara's leg under the table so she could join in on the fun.

To be fair, Babs had actually been on board with the plan since Dick had spoken up. She and
Dick had grown up together most of their lives even before her father had died, so it wasn’t
hard to imagine what her brother’s clever thinking strayed towards most days.

“Jay is right,” Babs said, adding momentum to the conversation, “This mission may help us
in the long run with this weapons problem, so we need to play our cards right even if the
Stark is a mere teenager”
In silent agreement, all the Wayne children had devised the most brilliant plan of their lives,
all of it at Damian's expense for all the wicked words he'd always hurled their way...but
mostly it was because of the way this Stark girl clearly made him feel something other than
annoyed aloofness towards a person, a monumental event that could NOT be put to waste.

This was the next generation of Waynes vs Starks. The Wayne children would gladly see such
a historical event flourish, especially when they now knew the Stark girl could hold her own,
thus making the silly battle last longer for their own amusement.

Tim eyed the small computer screen he’d settled next to his meal, nodding in agreement as he
contributed to the cause with his usual silent yet effective approach. He’d found that
information of any kind could be used to shift things to his favor when done correctly, even
with the most stubborn of minds.

"You said Damian mentioned one of the criminals confessed that there was a large base of
operations in New York. It would be prudent for us to take care of the problem there, pick up
the slack where the Avengers will surely fail. It's the only way to stop these weapons from
flowing into Gotham more than they already have" Tim explained, motioning to a map of the
city none of them were familiar with. Uncharted territory that held all the answers they
sought.

Unaware of his sons’ not-so-evil plotting, Bruce couldn't help but agree with a nod as he
delved into his soup. It was the same meal Alfred made every time the Waynes returned from
a public event, the soup of Bruce’s youth that always helped ease his nerves with its waves of
nostalgia, not that anyone outside of this room was aware of that little weakness.

Unlike her unsuspecting husband, Selina had quickly figured out her kids were plotting
something, and since she too loved to play games…the woman thought this was exactly the
kind of harmless yet useful distraction some of them might need.

That woman adored to have a good time despite her age and social status, and what better
way to do it than to torment Damian? Maybe torment wasn’t the right word…this was more
like bestowing Damian with a motherly hard-handed lesson to aid his future. The youngest
had never responded so well to coddling anyways, so what better way to change things in a
way that Damian might accept?

It was true that Damian had never taken a liking to Selina, but she still considered him a son
of hers. She’d had a front row seat at the interaction between both young assassins back at the
gala, and something about it had reminded her of the moments between herself and Bruce
when they'd first met.

There was something about this situation that just felt...right. It was like taking a bet on
something that might have a disastrous ending, but a high reward if successful. Thankfully,
Selina had never been frightened by low odds.

As her way to add her chips to the game, the Cat Woman placed a jeweled hand atop Bruce's,
subtly nodding in agreement with the others as she pipped in, "I saw on TV that the Stark
lives in Queen's now, MTV wouldn't shut up about it! Apparently, she goes to school like a
normal kid, perhaps that would be the best way to keep an eye on her. If we risk hacking into
the Avengers compound that might make things more complicated than they are worth, she’s
the safer option to gain intel"

To the other’s surprise, the usually uninvolved Cass fanned the flames by casually stating,
"Even a youngling from the Red Room could be deadly from all I heard growing up. It
should be our utmost priority to keep an eye on that Stark anyways. With enough motivation
she could kill all the Avengers in their sleep, she could do far more damage than we might
imagine, especially with her title as heiress to the biggest and most successful company in the
world"

While Damian's attention was focused on lazily throwing a few slices of meat down to Titus,
the people at the table began motioning and nodding towards the youngest sibling past
Bruce's exhausted obliviousness.

"It would be ideal if one of us who the world doesn't strongly identify as a Wayne could go,
but you all look far too old to be in High School," Dick said with a ‘mournful’ tone, "what a
shame"

Tim's attention was on his laptop, but he still smirked so wide that it almost hid his
permanent eye bags perfectly. A smirk his siblings easily identified as a secured victory.

"In that case, it is up to Damian to complete this mission," Tim said, causing Damian to
freeze in place, turning back towards the members seated at the table with what could only be
described as one of his usual 'you're about to die' glares.

Seeming to realize he'd shown more emotion than he'd normally prefer, the teen schooled his
face into neutrality before going back to his meal of boiled vegetables and tofu.

"I don't see how that would be a practical idea. The target already knows about who I am and
my past in the League. It would make it rather difficult to fulfill the mission discreetly"
Damian replied calmly, but Cass—who was sitting next to him—could clearly see the way
his hands were fisting the poor napkin on his lap. She could tell his control was hangin by a
thin thread, a familiar sight from their shared youth.

Yes, Damian was not happy at all, so against the idea he might fight them on it till no one was
left standing. Luckily, Dick always knew what to say to rile up the trained assassin, the
youngest of them especially.

"Are you saying that you can't complete the mission, little D? Too hard an assignment to
handle all by yourself?" Dick said, followed by a roll of his eyes, "I did my first solo mission
around your age, I thought with all your alleged superiority you'd be able to do it now. But
we understand if you aren’t comfortable with it"

Steph, Barb, and Tim had to hold back their laughter, concealing their mirth by stuffing food
in their mouths. Even the ever grumpy and annoyed Jason was about one comment away
from having to excuse himself to the kitchen to let out the chuckles threatening to burst past
his lips.
Meanwhile, Damian was reeling with internal conflict. Of course he was better than all of
them, and there would be no problem completing such a stupid mission! How dare Grayson
say such things!?, the youngest thought.

But the thought of seeing the Stark girl again, of having to share a school with that annoying
red-lipped smirk...those bright brown eyes. It would become the greatest annoyance of his
existence to date if he accepted the assignment.

"I'm doing perfectly well in Gotham Academy, relocating me would be a mistake" Damian
tried to argue, attempting to appeal more to his father's logic than that of his deranged
'siblings'.

Stephanie pointed behind her where the stained-glass windows were, wiggling her manicured
finger around excitedly.

"You've said it yourself many times that you hate that place, Damian. We all went there too
and it was torture! Why not go somewhere new where people won't hound you so much for
being a Wayne?" she said, earning a simple scoff from Damian as he went back to attacking
his food instead of Grayson's face for having started this silly idea.

Tim, who'd been typing away on his computer finally smiled and the information he'd found
and announced it to the expectant table, "The Stark is currently attending Midtown High
School of Science and Technology. It's selective, but not private like Gotham Academy is. It
ranks amongst the best in the country, even better than your school, demon. Wouldn't you
appreciate the academic challenge?"

Challenge? Why would Damian need a challenge? It's not like he’d longed for one since the
fall of the Court of Owls, hell, since he’d mastered every skill he could learn at the League of
Shadows, unchallenged and undefeated. It's not as if he was bored…

Barbara nodded in agreement, turning towards her quiet father, "What do you think Bruce?
I'd say it's a solid plan. Damian goes to Midtown, gathers intel, feeds it back to us. If the girl
truly is not to be trusted, then who better to put a stop to her than another assassin, right? No
killing of course"

Bruce felt something was off, not the kind of danger he felt when he stood before an
enemy…but the kind of unease he felt around his children sometimes. A fatherly
precognition of trouble to come, that was the best way he could describe it.

His kids and wife were acting strange, it was very rare for them to all be in agreement about
something so quickly, especially if it was about a new mission.

They'd normally be clawing each other's faces off just to get the chance to go out into the
field. But suggesting Damian takes this on by himself...it was true that Damian wasn't the
overly aggressive little boy from six years ago, but was he ready for a solo mission of his
own?

Stark had information, stuff Bruce needed to get rid of this issue at hand before criminals
went around evaporating people by the thousands with weapons this world should not have.
But no one had ever riled up Damian the way that girl did tonight, no teen aside from his own
children had ever dared talk back to Bruce as well. Sending his son to evaluate the situation
in New York was a great move from a Batman perspective, but what about as a father?

Shooting a subtle look towards Selina, he could already tell she was fully on board, even
praising the children for working up a wonderful plan. However playful and mischievous
Selina could be, she cared deeply for the kids above all else. If she considered Damian to be
ready for such a responsibility despite their conflict, then perhaps Bruce should too.

Maybe it would be good for Damian to get away from Gotham, spend a little less time being
Robin and more time being a teenager. Though the young boy often acted twice his own age,
the issues with his behavior hadn't improved since his time in Gotham Academy, where
Bruce knew kids feared his son for his last name.

It was a place where Damian was often praised for the shallow things in life, with people that
treated him as someone above them…which was not much different from Damian’s time in
the League of Assassins now that Bruce thought about it.

Public school had always been such a freeing yet unattainable idea to Bruce, who'd gone to
private schools all his life. Those types of schools were said to be more easygoing in terms of
status importance, more fun without the strict regimen of carefully crafted ambience meant to
produce perfect children for high society.

Easygoing and fun were not words one could use to describe Damian, but perhaps it's what
he needed, a slice of a different ambiance.

If Anthony Stark had dared to put his daughter in that school when he could afford to send
her to the most expensive ones in the world, there had to be a reason...

Not just for the sake of the mission, but also as a small parental effort to try and better
Damian's stagnant life of becoming just like Bruce, the man nodded in agreement.

This caused all but Damian to cheer in excitement, going as far as to stand and clap in
celebration as if the Gotham Rogues won the Super Bowl.

Damian couldn't quite believe his eyes as he sat there amidst the celebratory ambiance. He’d
originally imagined his intel would entice his family to look for reasons to arrest the Stark so
she wouldn’t be a problem in the future. He’d figured they’d make a few trips to New York to
gather intel, but never that he’d be stationed there, condoned to spy on the one girl he’d never
wanted to see again…at least not like that or so soon.

Still, Damian kept his composure, refusing to succumb to childish whims that would not
grant him any leeway for this decision.

"Father, that would be unwise. What am I supposed to do, drive myself to Queens every
morning? That's a thirty minute drive" the teen complained as Bruce began typing away on
his phone, ignoring his son completely.
"Like that's a big obstacle! Alfred could drive you with no problem and you know it" Jason
said as he wiped sauce on his leather jacket, a display that almost made Damian reel in
disgust.

Not that he cared much for Todd’s opinions.The youngest Wayne had made up his mind to
never see that Stark girl ever again, and he'd been adamant to stick to that vow.

After all, what worse fate could he suffer than this?

Placing both hands atop the table’s surface, Damian pressed, "What will the public say about
me switching schools so late into the school year? That won't do, especially since the Stark
girl is there too. It would attract far too much attention, which in case you imbeciles forgot, is
exactly what we spend our civilian lives avoiding!"

Dick shrugged off the comment like it was a silly idea, "You're looking at this from too much
of a vigilante perspective, little D. This isn’t Robin going to Queens, but Damian Wayne.
Think of this as a business move, we could say that you're interning at the Wayne Enterprises
building in New York as a way to get you better prepared to handle the company in the
future. You'd have to go move to a school close to it out of convenience because of that"

Barbara, who was lazily working little knots out of her red hair like a clever cat simply
grooming itself, added, "We could say you've recently shown you were capable to start the
journey towards your future as CEO, so Bruce not only let you dip your feet in the water, but
took the chance to send you to one of the best schools in the country! It's a perfect cover! I
can't believe I'm saying this…but your a genius Dick"

The eldest smirked, leaning back on his chair as he brought up his wine goblet in a mocking
toast of celebration, "Of course I am, the plan is perfect!"

"What about Mr. Stark, you think he won't see through this and find it unsavory? He might
very well pull his daughter out of school just so she's not near one of us Waynes?" Damian
argued, placating the now alert Titus, who always seemed to sense when his owner was being
attacked verbally.

Bruce finally shook his head, setting down his phone to cut through all the other voices in the
room, "Anthony won't do such a thing. He's far too proud for that, and I sense his daughter is
equally as stubborn"

Damian couldn't help but gape at the words, ignoring the other's pathetic attempts at placated
agreement. The teen stood up from his chair quicker than a lightning bolt, knocking it down
just as his hands slammed on the table, silencing the giggles and whispers from his siblings.

"That's precisely why I shouldn't go! That stubborn girl WILL get on my nerves until there is
nothing left of her but limbs scattered around the city!" he yelled.

Bruce did not react to the outburst, and when the doorbell from the front door rang across the
room, Batman merely settled back against his chair confidently even though no one had been
expecting guests at this late hour.
Instead of meeting cold fury in a similar manner, Bruce’s voice was calm yet with an edge of
command Damian always needed as he explained, "I'm well aware you might find the Stark
difficult, but you must remember what I've taught you, Damian. You can't let vengeance
guide your actions, we don't kill. If you want to be worthy of the title of Robin, you must
conceal your anger for the sake of the mission because this isn’t about you or me, it's about
the safety of others"

"Right. Justice, not vengeance" Damian whispered to himself bitterly, recalling the words
engraved into his soul as if they’d been tattoed there since the age of ten. More than that, he
couldn't let father think him unworthy of a title he's fought and bled for over and over again
for the past six years.

Thus, Damian tried to convince himself that perhaps this situation could be of some benefit
after all. This was the first solo mission he'd been granted, and Damian sure as hell wasn't
about to fail due to a mere Red Room assassin.

Resigned to his fate, the boy sat down just as Alfred came into the room completely unaware
of the specifics that had just been discussed and debated. From all the old man knew, the lot
of them could’ve been arguing about anything from salad dressings to the welfare of the
universe.

"You have a guest Mr. Wayne," Alfred announced by the large double doors with hands
neatly behind his back, earning a nod from Bruce to let the person in.

Immediately, everyone at the table did their best to conceal any weapons they may have set
atop the table, not just because of their unknown guest and the need for secrecy on their
identities…but because Alfred had told them time and time again to get out of the habit that
could scratch the table. Despite the old man’s age, he was quite possibly just as deadly as
them when he wanted to be, and that was with words alone.

It wasn't often that they had guests of any sort unless it was members from the Justice
League, which was the children’s guess when they noticed Bruce was as ‘relaxed’ as he’d
been seconds ago.

"I know this mission will require immense effort, but I wouldn't be sending you if I didn’t
think it was the right path," Bruce assured, only receiving a huff of annoyance from the
youngest who'd already abandoned his meal in favor of scowling at the world.

Waiting for their guest to make it through the long winding walls of the manor, some of the
Wayne children thought it fitting to use that time for teasing that would come with no
immediate consequence with an outsider on their way.

That someone, of course, being Jason the gold medalist problem child.

"I still think Damian is going to kill the Stark at some point, or perhaps she will. Shouldn't
we…take a countermeasure for that?" Jason asked innocently, always the opposition of
anything Bruce suggested.
Damian didn't voice it, but he was slightly baffled that Todd would suggest he could lose a
battle against that girl. He was raised to be the ultimate soldier, a master assassin that would
rise above any that dared hold the title. Maybe he didn’t voice said annoyance because…well
because even he was having doubts as to how long that fight would rage for, Damian would
surely still win in the end.

Bruce nodded regardless, as if he’d been expecting that point to be brought up when he
shifted his attention back to the doors Alfred had disappeared though, "I've taken care of that"

Steps resonated outside the door, and when they opened, everyone at the table stared in
anticipation to behold what kind of backup Bruce had deemed necessary and helpful.

A boy in loose jeans and a plain blue shirt walked into the familiar space with a bright smile
already in place, black hair in a messy blown out look, and dirt spots all over his clothes. The
teen's bright blue eyes scanned the table until he found his best friend sitting with arms
crossed, noting his heart rate was elevated too.

Without a second thought Jon Kent flew over to the other teen, greeting the rest of the table
with little interest as he passed by.

"Hey, what's wrong here?" Jon asked, "Why are you so upset?"

Damian only huffed like an angry bull, even when Jon shoved a half eaten Snickers bar into
his mouth, looking across the individuals at table with a crooked smile full of adorable
dimples. Some of the Wayne children like Barbara and Tim had already figured out what
Bruce had meant earlier…others like a distracted Steph and Jason just assumed the entrance
of the other teen had been a simple coincidence.

"Why are you here, Jon?" Damian asked, looking back at the door to see Pennyworth wasn’t
guiding anyone else inside the family dining room.

"You won’t believe it! Bruce just spoke to my dad about a new mission for us! I can totally
fly us to Queen's and back every day after class if need be, and Dad thinks it's a good idea to
test out my powers on a mission-like scenario. He said it was fine if I switched out of
Gotham Academy with you!" Jon said, prompting Damian to finally look towards his father
in astonishment.

"Kansas Jr is going too?" Jason asked, eyeing Superman’s son with reluctance. Sure, Jon was
powerful and more mentally stable than Damian, but...ok maybe that was a good idea. As far
as inconspicuous backup went, another teenager was a good choice, and having another kid
enroll at school at the same time would make Damian’s arrival less ‘sudden’.

"I forbid it," Damian declared without question, suddenly reluctant at having his only 'friend'
join a mission that was supposed to be his. Then again, Jon was probably the only one with
the skills that could keep Damian from killing the young Stark before the mission was
finished.

Even he could see why father had made such a decision. That didn’t mean Damian wouldn't
try to plead his case with whatever words were necessary.
“You must be truly desperate father, calling in Kent as backup. As someone who has always
refused help from even the Justice League when it comes to your precious Gotham, this is
very uncharacteristic of you”

Father kept his gaze stoic, back straight as he lounged on that chair at the head of the table
like a king, someone that Damian could admit had every right to that kind of title most days
with the way he carried himself and the respect he’d earned. It wasn't difficult imagining a
gleaming crown atop the knight of darkness.

Father was someone that knew when to charm the masses and when to instill fear into their
hearts. Tonight, it would seem that such a commanding aura would be directed at Damian
until one of them caved. It was almost like no one else was in the room as his father stated,
“This isn't a Gotham matter, but an enemy that could endanger the world. Besides, Jon isn’t
backup, you’re both working together”

“I will not be handled like a child that can’t even be trusted with a mission by himself—”

The teen was silenced with a simple raise of his father’s hand.

"That matter is already settled Damian," Bruce reprimanded calmly, "you should focus on
getting ready instead of complaining. Tim will work on enrolling you both to the school so
you can start on Monday with no trouble"

Said computer wiz was already typing away, mumbling something about needing some coffee
as he retired from the table towards his room where he could work alone, also where Damian
wouldn't halt his progress.

As the tired man exited the room, Bruce stood as well and declared, "I have to make some
phone calls to the Wayne Enterprises building in New York to set up Damian's future
internship. Make sure to go to bed early after patrols…Steph, Dick, that responsibility falls
on you today, call if anything is amiss"

Selina stood up as well, bidding good night to her children and Alfred as she joined Bruce
down to the bat cave where he’d likely go overthink every bit of what had occurred tonight
and what had to be done. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of a fuming Damian next to
the overly excited Jon, wondering just what those two would get to experience once the
weekend was over.

The two responsible for the night’s patrols left to go get ready as well, taking small
increments of food along with them as well as shooting a few smirks Damian's way. After
such a monumental success, the two 'children' would gladly go on patrol despite their own
exhaustion! They were buzzing with energy and success after all.

After embracing a puzzled Alfred at the door, Steph said something about going to Tim’s
room to bid him goodnight before bolting out into the hall where her screams of joy echoed
back to those at the table.

Dick was just as excited, even more so to tell his wife what he'd done. Sure he might get
scolded for meddling in his brother’s life, but ultimately Starfire would see how worth it this
clever little plan was!

Only Cass, Barbara, Jason, and the two teens remained sitting in silence until Jon made
himself at home on an empty chair, pulling food from the various platters on the table onto
one of his own. A common sight after all these years.

"You should be happy Damian since this is what you've been waiting for, a chance to prove
yourself to Bruce," Barbara commented, swirling her glass of wine, which was as vibrant a
red as her hair.

For all his internal hatred, the youngest Wayne knew she wasn't wrong. All Damian had
wanted since his mother had dropped him off at the Wayne Manor was to prove himself to his
father. He'd trained senselessly for years just for the chance to meet him, and even though
things hadn't exactly gone smoothly since their first meeting, Damian was still attempting to
prove he was the best…that he was a worthy heir.

This mission, however foolish, would not hinder that.

Thus, Damian picked up servings of Shawarma and Za'atar sandwiches, hoping his favorite
foods could numb the discontent in his mind. Perhaps he'd just go over to his room to throw
away all the homework assignments he'd done yesterday, they'd be useless from now on after
all.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as Damian's chair scraped against the floor, Titus became alert once
again and stood dutifully by his master's side. Jon had also picked up his food servings, as
always, intent on joining Damian.

"I'll bring you maps and logistics of your new school by morning," Cass said, keeping her
gaze on the retreating boy, "I'll also add data on Queen's so you're better prepared to scout the
city"

Jon turned back with a quizzical brow, "Is that really necessary? I'm sure we'll figure things
out at school as we go"

Barbara rolled her eyes.

"Those two don't leave things to good faith" she said, motioning to Cass and Damian with a
grilled sausage, They could be going to a fast food restaurant and feel the need to work out
line-of-sight and field-of-fire calculations, mark all exits and entries…it's who they are”

The Wayne teen huffed in annoyance from his place before the door, ignoring Pennyworth's
concern as he stated coldly, "Faith is belief based on the absence of data, it invites disaster"

Jon quickly rushed to his friend's side, having to levitate off the ground when Titus had
decided the half-kryptonian had gotten too close to his master and elected to growl and bite.

Up in the air, the teen tried to balance his food as best as possible while he replied, "I think
this will be fun! New school, new environment, new classmates! Plus I've seen the new Stark
girl on the news and she's really pretty. I'm already friends with a trained assassin, I'd love to
have another!"

So Bruce had mentioned the specifics of their target already…

Damian scoffed, ignoring the gazes of his family and singular friend as he made way out into
the hall, scolding over his shoulder "We're not going to make friends with that brat, Jon. We
are going to Queens to gain intel on a dangerous alien-weapon market and obtain knowledge
of their future movements. Everything else is inconsequential and she…our enemy"

Without looking back, Damian retreated into the darkness of the empty hall, deciding he
would enjoy his weekend as much as possible before it was inevitably ruined by his new
course in life.

He'd half-hoped Bruce had been jesting about the Wayne internship. The teen knew it was his
birthright to one day gain the company, just as the inheritance of the League of Assassins
remained with him. Damian had been waiting for a chance to rob Drake of the responsibility
that was his own by blood, and as long as the boring desk work didn't deter him from being
Robin, he'd just have to live with that for now.

It would appear that he’d be tested not just as Robin, but as Damian Wayne as well.

As he walked past the floor to ceiling windows that let in the bright light of the moon,
Damian ignored the steps from the hound beside him or the fluttering of fabric from the teen
flying not too far behind. His focus was entirely on the mission that would dictate his success
as Robin, no matter what else he’d faced before that.

This was his mission, and no matter what he'd succeed…even if he had to torture the
information out of that girl.
 San Francisco and The Cave
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

"Fine, you both win! First time trying ice cream is a success," Brook relented with a smile,
clutching her silver spoon as both parents began celebrating their victory across the table with
a quick series of high fives.

In the calm space of their hotel room—which looked an awful lot like a luxury apartment—
the three Starks each had a tub of ice cream they'd bought on their way to the establishment
from a 7-Eleven. With the elegance surrounding them, having the three of them gathered
around the lavish sitting area eating such a mundane and cheap meal probably looked quite
childish.

After a long flight and a few hours spent dropping off and interrogating the criminals in a
state prison, Tony wanted some time to relax. Since the Avengers were still out on missions
of their own, investigating the various leads, the Starks could technically stay in San
Francisco for the weekend undisturbed.

Pepper had already planned for them to go to the Stark Industries building nearby so Brook
could become acquainted with it, and her dad had insisted they do something that was
actually fun after that. Apparently, his idea of fun was to take one of the classic cable cars to
Madame Tussauds wax museum so Brooklyn behold the wax versions of her new family in a
new hero exhibit that had come out a few weeks ago.

For today, the three of them had decided to stay put in the lavish hotel, trying out some new
Ben & Jerry's Avenger themed flavors. The bored cashier had certainly had a peculiar day
when he saw a limousine pull up to the quaint establishment, even more so when THE Tony
Stark and Brooklyn entered the store to buy a bunch of Avengers-themed ice cream as if one
of them wasn’t actually a part of the legendary team of heroes.

The stop had been worth it, for the first time in her life Brooklyn could declare that ice cream
was delicious.

"You know, I gave up dairy last year," her dad mentioned, taking another spoonful of his own
ice cream, "but this is worth every bite"

Pepper hit his arm playfully, "Why did you give up dairy anyways? Another one of your
crazy diet ideas?"

Brooklyn actually smirked, pointing her spoon at the man, "The great Iron Man diets? I had
no clue you’d need to go to such extremes. Is it Grandpa Steve’s cooking that stacked up a
few pounds?"
Pointing at his image in the tub of Stark Raving Hazelnuts in her hands, her dad replied
confidently, "How do you two think I manage to look this good? I'll have you both know
removing dairy from your diet gets rid of excess saturated fats"

The young Stark rolled her eyes and just went back to her hazelnut ice cream, wondering why
this brand would dare to feed her father's ego like this. Naming a flavor after him…as if her
otets didn’t have a big enough ego.

As the three of them sprawled on the large couch clad in pajamas, they were calmly watching
a movie cuddled close to one another. A few weeks ago, the idea of 'cuddling' with any
would've seemed nothing short of impossible, but at the moment, it was rather comforting.

Pepper had picked a romantic movie, one which Brook couldn't stop questioning and trying
to make sense of in her mind. Though she was literally sitting next to the embodiment of true
love, it was still hard to imagine people could be so happy together.

People like Peter COULD have such sweet relationships, no doubt something he and MJ
could attain with little trouble. They could hold hands, share the events of their day, and bond
over mundane things like the main characters of the movie. What could Brooklyn provide in
a relationship, though? Even if she liked Peter, which she absolutely did not, would such a
perfect vision of love as displayed on the film even be possible? The young Stark would not
be able to go anywhere with Peter without people gawking, cameras following, news judging
and analyzing. Just on their walks home, the assassin often saw people take photos of the
two, the main reason why her best friend had to keep his hood up and take up the extra pair
of sunglasses Happy had purchased for her.

Neither people nor the media seemed to think much of it now, something about them being
together didn't seem possible to them since Peter was just a normal boy, but if she were to
hold hands with Peter...that would end up like when Brooklyn was thrown into the public
eye. Peter would not deserve the awful words MTV and celebrity shows alike often resorted
to. He should not have to deal with such attention he was not used to, not when he and Aunt
May had been a saving grace to the young assassin.

It was with a few more mouthfuls of ice cream that Brook realized she also wouldn't be able
to talk to her best friend about her day with such casualness as the lovers on screen. Sure,
they bonded over school and the Decathlon, but her SHIELD endeavors were something
completely different that someone like him may never grow to understand.

Would Peter think differently of her knowing she was training to become an agent? Peter
would no doubt run for the hills if he even found out Brook was an assassin, rightfully so of
course.

It must've been nice for Pepper and Tony, who knew absolutely everything about the other.
Even now, the way they laughed in unison at the jokes of the movie, finished each other's
sentences, even shared their ice cream without a need for words…it was as if they were made
for each other, drawn close by a force Brooklyn could not see.

Ugh...why was she even pondering all of this?

Brooklyn was an assassin, a spy that could take down almost anyone she set her mind to.
Only a fool would be focusing on things like love with so much on the line out there in the
world. There were things she could focus on that she did understand, matters she was an
expert in and required no useless sentimentality.

Briefly eyeing the reports from the prison scattered on a nearby coffee table, Brook tried to
imagine just how many more individuals were involved in this alien-weapon business. If the
rumor of a base in New York was true, there had to be someone running it.

It would take too long to investigate each gang in the city in theory, though she'd barely
managed to get information on all the prominent Queens gangs these past few days. Brook
hadn't even had the time to actually go infiltrate them or at least get more information of her
own with school, the decathlon, and training taking up too much of her time.

But after what happened at the gala, Brook was determined to make her investigations more
of a priority.

At least Fury had given her the secret green light to investigate those gangs in the future, all
thanks to her success at the gala yesterday. A simple message on her SHIELD pager last night
answering a request from long ago. The last thing the Stark wanted were weapons going off
in Queens where her friends lived, and maybe once Brook got home she'd properly get started
on that.

Not that her dad knew about said secret mission, the same way he did not know about the
assassin Brooklyn had killed days ago in that desolate alley...or the specifics of her days in
the Red Room.

Maybe it was the fact that today had been a great day, that both her parents now
acknowledged Brook as their own that such secrets weighed so heavily on her, left a bitter
taste in her mouth that even the sweetness of the ice cream could not wash away.

She was keeping too many awful secrets from them, a family with the potential to have the
happy life movies often bragged about, even if the Starks were anything but conventional and
predictable.

It could very well not be any of those things that made Brook suddenly so concerned with her
mountain of secrets. Perhaps it was just the fact that her life was going well, the foreign
feeling probably made her uncomfortable. Like a dream she'd soon wake up from.

The young Stark set down her jug of ice cream, staring at the Iron Man figure on the cover
with a frown.

Her dad was a hero, a good man that deserved to know what he was getting into…

For the first time in her life, Brook actually felt her hands begin to sweat, enough so that she
had to wipe them on the silk of her blue pjs. Her heart began to pound so loud the teen was
most certain everyone could hear it, but both adults were still laughing at the jokes of the
movie playing before them.
The urge to leave the topic alone for the day was strong, wanting to indulge this wonderful
day for a bit longer, but if she wasn’t honest then would she be worthy of it?

"Dad," Brooklyn whispered uncertainty, just loud enough that the man beside her seemed to
hear. When his brown eyes met her own, the girl noticed a worry beginning to form at
whatever expression he found on her face.

"Did you get a brain freeze from eating it so quickly, kid? I warned you that's what happens
with ice cream" Tony asked, laughing a little as he reached a hand towards the table for some
of the tea Pepper had ordered, and handed it over.

"No, that's not it," Brook said, pushing the gentle tea cup aside.

"Do you not like the movie?" Pepper asked with a concerned gaze, "We can watch something
more interesting if you want. Nat doesn't really like chick flicks either"

Pushing off the couch, Brook made to stand by the window outlooking the quiet city below,
choosing to keep her gaze on the distant Golden Gate bridge rather than her new family as
she admitted, "I'm really happy, completely at ease with you two"

Silence.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Tony asked slowly as if to not startle her, but Brook still refused to
turn fearing what his reaction would be once she spoke of the deepest secrets buried in her
mind.

"You don't understand," Brook sighed as she leaned on the glass, "I am so happy with you
two, beyond ecstatic to have a family at last. But even though I've told you a few things about
my past, I haven't mentioned everything, and when you hear it...you won't want me anymore
and days like these will just end up hurting in the end"

It would hurt, Brooklyn realized, the day she'd be forced to leave would likely be the greatest
pain she'd yet to feel. Black Widows were never meant to lean on others, they were built for a
solitary life with no families, that instinct always remained engraved into their mind. Yet
she’d toyed the line all these months, and that gala yesterday Brooklyn had decided that such
pain would be worth it, yet she wasn’t prepared for it now.

In that instant, imagining a life without Tony, Pepper, her friends, the Avengers...even that
pesky Spider-man...Brooklyn knew that life would feel dull and incomplete. But she
supposed that was the price to pay for her past crimes, because no matter how much she was
training to do some good, her skeletons would still trail behind her like heavy chains around
her feet.

The teen was almost startled into a fighting stance when she felt Pepper's gentle hand on her
shoulder. It was a comforting touch, one that only made Brook look towards the other side of
the room as she practically spit out the words that would get rid of that comfort forever.

With a hand on her golden necklace, Brook shouted, "I killed people! You both have no idea
how many lives I've taken from this world. Young, old, ever since I was old enough to hold
up a simple knife, my hands have been gushing with blood. Ask Fury about my first day of
training in SHIELD, he'll explain just how much of a monster I am"

The room was silent, only adding to that sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Anywhere from four-hundred to over a thousand" Brook said, trying to keep the unexpected
trembles off her voice, "that's how many lives I've taken in and out of the Red Room, that's
not even counting the aliens from New York. I've been trying to keep track of the number
since I was young, but the days bled into years and I’m still not sure how many fell by my
hand…I'm pretty sure that makes me some sort of villain or mass murderer, right?"

The hand around Brook's shoulder tightened, but not into the painful hold she'd expected, not
when the teen was pulled into Pepper's embrace. Though the ex-assassin had made quite the
progress when hugs were concerned, it was as if all of that had gone out the window when
her body froze up.

It was as if the shame of Brooklyn's past actions actually rendered the girl motionless.

Brook stood there, waiting for the shouting to start, the disgust of their voices to fill her
ears…yet nothing but silence came. She refused to look at either adult, instead hiding her
face on the folds of Pepper's gray t-shirt until her parents’ anger finally surfaced.

Actually, it wasn't until Tony unexpectedly spoke up that Brook eased into the embrace,
especially when she started…sweating from her eyes at the words that picked up the
crumpled pieces of her heart that had begun to shatter with each second of silence.

"You really think that stuff is gonna make us not love you, kid?" he'd said, "I know my being
an Avenger makes it seem like I'm clean, but you'd be surprised by the amount of...mistakes
I've made. I sold weapons for years to the wrong people that ended up costing innocent lives,
even as a hero I've killed many innocents in the name of the greater good"

A hand was placed on Brook's shaking shoulder, one no doubt belonging to her otets.

"Don't let that get you down, ok? If anything, I think it's a Stark family trait to carry that kind
of guilt around. Even the ever righteous Howard Stark—your grandfather—did some bad
things in his time. He helped found SHIELD, sure, but my old man helped create weapons
during the second world war that killed thousands, you know?"

Clutching Pepper's back with blurry vision, the girl replied with a shaking voice, "You're
really not disgusted by me? You don't want me to leave?"

Pepper clutched the girl tighter, "Of course not. The fact that you feel this remorse, that you
carried that number around for so many years with enough understanding that you felt the
need to hide it from us...it shows that there is compassion in you. Only those who feel no
regret are truly bad people"

Tony hummed in agreement, "Guilt sucks, but I think it's what makes us human. Even though
I've been very hesitant to let you become an Avenger, not out of mistrust in you but in fear
that you'd get hurt, I think even you must realize you're working towards a good path"
A good path. One towards a redemption Brook wanted desperately now not just because Fury
held secrets against her.

Maybe both her bloodlines had many sins trailing behind them, but Tony believed this path
she now treaded carefully could help amend that, and it was with an unventured sense of
hope that Brook wished it would.

Brooklyn may have her parent’s forgiveness, but she still needed to work to forgive herself.

The girl relaxed at last, placed a hand atop Stark's while clutching Pepper closer.

"I promise I won't do awful things like that again. I'm trying to work past it, I really am, I just
don't want you guys to hate me or suddenly decide I'm not worth it if you find out things
about me down the line"

Brook wasn't used to being so open about her emotions, but that swirling worry in her mind
was something her family needed to hear. There was a time when Ivan was her greatest fear,
one now replaced by the thought of losing her family, the two people she held onto right now.

"Of course you are worth it," Tony whispered, "remember what Pep said about family being
power? We stick together from now on, whatever it takes"

Pepper gently pulled back only to place a reassuring kiss on Brook's brow, "Whatever it
takes"

In the embrace of both her parents, the girl whispered the same phrase, a promise to make
them proud, to never part from them.

Though Brook did not attest to the recent kill she'd made, or even gone into detail of her past
murders that had gotten her blackmailed by Fury, that night in San Francisco, it did not seem
to matter to any of them. When they smiled at her…Brooklyn thought there was nothing in
this world she wouldn’t do to see those smiles directed at her again.

The three eventually pulled apart when Pepper suggested they go to bed. It was on her way
back from getting a glass of water from the kitchen that Brook had heard the adults
whispering in their own room. Suddenly her bare feet grew silent.

Though she was a trained spy, Brook’s intention hadn’t been to snoop on them. But she had
to pass their room to get to hers and just so happened to do so a little slowly. It was the fear
that their words from earlier were false, that perhaps they were planning to get rid of her that
had driven Brooklyn into listening against the wall.

"Do you think I did good?" Tony asked from the other side of the door, "I don't think I'm very
good at comforting teenagers, but Brook seems more at ease. Obviously I want to take full
credit for that"

Pepper's muddled laugh resonated like a sweet melody.

"You did well, Tony" Brook's mom said, "I'm sure she appreciated your efforts"
Brook did, more than they could ever imagine. Though she still had to earn the silent pardon
from Fury on her criminal actions, maybe even the forgiveness of the world, the fact that her
parents had been so understanding eased that heavy weight on Brooklyn's shoulders that she'd
been carrying since the Red Room.

She was probably still gonna have to deal with a long eternity in the lowest circle of hell
though. As of now at least, that would be the only acceptable sentence.

It would be a work in progress to make up for the horrors, but at least she had some guidance
from SHIELD, a future to do good with the help of Stark Industries and as an Avenger, not to
mention the support of her family to catch her if she needed it.

Even though it was wrong to spy, Brook leaned her head closer to the door of the hotel
bedroom to hear what else was being said about her.

"The parenting books said I need to give her space to sort out her problems if she's upset, but
that I should also be there for her. I'm not sure what that means yet, but I think I did it right.
Do you think I should buy her a reward, like a car or something?"

Brooklyn had to stifle a small laugh, because the fact that Tony was trying so hard to be a
good parent was endearing, but it was still funny to hear he was relying on books to guide
him. Suddenly that voice in her head that had been whispering all those doubts—a voice that
sounded an awful lot like Ivan—went silent. That was all the reassurance she needed.

With a rare skip in her step, Brook made her way to the other bedroom in the suite. Though
this room didn't have nearly as much security as her loft, the girl was eased knowing Happy
was downstairs and her father right next door.

Before she could chicken out, Brook sent quick texts to the rest of the Avengers (excluding
Spider-man because she still hated him just a bit) to wish them a good night. The spider hero
only got a warning text not to get killed in patrols.

Tony had texted the group chat before he retired to his room, just to show Brook that the rest
of the team wouldn't hold her past against her either when she'd been nervously mumbling
about it. He had texted the Avengers a shortened explanation of what Brook had revealed,
and in minutes, most had answered her back similar words to those of her otets.

Now in the comfort of her bed, Brook re-read those uplifting messages from the team, from
Grandpa Steve who was the first to answer with a long paragraph, to Scott's hilariously
simple message of 'Don't worry, everyone loves you here'

Such simple words in those texts, but they all helped ease Brooklyn's mind into a peaceful
sleep. In the morning, the group of four set out to do all that they had planned the night
before. Now with renowned spirits, Brooklyn took great joy in going to the Stark Industries
building, taking notes and making sure she understood what would be required for her to do
in the future.

The staff had been very kind to her, and greeted both Tony and Pepper as their CEOs with
excited vigor. Even with all the buzz going around thanks to preparations for the upcoming
Stark Expo, the family was shown around with great care.

It was there that Brook was once again reminded of the good the company did, and she
mentally swore to continue that legacy not just to attain for her sins, but because now she
truly cared about upholding the positive view of the family name.

The wax museum was a whole other matter entirely.

Brooklyn stood before perfect replicas of her family, gawking at their impeccable design with
great interest. It wasn't long before Tony suggested taking photos with the wax figures to
send to the rest of the Avengers.

Brook humored the childish act by agreeing. In no time, all the Avengers (but Scott), had sent
back amused texts, even when they were busy with their own missions. Spider-man had only
sent back a series of sad emojis when Brook sent him a photo of herself ‘choking’ his wax
figure to death.

That one had been her favorite, and the one she chose as her phone's background, much to the
amusement of her mom.

The young Stark even got a photo with her parents and their wax figures, one she would print
out for sure, placing it next to the other stamps of time with her friends that decorated her
fireplace mantle once Brook made it home.

By the time the Stark Jet was set to arrive, the family got into a limousine and began heading
to the airport after a quick lunch down at the pier. Brooklyn was exhausted by that point,
belly full and a smile still plastered on her face. She’d decided then and there that vacations
were wonderful, and was already excited for the other new places she’d get to explore with
her parents.

Tony and Pepper had fallen asleep minutes ago, claiming the walk down from the docks was
far too exhausting for people their age. Brooklyn decided to remain awake to make annoying
faces at Happy, who finally put up the dividing screen from his place behind the wheel once
he'd had enough of her games.

With her original amusement gone, Brook decided to text her friends, laughing at the photos
and videos they sent her of their time at the coffee shop they'd fist gone to. The teen wished
she could've joined them on the weekend outing, but she wouldn't trade this getaway for the
world. It had brought her closer to her family, and shown her the beauty of California for the
first time.

Brooklyn learned that she actually liked traveling, especially when it wasn't because she was
running away from something. Just being with family was nice.

Maybe one day Brooklyn would return to the city to see the Golden Gate bridge up close, she
thought as she looked out the window. Perhaps next time they'd do just as Tony suggested
earlier and head over to his purchased home in the heart of the city, stay there for a few days.
As they passed many houses down the road, Brooklyn wondered if the Stark residence in the
city was as unique as those around the area. The calm ambiance outside almost settled Brook
into a peaceful sleepy state until two cars sped past the limousine.

The assassin stared at their retreating forms in confusion, which was only magnified when a
truck passed right by her window while her parents slept unaware.

The truck itself was nothing special, what was startling was the giant man using it like a
scooter to catch up to the speeding cars. Though she'd never seen that suit in person, Brook
had seen it on TV a few times to know who that belonged to.

"No way," Brook whispered as she straightened in her seat, watching as Ant-Man rushed by
them, effectively stopping traffic.

That was impossible, Scott was still on Compound arrest! There was no way he...

Then again, Scott had been the only one to neglect today's text messages, but how could he
have made it all the way to California, and more importantly...why?

Now that she thought about it, SHIELD didn’t even have his hero suit, Brooklyn knew
because Scott would've used it during training for sure. Yet there it was, making the adult-
child within as big as the buildings towering on the sides of the streets.

Discretely messaging Natasha something Fury wouldn't be suspicious of, the teen asked,

I asked Uncle Scott to clean up my room. Is he working on it now?

Nat's response was enough confirmation that Scott clearly wasn't in the Compound, and that
Natasha has somehow decided to cover for him.

Everyone is busy in the conference room, they’ve been there all day. But Scott was feeling a
little under the weather so he left to clean. I just dropped off lunch for him in your room, its
looking great.

Fine. Brooklyn did not have any quarrels with Scott Lang, whatever his reasoning to be in
San Francisco where news stations were likely broadcasting his massive form, she'd keep his
secret. The last thing Brook wanted was for Cassie's dad to get in trouble, that would only
revoke the little privileges he had with his daughter now, and likely expand his arrest.

So Brook kept her mouth shut, made Happy swear not to say a thing in exchange for free
food on the rides back to the Compound from now on. That was enough for him to agree, it
actually worked out anyway since Happy swore yesterday that he'd teach Brook to drive so
he could stop being her chauffeur.

She could learn how to drive, and he could eat, a perfect compromise, except for the fact that
Brooklyn would have to make her way to the nearest store to buy Happy food from now on.
Just thinking of little Cassie made it seem worth it though...

On the flight back home, the news did indeed show the Ant Man suit pressed against a wall…
yet miraculously it simply deflated with no one in it, much to Brooklyn's relief.
Fury had video then for an explanation, but both her parents denied seeing Scott, and when
all eyes turned to her, Brook lied, "That wasn't Scott, I've been texting him this whole time
and he’s been cleaning my room all day"

Brook didn't mention that it was actually Nat she was texting on his phone to create an alibi
for Scott. When Fury checked the records of Brook’s phone, he dropped his accusations and
ended the call saying he'd call off the charges from the government.

By the time the tired family made it back to New York, Scott had also made it back just in
time.

Her sestra and Brook kept their mouths shut and acted like he'd been there all day, and the
man had secretly thanked them profoundly for it once he saw the council did not blame him
for the strange happenings of San Francisco that ended with the arrest of a handful of
criminals.

When Brook was getting ready for the drive back to Queens after a quiet dinner with the
team, Scott even gave her a hug in thanks, promising to buy her more candy jewelry as
payment. Though it was a peculiar form of payment, Brooklyn gladly accepted it.

"See, you aren't a bad person!" he'd whispered, "You Black Widows are really just all mush
under that hard shell"

Though it was silly, that small praise remained with her that night as she went back to bed in
her own apartment. It had been a small deed, but one that gave Brook hope that she WAS
headed in the right direction towards a decent redemption.

Damian Wayne POV-

No matter how hard Damian trained, how many sword slashes he performed with perfection
through invisible enemies...he couldn't get the happenings of the gala out of his head.

Though time always seemed to pass quickly when he trained, Damian was certain he'd only
been down at the cave for about two hours. Neither the solitude, the comfort of his Robin
suit, or the familiarity of his katanas could quell the unrest in him.

It only managed to make him more angry and displeased than he already was.

So he continued on with his training, imagining the empty space around him to be that
insufferable young Stark standing in the places his sword struck. Even if by principle he
could not kill her in real life, at least he could fantasize about it. His father would never
know.

Despite not having seen her since that day of the unfortunate Metropolis gala, he could
perfectly recall everything he’d witnessed up close. That red hair whose shade was so
different from her lipstick (both of which he had already matched mentally with paint he
could mix), the smooth fabric of her dress, even the awful feeling of her hands on his body.
Of course, thanks to father, he'd see her soon enough in an environment that was also less
than ideal. A part of his mind was actually eager for the weekend to pass, probably so he'd
get to finish his mission quickly enough to prove his superiority to the others. The other part
wondered if it was even a good idea to have a Wayne and Stark in a building.

"You know," a familiar voice said behind him, echoing across the cave, "If you wanted a
sparring partner all you had to do was ask, Baby Bat"

With a roll of his eyes, Damian turned around to see Nightwing in his familiar vigilante suit,
throwing his domino mask by the control tables full of papers from ongoing investigations.
Grayson stood there, staring down at Damian with a knowing smirk that only managed to
infuriate the youngest further.

"Thought you'd be back at Bludhaven by now, Richard" the young Wayne said, sheathing his
katana once he realized training was no longer an attractive way to spend his time if he was
being watched. He’d come down to the cave for privacy after all.

The eldest merely laughed, "Bruce needed me to do some extra patrols on the south side of
the city tonight. It was either I go with him or Jason went, and we both know how that
would've ended up"

Carnage, or at the very least a very loud fight.

Damian wouldn't have minded seeing either one of those happen, especially if they ended
with Jason injured, that distorted ego of his reduced substantially. Alas, Grayson had a point,
fighting at times like these would do little to no good.

There were people out there who thought they could harness alien weapons, and with the
level of success the 'Bat team' had as of late, fighting would certainly not help their odds. Of
course, the situation could've been different if Bruce just let Damian go out and investigate
the crime belly of Gotham for himself…

Damian huffed in annoyance, making to exit the training mats when he heard rushing steps
toward him.

"C’mon, little D! Don't be so reticent now, aren't you excited for school tomorrow? You know
we'll be around to help you, no need to be so troubled over this mission!" Dick said, halting a
few steps behind him.

Damian set down his own domino mask on a nearby table, keeping his back to his brother as
he unclasped the black hooded cape off his back. A cape whose golden inside was still
pristine and devoid of blood thanks to Pennyworth’s superior laundry tricks.

"I'm surprised you even know what reticent means," Damian replied, "Where did you hear
the word used properly? Sesame Street?"

Despite the intention to insult the eldest until he left, Grayson actually laughed at the
comment while settling down on the table Damian was using. After Dick's escrima sticks
joined Damian's sword and cape, he asked, "I'm serious, are you nervous about your mission?
You've been more quiet that usual these past two days, spending an awful lot of time down
here by yourself"

"I'm spending time down here because I've been forbidden from going out on missions or
patrols" Damian said, letting some of his frustration show with an elevated tone.

Dick smirked, "That's because you have your own mission to fulfill, what good will it do for
you to show up on your first day of school tomorrow with bruises? People might think we're
a bad family to you, there aren't as many incidents in Queens as there are here, it won't be
normal"

Family. Such a loosely used term Damian often refused to acknowledge. Aside from Bruce,
no one else here was of Damian's blood, that was fact.

"If you are implying I am unable to fulfill this mission then you will surely lose the money
you've likely bet against me with the others. I never lose, I never fail" the teen replied,
discarding the rest of the armor-like pieces of his Robin suit before turning to leave the Bat
Cave.

Damian knew that since Dick was back from patrols, it would only be a matter of minutes
until everyone else swarmed the cave with their loud conversations and unnecessary teasing.
The rest of his evening would be best doing something worthwhile, like sketch something
before bed to quell his emotions.

A hand loosely wrapped around Damian's wrist halted his movements.

When he looked back,Grayson was smiling as always, looking down at Damian as if he

found the teen's sour mood to be amusing...which he probably did considering any reaction
other than annoyance or anger was considered a victory in his book.

"I actually bet in your favor," he said as if it were obvious, "and this isn't about your inability
to fulfill a mission, it's about your emotions towards it. I know you don't like the Stark girl,
but maybe it could help you to remember that we never tend to like the targets of our
missions anyways. Unless you think Bruce secretly loves the Joker and I fancy Killer Croc?
Maybe you don't like your mission, but that doesn't mean it's useless"

Of course this mission held sizable importance, otherwise Damian would've refused it. They
needed this information to defeat their new enemies, but it was easier going after a criminal
than a public figure who'd gained much favor after the gala.

After a single public appearance, Brooklyn Stark was already the talk of the world, and this
time Damian couldn't just ignore it. He’d paid attention because now the widow was
important, because she was his mission.

Turning to one of the monitors displaying the news beside him, Damian almost let out a
frustrated groan when he realized the muted screen he’d turned on earlier was still praising
Stark Jr’s surprise appearance in San Francisco this weekend.
It was incredibly illogical, how could a girl eating street food be considered an admirable
action? How could the rich and wealthy from the gala keep eagerly attending interviews only
to brag about the greatness of the newest member of high society? What really managed to
make Damian want to destroy every screen down at the cave was the fact that he too was
often mentioned as of late.

Normally, news coverage of Damian was limited to Wayne Enterprises appearances, maybe
even some complaints over his attitude and lack of empathy. He was completely fine with
that, it wasn’t like the blood son of Bruce needed praise from strangers.

This weekend, things had taken an unsavory turn.

As he stared at the giant monitor, Damian beheld the news anchor going on about the Stark-
Wayne rivalry, the height of gossip all weekend that though sometimes brought up in years
past, had increased popularity across the masses after the gala appearance. Some open-
mouthed brat had given an interview this morning about the gala’s private happenings,
mentioning there was some interaction between the two heirs, and that had been enough to
spark a wildfire with him in the center of it all.

It seemed the person who’d relented the information wasn't stupid enough to piss off Bruce
Wayne, because details of the evening remained scarce, but it had lead to unpleasant attention
from the media filled with speculation Damian had done his best to avoid even mentioning.

The screen beside Damian currently showed Anthony Stark, Pepper Potts, and his new
enemy going down to an unassuming pier, smiling at each other without a care in the world.
Seeing those glowing brown eyes, that seemingly innocent sundress...how could no one know
that the new celebrity sweetheart they boasted about was a dangerous assassin!?

He'd seen her kill, that was enough for him to see past the facade of the perfect new Stark.

With a huff, Damian turned away from the origin of his annoyance, brushing off Grayson's
touch harshly so he could finally go back to his room at last. Perhaps simple sketching
wouldn't be enough to quell his worries anymore that his blood began to boil with hatred at
the mere thought of the Stark. Maybe he’d need to haul over a canvas and get lost in the
strokes of a brush until even his clothes were covered in paint. Only then might he find some
peace.

Of course, Richard had never been so easy to dismiss.

"I’m not teasing you, not entirely! At least say you're happy to go to a new school! Jon is
coming with, isn't that something to be happy about?"

Damian turned back to face the circus freak with a less than amused frown, "I don't care
about attending a new school, as long as everyone stays out of my way and I can get my
mission done in record time, I’ll go back to Gotham Academy in no time"

The ‘sibling’ the others often dubbed fondly as Big Bird for his years of seniority and
responsibility actually fell to the ground laughing, wiping down invisible tears from his eyes
like a child.
Damian could only stare down at the fallen man with disgust. Disgust that no matter how
hard he’d tried in years past, could never revert to hatred. He’d never go around calling
Grayson anything special, but even Damian could admit that if the adult before him was
considered Batman’s closest Robin…then in the past few years, Damian had not minded
becoming Nightwing’s preferred Robin from time to time.

Of course, moments like these made the teen question his ally.

"Don't tell me the great and all mighty Damian Wayne is afraid of a little socializing?"
Grayson asked between laughs.

Damian could help but stand taller at the accusation.

"I'm not afraid of anything. It may have escaped your notice, but classmates, teammates, or
any other interaction with people is a liability, Grayson. Simple as that" Damian replied,
matter-of-factly.

The eldest stopped his laughter, looking up with a raised brow from his causal reclined stance
on the cushioned floor. His stare wasn’t judgemental by any sense, but it was curious, with a
hint of something within those blue orbs that had always made Damian feel as if the eldest
knew something he didn’t.

It was infuriating.

Calmer now, Grayson asked, "I know your ideology very well, you forget I'm the one who
has to sit through your parent-teacher conferences when your professors complain of your
reclusive tendencies. But if that's your view of things, then what am I to you?"

Probably the only person Damian could talk to about important matters, even if the teen did
leave many things out at times. Grayson was his mentor just as much as Bruce was, but he
was always there where his father fell behind.

The eldest of Bruce's wards was always the first to wish Damian a happy birthday and the
last to place blame on him. It was Grayson who introduced a ten-year-old Damian to Jon (his
only acceptable company at school and outside of it), and the one that always managed to see
what Damian was truly experiencing, especially when Damian wasn't even sure himself.

Though his mind would not let him admit it, Richard Grayson was...the closest thing to a
brother in this house he had, the person who had perhaps taught him more useful skills for
life than his own grandfather or Bruce.

But Damian valued pride above all else.

"You're an unavoidable irritation," Damian replied instead, arms crossed, and feet impatiently
tapping on the floors as Bat Cow made her way over to them slowly.

Damian's bad mood was instantly slightly uplifted as he ran a hand atop her head. The
slaughterhouse rescue always managed to know when to show up for a comforting presence,
she also knew when to keep in the shadows when training or trouble was going on. He’d like
to think Bat Cow was less of a coward, but even Damian knew now that his pet was more
efficient at comforting others than in a battlefield.

They were polar opposites in that sense.

Though maybe Damian's words and thoughts on companionship had changed these past few
years, with the help of his pets…and if he was feeling generous, Damian might even say
Richard, Jon, and Cassandra had helped as well. He still thought caring about others too
much was a danger, but there were people Damian trusted to an extent.

“You really shouldn't carry those beliefs when this mission is also a chance for a fresh start,
one none of us got outside of Gotham’s responsibilities entrusted to Wayne children. I’d
wager, you could be anyone you wanted in Queens and no one would care” Grayson mused,
not at all deterred by the harsh words, “You don’t have to like me or the others, because
we’re family and we’ll love you regardless. But…just this once consider that maybe people
can be more than enemies or allies”

“Who told you that? Are those more wise words from your Romani mother?”

Despite the usual tenderness that a dead mother’s mention brought to Grayson’s eyes most of
the time, today his expression was that of a deeper kind of longing. Hope, Damian realized.

“No,” the eldest said,“its from a fortune cookie I got at the Gotham Fair”

Damian ran a hand along the bat-shaped patch on Bat Cow's head before she bent down to
rub her nose along Grayson's cheek in greeting. As per usual, the eldest did not mind the
affection, that was until a red alarm went off, echoing across the cave.

The noise and lights scared Bat Cow back to her preferred secluded platform in the cave, but
both Nightwing and Robin knew what that alarm meant as their blue and green eyes met. It
was as if a switch changed in both of Bruce's children, because the two left the mats and
rushed over to the main monitor by the massive table filled with the cave’s primary controls.

The eldest was quick to answer the emergency call, and soon father’s face popped up on the
screen along with smaller screens showing the other members seemingly scattered on
different sides of the city.

"What's wrong, Bruce?" Grayson asked, "I thought you were making your way back?"

Damian's father was in the batmobile, seemingly driving at fast speed with ease only Batman
had, but that could just be because his features were concealed by his mask. The others on the
screens did not try to hide their unease as they swung around the busy city or jumped from
building to building.

Instantly, Damian knew his plans to get lost in painting were as good as forgotten

"I've just received word that the Joker broke out from Arkham Asylum, it seems he had some
outside help," Batman said.
Before Grayson could get a word in, Red Hood shouted back, "I wonder how he managed to
break out!? Of course he has an endless supply of lackeys to do that for him every time
Bruce! If you'd just let me kill him properly this time then none of this would've happened..."

Nightwing cut him off, "Not the time Jay, save the rant for later. Right know we need to focus
on preventing the Joker from disappearing under the grid again"

Damian pulled up another monitor screen so he could spot everyone's location, noticing that
they were all working their way in from different points outside the city boundaries towards
its belly where Arkham was located. Like bees to a hive.

Yet...the police reports showed a car chase on the south side of the city, very close to Barbara
Gordon’s location. A simple check of the police coms confirmed his suspicions.

"The Joker is on the south side of the city, he and eight other suspects are disturbing traffic
near Andru Street, probably headed to Port Adams for a quick getaway. Head east from your
current location Batgirl, you should spot a large white van" Damian informed, trying his
hardest not to side with Todd on this one.

Even he couldn't hide his anger at the Joker having broken out after a mere six weeks behind
bars, incarcerating him had actually been the reason they figured out the Court of Owls was
pulling everyone’s strings in the city for centuries. Dealing with that mess had made father
careless, and as a result not only was the world faced with an alien-weapon threat, but the
Joker had utilized the distraction to escape.

Perhaps Jason's bloodlust should've been an acceptable approach years ago...but that was not
what father wanted. Killing the Joker or anyone for that matter would not fix anything, or so
he often said.

Justice not Vengeance. That was the law governing Damian's mind now, one that would
prevent him from killing as long as Bruce deemed it necessary, or war of an unprecedented
size made it impossible to concern oneself with morality and righteousness.

On another small screen, Timothy Drake was lounging on the back seat of a car, no doubt
leaving work early. Clad in an impeccable tuxedo, he had a small computer on his lap that he
examined with patience that always managed to infuriate Damian. Perhaps because anything
Drake did was of utmost annoyance in his eyes.

"That south side of the city is Mr. Zsasz's territory, maybe it was him who helped this time?"
Drake suggested.

It wasn't a useless possibility...

Bruce hit the reverse shift of the car just as the harlot by his side dressed in the usual
skintight suit began filing her metal claws. Damian knew better than to make fun of the cat-
theme of it all, he’d never been able to bring it up considering his own father dressed as a
bat.
"Then we'll meet the kids there," Selina said, waving at the screen as if they were all going to
the park instead of on a hunt. Her carelessness had always been one of the things Damian
never understood, especially in situations like these.

Damian scoffed at the greeting but made to go get his weapons to catch up, only for Bruce to
halt his movements with a single command that had his body shaking with repressed rage.

"Not you Robin, you stay in the cave. Once Red Robin gets back, he'll take over the technical
assistance. You should go to your room and get some rest" Bruce said, his deep voice loud
and leaving no room for argument.

Damian had to stop himself from shouting back atrocities that would no doubt get him into
further trouble. Not just because father was suggesting Drake needed to provide Damian
assistance, but because once again, he was being benched unfairly.

"Are you insane, father, I have to go help when it's a problem of such magnitude!" he argued,
only to be interrupted by the infamous Cat Woman.

"Remember you have a long-term mission starting tomorrow, Damian. Your siblings can
handle this task just fine" she said with a smirk that wasn’t malicious, but it still had his hold
on the table tightening considerably.

"I don't take orders from you, woman" Damian said with a deadly glare pointed her way, then
turned to his father's masked form in the driver’s seat, "I can still get there in time and then..."

Bruce swerved hard to the right, then replied calmly, "It's settled Damian, you'll stay, and
when I return we'll have another talk about your attitude towards Selina"

Oh great, his favorite never-ending argument!

A hand on his arm stopped Damian from arguing back. Grayson looked down at the teen with
considerate eyes, "We got this one, little D. Though Bruce could have worded it differently,
you really should go upstairs and get some rest. We've all had to sit out missions once or
twice, it's not a big deal"

But it was a big deal, this was the Joker they were trying to stop. The clown wasn't anything
magnificent from the few times Damian had met him, but he had many connections and
alliances that often proved difficult to corner him. Not to mention, the Joker had no
reservations on casualties or destruction around the city.

Bruce would not kill him, though Todd would most certainly try. The rest of the 'team' would
be too busy fighting the clown's goons and the inevitable conflicts between Batman and Red
Hood, resulting in another successful escape from Arkham's top patient. At least if Damian
went, he’d keep his efforts focused on the clown.

Slamming a hand atop the console table, the teen resigned himself to the orders given. Fine,
let Bruce push Damian aside, let Batman see just how much Robin's help could've been
utilized if it wasn’t for the man’s pathetic fretting.
With a final scowl, the teen turned on his heel and walked away from the glowing monitors.

"I'll know if you try to leave the mansion Damian, you better not try it," his father shouted
back, "you better still be home when Jon comes for you tomorrow morning"

Under normal circumstances, Damian would've snuck out, even if the Anti-Escape Damian
Defense System around the house was getting better at keeping within the manors walls. He
could've found a loophole and left, but then he remembered the whole reason why he'd
agreed to the solo mission that would begin tomorrow. It was about proving himself to his
father, showing Bruce that he could be included in even more missions than now as a useful
asset.

Damian would surely get those rights revoked if he rebelled now.

Instead of promising to stay, Damian shot a middle finger back towards the screen, patted a
concerned Bat Cow once on his way out of the cave, and headed up the elevator towards his
room without looking back or bothering with Grayson’s concerned shouts.

For all his anger, Damian refused to do anything about it, even when he longed to trash every
piece of furniture in his room. No, if he thought about all that frustrated him for too long, he
wouldn't have the ability to concentrate on the single mission that could very well determine
his future.

One emotional crisis at a time.

Despite the time he had on his hands, he didn't bother to stay up either, only ate the dinner
Pennyworth made mid-sketch before calling it a night with Titus by his side. He’d had
dreams filled with uncertainty, images depicting father’s disappointment, lifeless bodies
before his own feet, and a girl with bright auburn hair whose familiar laughter echoed around
him as he tried to chase her down.

Come morning, the breakfast counter in the kitchen was empty save for Damian and Jon.
According to Pennyworth, Drake was the only one home, busy down at the bat cave helping
the team chase after the Joker. True to his suspicions, Todd had messed things up in his quest
for vengeance, and thus a nightlong chase had occurred.

His sense of satisfaction was dulled by the fact that the manhunt for the Joker was a main
priority now, meaning no one would be around if Damian's own mission went south.

Not that it would of course, but it would’ve been better to know he had people to report back
to.

"I gotta say, I always love ma's cooking, but these eggs and sausages are the best, Alfred!
You really should open up a restaurant or something," Jon said from his place eagerly
munching on breakfast from the stool beside Damian.

Even when the half-Kryptonian had spoken with a mouthful of food, Pennyworth didn't seem
to mind, nor did he bother reprimanding the teen as the old man took the praise in kind from
his place standing at the kitchen counter fixing up some fruit.
"I'm glad to see you like it, Master Jon. But I'm afraid serving the Wayne family will be the
endeavor of my lifetime. Perhaps in my next life I'll own that restaurant you speak of, I'll call
it The Chipper Robin in honor of Master Damian's ecstatic enthusiasm this morning" the man
said, dry sarcasm not gone unmissed by either teen.

Damian chose to ignore the jab as he took the finishing gulps of his black coffee, and
carefully began buttering his toast despite Jon's continuous loud snickers.

"Never mind his usual bad mood, I'm excited to go on this mission! My dad said that if I do
good, then he'll start taking me on patrols with Aunt Kara! My sisters were so jealous!" Jon
said, raising his arms in the air with an enthusiastic cry of excitement.

"This isn't something to be excited about Jon, we are going into enemy territory" Damian
clarified, but it was no use when Jon was this worked up about something.

Cleaning off the grease on his flannel, the teen used his now 'clean' hands to shake Damian's
still and poised form on the kitchen stool.

"I think you're taking this whole ‘family enemies’ thing a little too far. Brooklyn Stark is just
a girl like us, how could you possibly hate her so much already? My family and I saw her on
the news yesterday, she was feeding seagulls! Seagulls! How could you hate a pretty girl that
does sweet things like that?" Jon asked.

Pennyworth stood next to the kitchen aisle, sighing as his gaze seemed to travel to a distant
and far away time.

"I'm afraid this conflict with the Starks has gone on for far longer than both our life spans,
Master Jon. Since Bruce's great grandfather, Alan Wayne, and Isaac Stark met...things took
an unpleasant turn. I've had to witness childish foolery from generations of both families,
enough so that my hopes for peace between them are almost gone" Pennyworth mentioned, a
fact Damian had been unaware of.

He had spent most of last night’s restless periods researching Midtown High along with as
much as he could on the Starks and their successful enterprise, topics he'd not been very
interested in until now. He'd come across things on the famous family rivalry, but most of it
had to do with Damian's father and Stark

Jon leaned forward on the counter, hands on his messy black hair as he went wide eyed.

"No way! Why did those two old-timers fight anyways? Because of business?" Jon asked,
and even though Damian tried to seem disinterested, he too was slightly curious.

Though Damian forewent the extinct squirming and smiling, he was paying attention now.

"This was in the early 19th century when both companies were founded, little records show
what caused the conflict and Master Bruce's father never spoke of it. All I know is that there
was a large dispute, likely due to the hotheadedness and pride of both bloodlines"
Pennyworth mused as he walked out the kitchen.
Damian tried not to let the useless insult seep in, if only because he's just found something his
research had not provided.

"You're the genius," Jon said, turning sideways to face the silent Robin, "But I'm almost
certain hate towards another family is not a genetic trait passed down through generations,
right? Believe it or not, I do pay attention in Biology"

Damian huffed in annoyance, but said nothing.

"All I'm saying is that we don’t have to go in with the binoculars and loaded weapons, we can
try to be Brooklyn's friend, maybe get to know her and then she'll tell us all we need to know
without any need to sneak around" Jon exclaimed, also daring to steal a slice of toast off
Damian's plate.

Before Damian could reply with an unwavering no to that plan, Pennyworth came back into
the kitchen with two backpacks in hand and placed them on the floor next to the teens.

"What happened to my briefcase?" Damian exclaimed, looking down at the plain onyx-
colored backpack now at his feet.

Pennyworth did not acknowledge anything wrong with the item he brought forth, instead he
replied, "Your eldest brothers feared your...appreciation for more adult-suited items would get
you picked on in your new school. Public school is not what you are accustomed to Master
Damian, kids will make fun of you there if you’re not careful"

Damian wondered how those imbecile ‘brothers’ of his still had time to further ruin his life
while managing to fail exponentially at catching ONE criminal.

Staring down at the unfamiliar item, Damian elected to let it slide for now. It was true he had
inexperience when it came to public school matters, but that did not mean he'd be hindered
by it.

"As if I can't handle a couple of useless teenagers," Damian said, setting his napkin back on
the kitchen aisle with annoyance.

Pennyworth had begun collecting the empty plates while shooting Damian a quick look that
meant only one thing. Shut up and listen. Pennyworth was lucky he was such a useful
servant, otherwise the young ex-assassin may not have allowed it.

"That is the point exactly. You are on a mission where discretion is key, your last name will
already make that difficult as will your previous gyrated encounter with the Stark. I humbly
suggest you get off your high horse and listen to the advice provided to you"

Jon beamed at the words as if they were a cue for something, jumping down from his seat
with a smile.

"Your family is right. Back in Metropolis, I went to public school and they never seemed to
like the rich folks very much. Luckily for you, I knew you would wear your usual fancy
clothes," Jon said, motioning to Damian's black turtleneck, black pants pressed without a
single wrinkle, and the usual polished black dress shoes, "so I brought you one of my flannels
in case you want to throw it over the t-shirt you have under"

Damian actually went wide eyed when he saw Jon pull out a spare clothing item from his
backpack. Though Pennyworth's point made some sense, Damian wasn't willing to be bullied
into changing his clothing for the sake of a mission, not yet at least. This wasn't a fashion
show, this was work.

Not bothering to look back, Damian made his way out the kitchen, trusting Jon would follow.

"I'll send a report to father on the mission’s progress once I arrive back home," the stoic teen
said over his shoulder coldly.

Pennyworth quickly shouted back, "I can pick you boys up from school if you would prefer
instead of flying"

Damian could very well drive himself with his own car if he wished, and would've likely
done so this morning if Jon had arrived earlier before Pennyworth could spot them.

"No need, Pennyworth. I'll be doing some...after school investigations. Expect me back
before dinner" he proclaimed, only to hear the man's tired sigh behind him along with a
whispered 'This won't end up well, will it? I should find the lawyer's phone number just in
case'

That old man was wrong. Everything would go accordingly to plan.

He'd prove it to everyone belonging to this manor, to all his ancestors of both bloodlines, that
Damian could complete this mission all on his own.

Doctor Steven Strange POV-

Master of the Mystic Arts...that's what he was now, an undeniable truth.

With such a title came some responsibilities, some more bothersome than others, but this one
was not one suggested by the other masters around the globe....Strange had chosen to take on
this particular pet project all on his own.

The doctor was currently working on assembling a watch list of individuals who may be a
threat to this plant, not just from within it, but from other dimensions as well. His enhanced
knowledge allowed him to be more aware of the vastness of the multiverse, and after the near
catastrophic event with Dormamu, Steven wanted to be better prepared for anything else that
may cause harm in the future.

Some names on the list required no magical sense to be included. A being such as Loki from
Asgard, another previous visitor to Earth, was an obvious name to add.

Steven would have to deal with Loki soon enough of course, he’d seen that the god’s visit to
the planet was an inevitability...
 For other beings that books did not contain warnings of, or previous experience made him
aware of, the doctor turned to the more magical means to find out what was out there. The
magic was...not exactly straightforward most of the time, mostly whispers, like rumors flying
along the wind.

In the time between his studies and his ‘guardian’ duties for the New York Sanctum, Strange
would spend quite a bit of his time figuring out these names and possible ways to defeat
them. It helped that his companion, Wong, was quite familiar with many if not all texts
available to them.

Things got a little more complicated when certain names came up, not of legendary beings of
great power or creatures completely unknown...but just things that didn't make much sense.

Brooklyn Stark.

A peculiar name Strange had been certain he'd heard wrong at first, it had to be, the man had
seen the news of the new heiress days ago but she was nothing more than a teenage girl.

The thing was, the doctor had an impeccable photographic memory, one that had allowed him
to get his M.D. and Ph.D. at the same time. It was also the reason he'd managed to excel so
quickly in the Mystic Arts. That meant, there was no mistake.

There it was, like a faint whisper, the name of that random girl with no further explanation as
to why she was a threat. It was odd considering her dad was a well known superhero, and
gossip had been relatively positive on the girl after further research on his part.

The magic did not specify if she had been a threat once, would be one in the future, or was
one right now. The spells did not clarify how she would become trouble or even why. So he
went to her current location, San Francisco. That hadn't turned up much information. After
careful evaluation for a day, he realized she was a normal teen on an outing with her family,
perfectly sane and normal.

But Strange hadn't missed the way the Eye of Agamotto had glowed slightly in what he
assumed to be a warning of sorts, even if he’d merely had the object for a limited period of
time the man knew a bad omen when he saw one.

Even when he'd returned back to 177A Bleecker St. with nothing to make sense of his magic,
he pocketed the information for a later time.

Brooklyn Stark…yes, he'd remember that name just in case.

Chapter End Notes

Just a reminder that I am thinking of posting extras and maybe some previews on my
Tumblr if you are interested. You can find me at portalsofatheria
Get ready for the Super-Sons first day in Queens!
 The New Students

Brooklyn POV-

Lounging at the front of the school, Brooklyn gathered with her friends before classes started
in their usually claimed spot. None of them were particularly happy with the cold, but it was
better than spending their last few minutes inside where the air was already stuffy with the
flow of students.

After a long weekend away at the Metropolis gala and the unexpected trip to California,
Brooklyn was in great spirits, something she would've never expected after the turmoil she’d
faced.

Even though the young Stark had an amazing time with her family in San Francisco, some
part of her eased at being back in the now delightful confines of Midtown High. She'd missed
her friends greatly, more than someone of her past should be willing to admit.

If she was being honest, the trip to school with Harry and Peter had been more enjoyable than
usual, and the Stark couldn't help referring to Tony and Pepper as her parents during
conversations of her weekend as much as possible. Where she used to stumble when saying
father months ago, now she proudly replaced the distant word with dad. Brook really couldn't
help it, she was far too thrilled to have a family that actually cared for her, so much so that if
she could, she would likely scream it to the world.

Perhaps it was that blooming happiness that made Brooklyn’s friends question why she was
in such unusual high spirits. Though it did not seem to make them restless, Brook's happiness
in this magnitude WAS a first for them to witness in the time they'd known her, honestly...it
was a first for her as well. Not that they knew that.

"I just had a good weekend with my family is all," Brook said to such claims, not flinching
for once when Harry placed an arm around her shoulders. If anything, she was glad for his
warmth on this chilly morning, her knitted red sweater was only doing as much as it could to
keep her from freezing, and amidst her joyful mood this morning, her coat had been forgotten
back in her flat.

Settling against the warmth of Harry's letterman jacket, Brooklyn shot a smile towards her
friends, who were scattered around the bottom of the main staircase by the parking lot.

It eased something in Brooklyn when all of them returned the gesture without hesitation.

"Your weekend may have been decent, but Friday’s gala was better than good! You guys
should've seen our Brook when she told off the scariest man in the world, and in front of the
whole circus too! To top it off she even humiliated the meanest teen in history, that had me
shedding a tear or joy as the sounds of karma reigned supreme! My dad couldn't stop talking
about it on our way home, I think it's the most I've heard him speak to me in weeks" Harry
said enthusiastically, throwing his pile of books atop the stone railing of the stairs railing with
no care whatsoever.
He used his free hand ( the one not currently around Brook’s shoulders) to play with MJ's
curly hair from her place sitting beside him on the dirty steps leading to their temple of
knowledge. The decathlon leader didn't even seem to notice what was occurring, too busy
with her new book to bother stopping Harry from trying to further curl her hair.

Obviously, the person that did notice the lazy touch was Tanya, and even though she was
dressed like a preppy and gentle cheerleader, Brooklyn could tell her friend was fighting back
the urge to pounce on the boy…which is exactly what Harry wanted. It was an invitation for
yet another spat of words, something Brook now understood both parties couldn’t live
without for a single day.

Peter, who stood on Brook's other side at the foot of the stairs, was the one to shoot her a
quizzical look, ignoring the showdown of stares from their two friends.

"What happened at the gala exactly?" he asked softly as he set down his cluster of chaotic
history notes, leaning close to rest his elbow atop her shoulder, "You told me everything went
well"

Brook couldn’t help but smirk, quickly throwing her own backpack beside Harry's as she
leaned into her friend's hold. Maybe it was a strategy to not focus on the closeness of Peter
Parker, or to prevent his usual comforting scent of lab bunsen burners and the vanilla
sweetness of his apartment to get to her, but Brooklyn chose to focus on the memories from
three days ago.

As expected, some of the frustration and anger seeped through at the mere thought of the
enemy she’d made that night. Now that they were separated by miles upon miles of
distance…it was all a little amusing, how it’d played out.

Brook understood why Harry found it humorous now that she had the time to store those
emotions in a deep corner of her brain.

"Bruce Wayne was out of line when talking to my dad, so I shut him up, no big deal. Of
course, then his son tried to start a fight so I had to end it" the ex-assassin summarized as
vaguely as she could, even when the pride from her actions during that particular dance still
coursed through her veins.

The Waynes were the highest class of duraki she’d ever encountered, though in her opinion,
simply calling them fools was putting it nicely. Despite having relished in telling off their
family patriarch, Brook was far more relieved to be as far away from Bruce Wayne and his
children as possible. Even Brook's dad had been unusually chipper once they returned back
home.

MJ, who'd been calmly seated on the school steps as her hair was teased and curled till now,
managed to look up from her book with a bemused smile. It wasn’t one of her usual smiles
that hinted at the girl knowing more than she was letting on with that brilliant mind of hers,
but rather one of pure jocularity.

"Bruce Wayne, as in the CEO of Wayne Enterprises? The billionaire who funds the Batman
of Gotham?" Michelle asked, almost causing Brook to choke on the chocolate milk she’d
been idly sipping on, a gift from Nana of the metro.

Setting the carton aside, Brooklyn gazed down and asked her friend, "Are you serious, he
really funds that crazed vigilante from crime central, the alleged vampire? Why am I not
surprised?"

Only someone as pretentious as Bruce Wayne would fund a borderline criminal. During the
flight home, Brook had seen the news reports of Batman chasing the recently-escaped Joker,
and there was no denying that even though his actions were done with good intent, they
weren't moral enough to be approved by SHIELD.

The news has also reported that one of the vampire’s sidekicks, the one with the red helmet
who was almost as muscular as Grandpa Steve, had almost killed two cops trying to get to the
Joker. There were videos of other sidekicks trying to stop one of their own while
simultaneously fighting the Joker’s forces, which sounded as chaotic as it was.

Gotham’s vigilante team was even more dysfunctional than Brooklyn and Spider-man
training together, and that was quite a feat.

"I thought he was part gargoyle? Regardless, Batman does have a lot of cool and expensive
gadgets and tech for a vigilante who doesn't get paid," Ned pointed out, "But isn't something
like funding him...I don't know...illegal?"

MJ shook her head, clutching her black rain coat closer to her body so as to shield from the
passing chilling winds rather than fear at the thought of Gotham’s most dangerous celebrity.
Tanya, who also seemed to be bothered by the weather in her cheer uniform despite
consisting of a pants and long sleeve set for once, cursed the passing wind which actually
stopped their friend’s train of thought for a second. A rare sight. When MJ offered to share
her coat with her, Brooklyn had to stifle a laugh as Tanya made it to Michelle's side faster
than Central City’s Flash ever could.

With a girl happily cuddled to her side, MJ looked back up at the rest of the curious group
and shook her head at Ned's question.

"Stuff like funding vigilantes doesn't even have laws to begin with, Ned. As long as Mr.
Wayne doesn't make a profit from it, I’m certain it's legal. I've read through American law far
too often to be certain he's in the clear"

Why would she read through American la....oh wait, this was MJ. Of course she would. That
girl had expensive knowledge of anything and everything that protests for righteous causes
could ever require, something Brooklyn found out was a common hobby from the Decathlon
leader.

Despite MJ’s impressive knowledge, Brook still frowned at her friend's words if only because
that meant Mr. Wayne could not be so easily threatened if they ever came in contact again. It
would've been great if he took his unpleasant family to prison too, especially one member in
particular Brook still thought about too often for her own liking. What a shame.
"Enough about the Waynes," the Stark suggested, throwing her head back as she tried to
purge thoughts of the unpleasant encounter with them out of her mind, "If I ever see one of
them again, I might just have to kill them"

Peter chuckled nervously, "I'm pretty sure THAT is illegal"

The group of six burst into laughter, catching the curious gazes of the nearby clusters of
students hanging out around them. It was a common occurrence by now that Brooklyn could
actually ignore it, the visibility and nosiness.

She'd often heard the whispers from classmates though, as they wondered how some of the
most popular students in school (meaning Tanya, Harry, and Brook) could be friends with
some of the least popular in their ranks (meaning Ned, MJ, and Peter).

In their eyes, the friendships Brooklyn had developed were not adhering to the status quo, but
she didn’t often pay it any mind. She and her friends made it work somehow, balancing their
two worlds without caring what gossip or rumors whispered across the school’s hallways. As
a Stark, Brook supposed she wasn’t one for playing by the rules of what was supposed to be
or not anyways.

Tanya looked up from her place leaning on MJ's shoulder, rolling her eyes, "Oh c’mon,
Brook! You wouldn't kill a fly, you sweet thing. If anything I'd have to kill the Waynes for
you"

The ex-assassin actually had to hold back her laughter at the comment.

If only her friends knew they were standing before an actual trained murderer. But it was
flattering that Tanya thought so highly of Brooklyn, a sweet sentiment that only made the
girl's mood brighten despite the cloudy skies around them and the promise of a history quiz
on the horizon.

It was oddly pleasant to be seen as one of them, as someone innocent and normal. It might
still be a cruel deception, but Brooklyn enjoyed being that even if it was only in the halls of
Midtown.

"Is that so?" Brooklyn teased, "I was seriously considering murder because of all the
weekend homework Mr. Travis assigned. I've never had so much history shoved into my
brain all at once"

Harry pulled Peter close so he ended up flush against Brook's side. The movement caused
Peter to almost stumble into the Stark, enough so that he actually had to steady himself with
an arm around her as well.

It took great effort to keep Tanya's words out of her mind, and even more so the slight heat
pooling at her cheeks. Brook had never been more grateful for the minimal make-up that
would surely mask the rosiness of her cheeks. Having Tanya as her morning stylist via video
call was really paying off.
"Peter and I got lucky," Harry commented, completely oblivious to the slight panic in Brook's
mind, "Mrs. V is the sweetest! She barely gives us a thing to worry about in history class!"

"It's a wonder you manage to do homework at all, Osborn" Tanya scoffed bitterly yet
playfully, "Maybe next year you'll feel the wrath of Mr. Travis' extreme assignments. You'll
join Brook and I in our little murder mission then"

Brooklyn had been too busy laughing with Tanya to notice Harry's arm around her form had
gone limp. It wasn't until Brook heard him curse under his breath and noticed the rising
whispers from the other students around them increasing that the Stark stopped laughing.

Usually, people would try to be very discrete in their gossiping, so what could warrant a
change of such magnitude?

Looking up at the school building beside them, the girl noticed people were leaning on the
railings by the front door, eagerly looking down at the football field behind Brook. Even the
students lounging by their cars in the parking lot nearby were crowding around each other to
behold whatever was causing a scene below.

For a brief second of blind worry, Brooklyn dreaded turning around and seeing criminals with
alien weapons in search of retribution against her ‘heroic’ actions from this weekend. Though
she and SHIELD had been certain her involvement could not be reported back to the cause,
maybe she’d missed a spy at the gala.

Though it was an unusual thought, her days of training in Shield had Brook considering that
there were too many students for the girl to try and save if such a scene was to take place. If
that were the case, she'd have to showcase her...agent abilities before her friends and
classmates to try and save them.

A darker part of her mind was hesitant to turn, not just because of the possibility of mere
criminals, but in the dread that someone like Ivan would be standing there.

Life was just starting to look up for her, and Brooklyn would not be able to handle someone
like him right now, a reminder of the past she’d now left behind entirely in favor of
something better. Imagining his cold gray eyes, the sound of a whip, a gun, it was all too
horrifying to linger on.

Luckily she didn’t have to turn because Harry spoke up past her worries, catching the
attention of the group of friends who'd been looking up at the school building and around
their peers for answers to the change in atmosphere.

Unfortunately, the news he delivered weren’t any better than what she’d been dreading.

"Guys, I don't think it will be Mr. Travis whom Brook will end up killing today after all,"
Harry said, then pointed down the massive football field below with a disgusted scowl with a
muttered curse.

The chilling fact was that Harry rarely cursed.

It wasn't often that something of great magnitude managed to wipe the lazy smirk off his
face, not even his first encounter with Brook had received such a baffled look from the teen.
The rareness of that alone had Brook prying herself from Peter’s and Harry’s arms,
descending down a few steps and moving towards the railing with the intention of protecting
her friends from whatever harm she might encounter.

Unfortunately, many students had gathered by the front of the school in the time it took her to
react, enough that Brook and her friends in tow had to push past what seemed to be most of
the student body. As the teen finally made it to the front of the crimson railing, she dared to
look down with a hidden blade in hand, ready to jump down if need be.

Brooklyn then realized Harry's words may hold some truth after all, death may indeed be on
the horizon, and even all of her practiced restraint wouldn't be able to help in this case. The
hidden blade in hand almost slipped out of her usually sturdy grip, and were it not for the
presence of her friends closely huddled around her and the barrier of dozens of students
behind them, Brooklyn might’ve run…either towards the field or out of the school’s vicinity
entirely, the Stark wasn’t sure.

She actually had to blink a few times to confirm she wasn't imagining the sight before her,
had to fight all logic to acknowledge that what she was seeing was the undisputed truth.

"Nevozmozhno," she whispered. Impossible.

Down below not thirty feet from the now very angered ex-assassin clutching onto Peter's
arm, lazily making his way down the football field was none other than the guy Brook had
hoped to never see again in her life.

Damian Wayne.

Even if their first and last encounter had only been a few days ago, some part of the girl had
purged his physical looks out of her mind, only to be reminded now what the face of her
enemy looked like.

Much like the day of the gala, Damian walked with all the confidence and poise in the world,
sneering faintly at all he passed by, with little care for manners and formalities to those he
clearly deemed inferior. His dark green eyes were still cold and guarded, and his face was
still a replica of his father's sneer. Those eyes though, they were the eyes that had haunted her
at night lately, with simple flashes or glimpses that reminded her of the first person she’d
been stumped by in years.

Even when he wasn't wearing an expensive suit, now adorning a simple pair of black pants
and a warm black turtleneck, he still looked like he was worth a million dollars...that son of a
bitch. There wasn’t a hair out of place, not a sign of weakness as he strutted calmly across the
artificial blades of grass while even the sun obscured itself from sight behind a cover of
clouds. Though he had no visible weapons in hand, Brooklyn couldn’t help but wonder if he
had any concealed in his clothes as she had, if he had any like that night of their shared
dance.
It may have been the pushing of students around her like unsettled waves in the sea, but
Brook could’ve sworn that the mere sight of him brought back a ghost of a feel against her
back, like the pointed end of the Wayne’s blade was once again pressing against her back.

Her blinding rage at the sight of him almost obstructed Brook from noticing the teen walking
by Damian's side. Almost.

It could be another Wayne Harry forgot to mention, the girl thought. He hadn’t been at the
gala on Friday, of that she was sure, the Wayne's companion was almost impossible to ignore.

Standing a good head taller than the Wayne assassin, the mystery teen stood out from him not
just by their height difference alone. This blue-eyed boy was smiling as if he'd won the
lottery, with visible dimples that only made him look that much more innocent and friendly.
His lazily-arranged black hair looked so at odds with Damian's carefully arranged hairstyle
despite their similar color, and Brook couldn't help but wonder if the two were as different as
they looked.

This new and strange boy was not scaring the parting crowds away with glares and arrogance
as he passed by, but instead waved at the frozen students that couldn't help but gawk at him in
return, going as far as shouting greetings to everyone who had their eyes on him.

Even with a pair of old jeans and a red flannel over a simple blue tee, the mysterious teen did
not appear bothered by the cold weather. In fact, he seemed to be unbothered by all that was
going on around him, the attention or the whispers that arose as he walked past each yard line
of the field

Had Brook been one to bother with poetry, she might’ve admitted the two resembled a dark
shadow and a beaming sun. But they both had a presence about each other that demanded
attention, one that sparked fear and unease, the other awe and eagerness to be near. Perhaps
tragically, the only poetry she’d been taught as a child had been an old Russian poem that she
could only roughly translate to English now.

Do not hide, do not crouch, remain proud and tall,

Spare no bullets and fight as you've sworn.
And do not spare yourselves…

Brook had always assumed it was a cluster from a much larger text, and though she knew not
who wrote it or when, Ivan had said it enough that it stuck. That piece of poetry might not be
best to describe what the two incoming teenagers looked like, but it was well enough to
describe how she felt about their arrival.

Just as the crowds around Brooklyn and her friends parted slightly to give her space once
they noticed she was in their midsts, the hundreds of students down below cleared a path for
the strangers heading towards the school building.

Damian Wayne was here....that demon from the rumored Nanda Parbat who'd crossed her
during the gala was actually walking the school grounds of Midtown like he owned the
place.
Why, was the question. WHY!?

Only Brooklyn truly knew who that bastard was, that he was an assassin of formidable skill,
and him being at her school couldn't possibly be a coincidence after their first encounter.

Was Damian Wayne somehow here to kill her? Did his League of Assassins want her dead
simply for being a supposedly-extinct rival? Though ludicrous, it wasn’t an impossibility.

The uncertainty of the situation was all that held Brooklyn back from tackling the Wayne into
a deadly hold down on the field. Instead, she used Peter's body to quickly hide her presence
as the two teens passed by on their way towards the stairs.

Staring at the stranger’s backs, Brook noticed with horrifying realization that both had
backpacks on, a chilling clue that they were not here for business of some sort. As the crowds
continued to part around the unusual pair, all the Stark could do was glare and hold back her
possibly violent puzzlement.

There was something about seeing him here of all places, the cathedral of normalcy where
being a Stark or past member of the Red Room did not exist. Damian Wayne being here, both
because of his past and current last name…it was shattering that calming deception.

Only once the strangers made it inside the unseen halls of the main building and the crowds
outside began to scramble back to their respective places or rushed inside for more insight,
did Ned ask, "Who was that? He was...otherworldly in the most terrifying of ways"

Her friends' speculations halted when they noticed Brooklyn's suddenly unexplainable anger
rising, her gaze still locked on the main doors of Midtown High where the figures
disappeared. There was none of the previous warmth from their shared jokes, only a guarded
exterior, concern…and of course that anger she just couldn’t stifle. It only lessened
momentarily because Peter suddenly brought the girl into a reassuring hug, one she didn't
even have the mind to bother blushing about.

It was Harry who finally shook his own surprise enough to explain to those unaware in their
group, it was him who uttered the words even Brook could not.

"Guys…that was Damian Wayne," Harry had whispered with his eyes locked on the massive
building behind them just as Brook was, "and I have no clue what the fuck he's doing in
Queens"

Brooklyn barely felt the winds ruffle her hair, it's cold kiss grazing her exposed skin. Her
eyes remained forward as her usually relaxed stance changed into something one might
mistake for regality. Damian Wayne was a long way from New Jersey and had just crossed
onto her territory, whether it was intentional (likely) or intentional (unlikely), Brook would
make it her mission to find out which one it was.

**********

Brooklyn sat in her Literature class with a restlessness that was uncharacteristic of her.
Tapping her foot against the floor with rapid unease while clutching her book rather harshly
did nothing to lessen the tornado of thoughts and emotions that tried to make sense of what
had occurred earlier.

If MJ saw the way the poor book was being treated, Brook would certainly be dead, the teen
thought as a way to try and drive back her worries.The poor joke did little to quell the
instincts boiling in her blood like living flames.

Even as Mrs. Pettel kept up her monotone reading of Gatsby's final moments in the land of
the living, the ex-assassin couldn't pay attention to a single word that was said. Her eyes were
locked on the clock atop the white board, carefully tracking the passing of time.

It wasn't until seven long minutes had passed that the girl did something very anomalous to
her everyday routine. The usually quiet Brook actually raised her hand mid-reading, asking
for the class pass to go to the restroom.

The teacher granted the request with little thought, but it was Tanya who suddenly stopped
Brook's rising motion with a hand on her elbow. A touch the teen had almost shaken off
harshly, which spoke of how much this mystery arrival was shaking with her head.

If Tanya noticed the slight flinch against the subtle hold, she did not let on.

"Where are you going? Is everything alright?" Tanya whispered, chocolate-colored eyes
swimming with concern, dusty and worn book long forgotten in her other hand.

Brooklyn shrugged as casually as she could, "Just the restroom, have to touch up my lipstick"

Even though the ex-assassin was certain Tanya saw through her bullshit, her friend let her go
without another inquiry. It just so happened that Brooklyn made it out into the quiet hall just
in time to see the main office door open at its end.

With reference to her first day at Midtown, Brook had estimated that it would take any new
student less than ten minutes to get their stuff sorted out from the office, and only five
minutes since the bell rang for every student to make it to class, even those who were running
late.

Her prediction had proven true.

Just as she'd feared when passing the office on her way to literature class, the books and
papers being handed to the boys meant only one thing. They too had transferred to this school
just as Brook had, at an odd point in the school year that could only be brought up by
necessity.

It made no sense, and the lack of understanding of it all was enough for the Stark to hide
behind the row of lockers to avoid being seen by the two teens. Though the urge to call her
dad for an explanation was immense, Brook kept the phone in her pocket untouched, but she
did have a conscious awareness of the watch on her wrist just in case she needed to utilize it.

It seemed luck was on her side today, because the seemingly friendly stranger turned the
other way after the two placed their belongings inside lockers far too close to Brook's own for
her liking. The stranger was now heading up the stairs on the other end of the hall to an
unknown class, still beaming with a smile that lit up the space.

He was a peculiarity, perhaps another League Assassin? No matter how much Brook tried to
consider that possibility, it didn’t seem like that was the case, he was much too effervescent
and sweet to fit the mold. There had to be a hidden strength and resilience there somewhere,
because unlike everyone else here, this mystery teen did not seem the least bit bothered by
Damian's passive expression.

"Good luck in class, Damian! I'll see you in literature later, that is our first class together
right?" the boy said, earning a huff from Damian, who replied, "It would seem so, don't cause
trouble until then"

The stranger chuckled, laughter akin to angelic chimes, then said sarcastically, "I should be
the one telling you that. If your middle name wasn’t so obviously stubborn, it would
definitely be troublemaker"

As Brook beheld the two part ways, she noticed Damian Wayne was making his way down
the hall where she was currently at. That made her job all the easier. He was staring down at
his schedule with distaste, too distracted by whatever he found inadequate with it to notice
Brooklyn make it out of her hiding place, striking as quick as viper.

In seconds, she formulated a plan and damned all the consequences along with it.

Maybe Brook could not attack the Wayne in fear of getting in trouble, but she would get
answers in other ways. Whatever this game was, it would begin on her terms.

Thrusting her arm against his neck, she used Damian's shock to easily maneuver the teen to
the left side of the hall where a janitor's closet was located. With her free hand, Brook opened
the door as quickly as she could and carefully closed it (to keep neighboring classrooms
unaware) before shoving the Wayne against the cluttered wall of the small closet.

In the darkness, Brooklyn's eyes hadn't yet adjusted to see his face clearly, but the ex-assassin
did hear his book drop to the floor between them, followed by the feeling of a strong hand
that now fought the force of the arm millimeters from crushing his windpipe.

“You…” Brooklyn spat.

The Wayne took in his surroundings as quickly as she might've in this situation, ultimately
deciding his attention need be only on her.

“Stark,” he muttered disgustedly as way of greeting, though his hold against her didn’t ease.

With his visible nonchalance in mind, Brooklyn added with equal vigor, “Don’t act as if you
didn’t know I’d be here, we both know that's a lie. Aren’t we past silly games like that?”

“Perhaps. Yet, I certainly didn’t think you’d extend such an impolite welcome of this
magnitude”
Impolite welcome? What was his sneering her way during Brook’s first gala, a sign of a
unifying camaraderie? How laughable. This wasn’t the place for proper manners, not when
his existence in this very school was practically an act of war.

"You insolent demon, what are you doing at my school!? I thought I told you I never wanted
to see you again!" Brooklyn whispered harshly, getting close enough to feel the warmth of his
breath against her cheek.

Damian's grip on her arm increased enough that Brook quickly pried his legs apart, placing
one of her own legs behind his so that she could easily trip him if need be. The teen before
her was not panicked in the least despite his clear disadvantage, if anything, now that her
eyes adjusted to the darkness, Brook noticed his distasteful scowl remained in place.

"Why would I answer to you, Stark?" Damian sneered, "My business is none of your
concern, so you better unhand me before you regret it. I don't like to be touched"

That last part was nothing short of a warning, but Brooklyn merely let out a dark chuckle at
the threat.

"None of my business you say? You're a member of the League of Assassins at MY school,
where MY friends are. Like hell I'd let a criminal like you roam around without questioning
your motives" she spit back, holding on to the images of her mom's smile and her dad's
prideful grins so she wouldn't actually end up killing this idiot. They wouldn’t want her to do
it, even if he was a Wayne.

What she didn't expect for one second was for Damian to quickly work around her clever
hold, pushing her against the other end of the closet so quickly that the impact of Brook's
back against the concrete wall and stray broom actually knocked her breath away for a few
seconds. In that disorienting time, the Wayne placed his own arm against her neck, then with
his free hand he pulled out a small blade from within his turtleneck’s sleeve and pressed it
near her collarbone, past the warmth of the red wool against her skin.

That quickly, their positions had shifted, and now it was Brook’s enemy that stood towering
before her with the wall to her back. Had she been granted a moment of reflection, Brooklyn
would’ve marveled at the fact that someone worked around such a hold, but she trusted her
brain had cataloged the countermove for future use nonetheless.

"You think you can threaten me, Stark? You're no match for me, so I suggest you stay out my
way before I'm forced to murder a murderer" he whispered, but just as quick as his threat had
come did he flinch slightly.

The finch was because Brook had reached out to the unsteady cabinet beside her, grabbing an
unassuming pencil and placed it against his stomach, right where his kidney should be. Sure,
he could slash that blade of his against her neck in seconds, but the movement of said action
would be enough for Brooklyn to stab that pencil into his body just as quickly.

Checkmate.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Brooklyn whispered back, jabbing the pencil just a little
more against his skin so he got the memo that his life was in her hands...just as hers was in
his apparently.

This was a match of wills now. Assassin vs Assassin.

Though Brook hadn't expected him to be this skilled, she'd forgo her promise not to kill just
to end this demon's life gladly. Looking up into those emerald eyes, Brooklyn felt nothing but
hatred, enough so that she didn’t much care that she too was at a disadvantage.

Damian Wayne lowered his head down slightly, not to attack, but to gaze down at her with
nothing short of deadly anger that could very well rival hers. For a few seconds neither
assassin said a thing, just scowled at each other, pressing their weapons or limbs closer as a
reminder of their power every now and then.

Like their first dance, this too was a clever little battle that could be deadly, but it was the fact
that it was a challenge and that neither teen could hold an advantage for too long that made it
something with far higher stakes.

Maybe she should've called her dad after all...

Despite the clear discomfort their closeness was causing him, Damian did not falter as his
face neared her own, making sure she could see the determination within those peculiar eyes
she could barely make out in the dark as he whispered, "You have five seconds to unhand
me"

As if his words had the opposite effect of following any command from him in her mind,
Brooklyn only brought their bodies closer in defiance, even if the bite of his small blade was
starting to become noticeable against her neck.

Brooklyn made sure she let go of all previous teasing joy from earlier so he could truly see
just how pissed off she was, then slowly whispered "Not until you leave this school, go back
to the cold and dark place you came from"

The teen scoffed, and she could’ve sworn his voice got deeper as he replied coldly, "No"

"Why? You hate me, I hate you, that much is obvious. A Stark and Wayne can't possibly
coexist in the same school, so take one for the team and get the hell out before I lose sight of
my morals " she whispered.

Damian didn't seem threatened in the least, but his voice got slightly louder as he leaned
further down towards her face. Out of her own act of defiance, the girl did not flinch or move
away even when the shift made both their blades brush painfully against the other’s flesh.

The pain was nothing, neither reacted to it. Even when they shared the same air, when their
noses occasionally brushed against one another, neither relented an inch, and it was then that
Brooklyn realized her strength and will may very well be matched by one other individual in
this world. Of course it had to be her greatest enemy that she shared that quality with, it
would make a battle with him quite cumbersome.
Let him come closer, Brook thought cruelly, I’ll bite his nose off when he does.

"You think I relish in attending this ridiculous school. If you have a problem with it, then
perhaps it is you who should leave" he challenged.

Oh, how she'd love nothing more than to walk away from him. But now Brook had friends
here, people she cared about that roamed these halls. Never would she leave them here to
fend with a dangerous assassin around, poor Peter wouldn't last a second against a League
assassin picking on him…she'd be damned if Damian ever got near him.

In a more technical sense, she'd arrived here first, leaving would just be like surrendering
defeat to this particular enemy that could not be afforded any wins.

"What happened then to warrant such a change of schools at this point in the school year so
suddenly?" she asked, "Did daddy dearest kick you out of Gotham? Did he find out his son
was an assassin and abandoned you?"

Damian pressed his arm harder against her windpipe, almost enough to hinder her breathing.

"You know nothing about me, Stark. Assuming such ridiculous notions only proves your lack
of intelligence and understanding" he replied with a ferocity she’d been expecting. It was a
necessary strategy, suffering a little pain to get the answers he knew he wouldn’t give out so
easily. But this close, Brooklyn could practically see the truth in his gaze, knowing now that
neither of her top guesses were correct.

Fighting his hold, Brooklyn tried to rearrange her free arm to attack, but her movements did
not go unnoticed by the Wayne. In the blink of an eye, the hand with her watch was pinned in
place above their heads, and the blade by her neck was now pressed directly into the skin
above her windpipe.

Checkmate.

Oddly enough, though Brook still wanted nothing more than to murder him, she’d had to
fight off the stranger urge to smirk. Again, just as she thought she’d had an advantage in
battle, her enemy had retaliated. The concept of now truly being at a greater disadvantage
was no laughing matter, nor was it amusing…but it felt like they’d been at war all their lives,
as if this push and pull without any clear victory was something they could've been doing for
hundreds of years.

Maybe family rivalries were more potent than Brook had given them credit for.

Despite her better judgment given the latest move against her, Brook couldn't help but raise
her voice slightly regardless of the danger to her life, "Your rudeness and irrevocable
manners only prove YOUR lack of intelligence and understanding!"

The grip on her raised wrist tightened painfully.

With his voice raised just above a whisper, the black-haired teen retaliated with equal venom,
"I would relish in nothing more than to never see your pretentious face ever again, but I will
not tolerate your..."

Hearing the faint yet unmistakable noises of footsteps nearby, the girl dropped the pencil
against her enemy’s skin so she could place that palm against the Wayne’s mouth to
successfully muffle his shouts and complaints.

She knew that whistling outside the door well enough after being in this school for so long, it
belonged to the janitor himself. A janitor who was making his way towards them, towards
two teens that were in his storage closet that he shouldn’t have ventured to till mid-day.

With only seconds to consider the huge trouble she'd be in if she was caught inside the
forbidden space to students, during class hours on top of that, the girl used her feet to quickly
kick the nearby rusting chair towards the door, doing her best to arrange it into place against
the handle.

Seconds before the handle rattled, the chair had assumed its defensive position, and the door
remained closed.

In her efforts to spare them from discovery, Brook had failed to notice just how much closer
she'd had to get against the Wayne's body to do so. Their chests were against one another's,
noses touching, scents mingling enough that the girl could now clearly identify the
sandalwood cologne and peppermint toothpaste he’d have used this morning. In addition to
that, his blade was also much nearer to her skin, enough so that it was now stabbing into the
flesh of her collar bone with a slightly painful sting.

Brook could feel a single drop of blood travel down her neck.

The janitor was still trying to open the door, preventing Brooklyn from cursing at her enemy.
Not that she could've regardless. Once his green eyes met her brown ones, both wide in shock
at their proximity...she couldn't move and to her puzzlement Damian seemed just as frozen.

Both held their breaths until they heard the violent rattling of the door stop. From its other
side, Brook heard the janitor mumble, "Could've sworn I left this open, now I have to go find
the stupid key. Fantastic!"

With that, the sound of footsteps vanquished, and when the echoes of whistling ceased to be
heard, both teens let out a sigh of relief. No longer caring about being intimidating or
threatening the Wayne, Brooklyn ducked under his loosened hold and scrambled for the other
side of the closet, trying not to throw up after realizing how close she'd been to him.

She knew her moving away from him at last was not necessarily a win or loss for either of
them, they’d both been so busy trading insults that they’d almost gotten caught. Though
Brooklyn would’ve enjoyed the irony of Damian Wayne getting in trouble on his first day of
school as she had, the Stark wasn’t sure if a second strike of her own would’ve gotten her
expelled.

After finding her hall pass on the floor, the girl removed the chair quickly and whispered
back, "Do whatever the fuck you want, Wayne. Just stay out of my way and far from my
friends. Keep your motives to yourself if you want, but you make one wrong move, and I'll
kill you"

The sound of shuffling came from behind her, her enemy kneeling down to fetch his
forgotten items with cold fury radiating off him. Once they both crowded by the door,
Damian looked down at her from within the darkness of the small closet, whispering back
with as much malice as he could summon, "Don't flatter yourself, Stark. I have no motives,
and I could care less about your friends. I'm sure no one actually actually wants to spend time
around you anyways"

Before Brook could bite back with another retort, he stepped out the door as quickly as he
could, then at a pace that was far from his usual unbothered stroll, he angrily made his way
down the hall.

Even as his figure disappeared from her line of sight, Brooklyn couldn’t help the swirling of
questions inside her head. Him being here was not supposed to happen, her interrogating him
straight on was not something a spy of her caliber should’ve done, and most important of
all…it was painfully clear now that the Wayne had no intention of leaving.

On her way back to class, Brook made sure the small bleeding wound from that demon's
blade was covered with the neckline of her sweater. With a roll of her eyes, Brooklyn
supposed having chosen crimson fabric had been a good choice. Yet in her short walk back to
a class she’d no doubt be mentally absent from, the teen realized that all of her solutions for
this issue ended with violence, she wasn't foolish enough to think she could deal with this on
her own with so many unknown variables. Perhaps she didn’t trust herself to.

So she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to her dad. It was short and simple, masking
the internal panic that had the leash on her old instincts pulling a little harder than usual.

Damian Wayne just transferred to my school.

It wasn't until the girl was back in class, drowning out her teacher's reading with the anger
boiling up inside her veins, that she got a reply from him. With Tanya on look out, Brooklyn
hid her phone under her desk and read.

A Wayne? Has he bothered you?

Brook wanted to throw her table across the other end of the room, because yes he HAD
bothered her just by being here, by existing in her safe space. But she supposed it was her
who went in search of that most unfortunate confrontation…but she hadn’t done it because
they were family enemies, that was secondary to the worry she had over having another
assassin at this school.

Just to make sure her dad truly understood the severity of this issue, the young Stark realized
she would have to share what she knew about the mysterious Wayne and his affiliation with
the League of Assassins. But she didn't trust texting to do the trick with such a valued secret.
So, Brook replied with a simple no, and went on with the English lesson in the hopes that she
wouldn't see the Wayne for the rest of the day.
Of course that had been a futile hope.

Not minutes later after the bell rang, now situated in the class Brook had been complaining
about to her friends that very morning...Damian Wayne strolled into her Honors History
class, effectively ruining her mood once again. It hadn’t been more than forty minutes since
their last encounter and she’d already stumbled upon misfortune.

Mr. Travis had shown the same amount of care with this new student as he had with Brook.
Not a single introduction, just an order to take a vacant seat. It was then that the girl realized
the world was truly testing her resolve and willingness to change for the better. Seeing as
there were only vacant seats in the back of the class, both assassins sneered at each other
down when the Wayne was forced to take a seat near Brook on the only available desk beside
her own.

As soon as Damian had come into the room, the class had gone quiet, some had whispered
the boy's name in slight fear, others in awe. It was no wonder everyone already knew who he
was, word traveled fast around the halls of Midtown and his arrival had been the top story.

It seemed that the famous Stark-Wayne rivalry had also been a topic of discussion, because as
soon as Brook's peers saw the pair sitting a desk distance from one another, whispers of
possible conflict arose. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing how much his
presence bothered her, nor would she let the Wayne win by acknowledging him further than a
few glares shot his way.

Thankfully, they all had a quiz to take, one which Damian was excepted from and Brooklyn
couldn't have hated him more for it. Though she’d tried to ignore his presence since he took a
seat beside her, Brook couldn't seem to focus on the questions before her, she could
practically feel Damian's glare burning through the back of her skull.

Brooklyn considered using her pencil to perforate a hole on his forehead, but fought that
instinct to instead focus on the name on the next question of her quiz.

Steven Rogers.

He wouldn't want her to kill the guy, Grandpa Steve would likely say something stupidly kind
like 'His sitting in class can't physically harm anyone, maybe you should try and be nice'. Of
course she wouldn't attempt for any kind of friendship, but Brook tried to cling to those
soothing words to quell her anger, choosing to focus on WWII facts rather than the person
glaring her way an arm's distance away.

Steven Rogers was a hero, a man who embodied the goodness and valor Brook was trying
her hardest to work towards. She wanted to be a hero too, just like the Captain…just like her
dad.

By the time she turned in her work, Brooklyn was only able to keep her calm and unbothered
composure by repeating those words and staring at the poster of WWII Rogers by the white
board. Today, Steven Rogers would be her voice of reason, the angelic figure on her right
shoulder that would keep Brook from doing something that could get her expelled.
For all she knew, the Wayne could be here on a quest of vengeance for how their first and last
dance had ended, he could simply be here to get her expelled. If that was the case, Brooklyn
had worked too hard to be a good person lately, she was on her way to becoming a SHIELD
agent AND being worthy of her last name.

She could act civil...she should be able to reign in the anger...right?

Though it may have been too callous of her to show even the slightest sign of his presence
bothering her, Brook had already packed her bag and all but rushed out of the room the
second the bell rang. That didn’t stop Brook from noticing the wink Flash went her way, or
the lingering feel of Damian's gaze on her, both of which she ignored on her way out.

For once, Brooklyn didn’t bother with casual greetings or other bothersome efforts to keep
her reputation on a green light. Instead she practically sped to the locker rooms with her head
held high, didn't bother to remove that facade of strength until she'd finally dressed and taken
her seat on the cold gym bleachers with her friends.

Still that cursed name swirled in her mind along with flashes of their earlier interaction,
reminders that Damian Wayne had not only infiltrated her safe haven…but also that
removing him might prove more difficult than she’d wagered.

"Someone’s in an awful mood," MJ muttered after a few seconds of Brook’s silent seething,
even going as far as setting her book down.

"That's the understatement of the century. My new nemesis just transferred to my school,"
Brook sighed, gazing around the cluster of friends sitting around her with visible concern in
their eyes, probably why she added, "You should stay away from the grumpy one as much as
possible, trust me"

Ned didn’t hesitate to nod, eyes going wide like someone who’d seen war and had terrifying
flashes of it by mere mention.

So gently the group had to lean in to listen, Ned whispered, "I had my first class of the day
with him. I'm pretty sure Damian Wayne managed to make our teacher tremble with fear
within seconds of silent interaction. Once he got to talking… lets just say I think he knows
more math than the teacher, and said teacher is probably still crying in the teacher’s lounge"

Her friends shuddered at the words, but Brook did not. This was data on her enemy, a clear
account that made her realize Damian Wayne would not waste time and effort playing nice to
achieve whatever he’d come here for. Though a seemingly simple fact, any and all crumbs of
information she could gather on her enemy might be useful in this impromptu war.

That didn’t stop the faint sense of cold amusement that coursed through her veins. Brooklyn’s
friends didn't even know he was an assassin, and they along with the school’s population
were already afraid.

Rubbing her temples repeatedly, Brook couldn’t help but reason that if it weren't for the
uncanny appearance to his father, Brooklyn might've thought Damian WAS just an assassin
after her with no connection to the billionaire.
But he was most undoubtedly the son of Bruce, so could he be here on his father’s agenda
instead of as a mere assassin of the League following orders?

That feeling of that uncertainty was pushed to the back of her mind when she heard Ned’s
whispers vanish, replaced by a panicked yelp. Glancing down the bleachers, Brooklyn
seriously felt like bursting into flames when the very imbecile they were discussing waltzed
through the doors of the gym, looking displeased with the P.E. uniform that hugged his form
as if it had personally offended him.

It was as if the artificial warmth of the space immediately chilled a few degrees by his
presence alone. The array of students scattered around the bleachers hushed like flames
blown from a candle, and the once carefree and boisterous aura of the massive gym went still
with tension.

Seeing her nemesis in anything that wasn't a black ensemble, even after just two meetings
throughout their life, was just plain weird. She almost didn't recognize him in the navy blue
and yellow ensemble until those cold emerald eyes scanned the bleachers for a place to sit,
only to hone into her form.

As soon as they did, it was as if the world stood still. Though it was more than likely no one
else caught on to the subtleties of their micro-expressions, Brooklyn could tell he had debated
the intricacies of engaging in a battle with her just as she had in the three seconds that
transpired.

Both teens ultimately decided creating a very public scene was not worth the effort, finally
settling on the mortifying realization that once again, they’d be forced to share a classroom.

"Do you think Mr. Willson will give me detention if I just leave," Brook asked sarcastically
as she glowered down at her nemesis. She was still focused enough on her surroundings to
hear the very dry yet serious response from MJ as her friend warned, "He'd likely not notice,
though I wouldn't chance it. With Damian Wayne's presence, you and Harry have been put on
the spotlight once again. The children of the three most powerful men in the world suddenly
being in one school...it has everyone talking, even the teachers"

Brooklyn's glare down at Damian only became more prominent at the words. Even without
doing anything worthy of being classified as an attack, that Wayne was still somehow ruining
her life.

Just standing there was enough to make her skin crawl with killing intent she’d fought so
hard to push to the back burner all these weeks.

"Wow!" Ned exclaimed suddenly, wide eyed, as he unabashedly stared down at the new
student despite his previously claimed fear, "I wonder what his dad feeds him, look how
ripped he is!"

Despite her better judgment, Brooklyn did eye his toned legs now visible thanks to the shorts
he had likely fought tooth and nail not to wear. He didn't seem the type to appreciate any
shade of yellow. She quickly glanced at the rest of his visible olive-colored skin that their
previous encounters had not revealed, noting Damian's bare arms were nothing but pure
muscle as well.

He may be a little on the lanky side as all teens in their age group seemed to be in this stage
of awkward growth spurts and puberty induced changes, but Damian Wayne was clearly
different from most in the sense that it looked good on him. He didn’t seem like the type
whose voice would betray him with pitched voice changes, though Brook supposed that was
to be expected.

His muscles and hidden strength were to be expected, he was an assassin after all, plus she'd
felt one of those arms crushing her windpipe earlier. The visual elegance of his tanned skin
wasn’t just for show, but for a deadlier intent.

Damian Wayne didn’t seem to notice the very obvious admiration from the clueless girls
around him, or that of Ned. She figured the gawking and appreciation for his wasted good
looks was something he was used to. No, his eyes remained locked on hers until he settled in
an empty area of the bleachers below where Brook was seated.

Though the Wayne had clearly chosen the only lonesome space to be seated, students still
tried to approach him with the intention of befriending the son of Bruce Wayne. Brooklyn
could not hear the words being exchanged, but she was a witness to the fact that all that dared
to approach the teen were sent back the way they came almost immediately. Most that were
forced to do the walk of shame back to their original spots did so at a quickened pace, skin
pale and eyes wide at whatever had been said to them.

Good. It was best for their safety and sanity to stay away from Damian Wayne.

Beside her, Ned whispered, "Why do you hate him so much anyways? I thought you'd be
glad to have another teen like you…you know an heir to some crazy company like how Harry
is"

Brook finally removed her gaze from the assassin, then replied angrily, "The Wayne and I are
nothing alike. Plus, our families have been enemies for generations, and I can see now why
its prudent to keep that tradition alive"

Peter nervously clutched Brooklyn’s hand on her other side, rubbing soothing circles across
her palm. The young Stark tried not to let the action get to her head, it was something Peter
often did with his friends when they were upset or stressed...no big deal. She suspected it was
his immediate response to providing comfort to others, something Peter might even do
unconsciously at this point given how open he was with his generosity.

"Don't worry," Peter whispered with a beaming smile, "No matter the reason, we won't let
him bother you"

Sweet Peter Parker was actually offering to shield Brook from an assassin. The thought
brought a small close-lipped smile to her face if only because of the sheer absurdity of the
statement, one which Peter beamed at nonetheless. How he always managed to chase away
the darkness so easily...maybe she'd never figure it out.
Thankfully, it wasn’t long until Mr. Wilson came in fashionably late, as always. He briefly
acknowledged Damian's presence with a tired glance at the new student in his class, but said
nothing on the matter in favor of announcing today's activity with equal enthusiasm.

A volleyball game.

The class was rapidly split into four groups based on the rows they’d found themselves
seated on, which luckily ended up with Brook keeping all her friends by her side…and the
Wayne in an opposite team.

Good.

Working as a team was a growing experience for the ex-assassin, something she was getting
better at with every day spent training under the Avengers tutelage. But Brook would rather
have to team up with Spider-man than have to share breathing distance with a Wayne again.
Luckily, the universe had only been cruel in placing her and Damian in back to back classes,
but was wise enough to keep them in separate teams.

When the net was set up and the team orders were assigned, Brooklyn almost leaped up in
joy when she heard her group (named by the other eight students as The Bomb Sauce) was
going against Damian's (who his teammates had dubbed themselves as Superman's Servants).

Brook didn't give a damn what the teams were called or who was part of them. All Brook
knew was that she was going to crush the Wayne's team so hard he wouldn't have the
audacity to show his face at this school ever again.

In a situation such as this where neither could reach for a weapon and engage in the language
of violence they’d grown up under in their respective assassin guilds, she supposed this
would have to do as a way for them to channel the spirit of this unspoken war they found
themselves in.

From the other side of the net, Damian seemed to have come to the same conclusion,
shooting her a determined look Brook’s way—that likely looked as deadly as her own—as he
urged his teammates to get out of his way so he could take front and center.

Now, the Stark had never played volleyball in her life…in fact, she was starting to curse her
lack of childhood right about now for taking that advantage away from her. But the quick
run-down from the teacher was enough to get the gist of the rules. Her ultimate goal was now
to spike a ball at a certain someone, no matter what. She wanted him to feel the frustration of
not being able to keep the ball playing until his spirit and enraging pride were nothing more
than poor remnants on this shining floor.

Quickly turning to MJ and Ned who stood nervously by her side, Brook merely said, "I'm
taking a front position, stay away from Damian's throws, and get me the ball if it gets past
me"

Both friends exchanged a worried glance Brooklyn elected to ignore as she mirrored
Damian’s previous silent move to take front and center on her side of the court. If her
teammates had any intention of challenging the call, they never got to voice it seeing as she
sent them a quick glare that hopefully made her unwavering sentiments known.

The students behind her, on the other side of the net, and on the bleachers, all seemed
concerned too in a sense. They whispered of that famed Wayne and Stark rivalry in a way
that almost seemed like a primitive war cry, an echo of encouragement towards a legendary
battle which only seemed to serve as fuel for the girl.

As far as Brook was concerned, there was only her, the woven net, and the demon mirroring
her lazy stretches on the other side. It was a taunting of sorts, this casual warming up of their
muscles before the battle…yet to her it was only the thrill before the hunt.

With a bright smirk that was anything but gentle, the girl shouted across the court, "Ready for
a friendly match, shaytan?" lest he forget she spoke Arabic, or the fact that she knew he was
a League of Assassins demon.

Some students began whispering to themselves louder than before, but Brooklyn's eyes
remained locked on her one true enemy that the net between them barely masked. He was
obviously not amused by her remark, pushing tendrils of his onyx hair back with an arrogant
shake of his head.

From the other side of the woven rope, the demon smirked right back with equal distaste, and
taunted, "Are you, pauk?"

Spider.

He actually called her a spider, a taunt to her Red Room origins, in her mother tongue
nonetheless. It wasn't a complete insult to her by any means, even if he’d meant it as such.

Spiders could bite, had venom that could bring down even pretentious demons.

Ignoring the banter on the court as if it were invisible to him, Mr. Willson sat on his usual
worn chair on the sidelines, he got his sports magazine ready and lazily placed the whistle
hanging around his neck to his mouth.

Brook watched as Damian got into position, widening his stance and keeping his tanned arms
before him as if ready to react. She did the same, sending a quick puff of air to clear the stray
strands of auburn hair from her face.

Sure, Grandpa Steve would frown upon engaging in a battle of fisticuffs against the Wayne,
but by no means could a simple high school sport be considered a crime against her path
towards ‘herohood’. The thought alone had Brooklyn smirking again.

Once the whistle’s deafening sound rang across the spacious make-shift court, a stranger
from Brook's team served the ball. The sight of it flying across to the enemy territory above
her head was her signal that the battle had begun.

Of course, this was by no means a true test of the assassin's abilities, if anything, the net
between them was a restriction the teens both despised. But this was a start, the 'to be
continued' that hung in the air after their dance altercation back at the Metropolis Gala.

Though Brook had much more important matters weighing on her mind, like alien weapons
on the loose, her future role in Stark Industries, and her redemption with SHIELD...nothing
was more important in that instant than the coursing adrenaline making its way through her
body like lightning across the sky.

It might as well just be the two of them playing, adversaries equipped with skills of
magnitude no one in that gym could’ve imagined even in their wildest dreams.

Brown eyes met vibrant green ones with an intensity neither balked at, as if it were a mighty
force of equal potency that canceled the other out.

The long standing legacy of the Stark name on one side of the net, the ancient glory of the
Wayne family on the other. The extinct Red Room and League of Shadows, once
organizations of great magnitude and power, were represented as the true enemies they’d
once been only this time not as armies of spies and assassins, but as two adolescents in a
mundane school gym. Such a long and troubling history hung between the two teens like
invisible connecting tendrils of fate even past the confines of the worn net between them, for
these were legacies that transcended simple quarrels or distaste. Somehow against all odds,
Damian Wayne and Brooklyn Stark had managed to cross paths once more, and though each
was well aware of what they stood to lose for possibly escalating their hidden anger before
Midtown's students, there was no denying that the outcome of this battle would be one of
many future consequences regardless of the violence used.

As soon as Damian's fisted hands made contact with the ball, their generation officially and
undisputedly resumed the Stark-Wayne war.
 Damian vs Brooklyn

Peter Parker POV-

This was an awful idea...there was absolutely no way this would end up well, not for anyone.

Though Brook had mentioned her distaste for Damian Wayne earlier, he never imagined it to
be this bad until gym came along. He’d imagined Brooklyn might show the same intensity of
distaste she had with Spider-man, who was unfortunately his alter-ego so he knew what that
looked like quite well. But the sight before him was a raw hatred Peter had never seen anyone
display, friend or foe…were it not so terrifying, it might’ve been within his right mind to try
and figure out how two people who had only met four days ago could already despise one
another so strongly.

The two teens at the head of their teams gazed at each other as if they wanted to murder one
another on the spot. It was as if the air was thicker with that very hatred, like one could feel
the heat of it emanating across the room.

Brooklyn had that glint in her eyes again, the one that Spider-man had seen when she got too
lost in training, the same intensity as that first day of SHIELD training when Peter saw her
kill all those holograms without apology nor remorse.

Peter wished he could warn Damian Wayne to maybe not pick a fight with her of all people,
the new student had no clue the amount of damage Brook could induce if she really wanted
to. For all of Peter’s super strength and reflexes, even he wasn’t sure if he could stand in the
way of Brook’s wrath once it unleashed itself.

The new kid was picking a fight he could not win.

Though he’d never once been in the peculiar position of having a family enemy, Peter had a
good idea of how far those kinds of prejudices went, he’d learned plenty of it the past year.
Mr. Stark had mentioned multiple times (sometimes coerced into the conversation, other
times bridging it up at the most random of times) how much he disliked Mr. Wayne, so Peter
had known of the animosity between families would be there, but even the teen figured the
two adults would never engage in hatred induced conflict quite like this.

He hated to use the newer Star Wars films as reference to anything, Peter couldn't help but
think that the two teens down on the court, unbending foes willing death to the other by a
mere glance, were very much like Rey and Kylo en facing off in a battle of good and evil.

It was as if the two were of equal will and strength, on opposite sides of a war ready to tear
the other to shreds.

Maybe Peter was exaggerating a little bit, not about Brooklyn though, she could definitely
kill anyone in this room. But Damian Wayne had this...dark aura about him, like he was just
as deadly despite not having any of the assassin training.
To say it made Peter nervous would be an understatement, and it was perhaps the only thing
that had kept the masked hero from rushing to the court to put a stop to this game. It was the
only thing keeping his phone inside his pocket despite its constant strings of messages from
Mr. Stark imploring Peter to keep his daughter away from the new student until the man
figured out what was going on.

His finger lingered on the emergency call button regardless.

From his place sitting out the game on the bleachers, Peter beheld in a mystified manner as
the Wayne hit the descending ball upwards, high into the air, then propelled himself off the
ground to spike it down with olympic-like expertise. Brooklyn did not appear alarmed like
her teammates were by the incredible speed of the descending ball, she merely tracked its
movement while casually placing her necklace inside her shirt, got a running start…and hit
that volleyball with equal vigor.

All the students on the court hung back from the two, watching as the Wayne and Stark
caught each ball with ease, unwilling to let any attack get past them, then throwing it back at
a speed that must've caused their hands and wrists to ache. Peter could not blame them. He
figured neither of the heirs would take kindly to being helped at the moment.

Shooting a worried look towards Ned and MJ who lingered on the outskirts of the court, his
two friends could only shrug nervously just as Brook dove to the ground before them to catch
a stray ball that could’ve taken Ned’s head off.

The first round only stopped when the volley managed to hit Brooklyn's shoulder with
enough force that she actually fell to the ground clutching her arm slightly. Peter was already
getting ready to push past the rest of the gasping students standing around him, intent on
rushing to the court and see if Brook needed to be taken to the nurse's office…but the Stark
merely smirked, rolling her arm a few times before demanding someone from the Wayne's
team lingering on the outskirts give him the ball so the next round could start.

It was almost as if the only thing she found cumbersome was the loss of a point rather than
the bruise that would most definitely blossom across her fair skin. Not that Peter was
expecting someone like Brooklyn Stark to cry or pout, not when she’d withstood the electric
shocks from SHIELD simulations and barely reacted to getting shot by an alien weapon that
one time.

He hadn’t expected the glee though, that glimmer of challenge that made Peter wonder if the
Red Room had seen it fit to destroy nociceptors in the bodies of their Widows to prevent the
feeling of pain all together.

Flash eventually did heed Brook’s request, albeit nervously, while staring at Damian with a
mix of fear and admiration. The Wayne on the other hand didn’t seem to notice it was Flash
that handed him the stray volley, those emerald eyes were locked on Brook and Book only.

Their teacher only took his gaze away from the magazine before him when he noticed the
sound of the ball had stopped. If he noticed all but two students remained in the court bounds,
Mr. Wilson did not mention it. He merely blew his whistle, demanding the next round to start
even when members of Brook's team were silently trying to argue a foul had taken place.
Mr. Wilson was a nice man, but one who should not be overseeing this game so loosely. The
fact that this so-called Damian Wayne was good at volleyball was terrifying, especially when
Brook's determined spirit came alive when faced with worthy adversaries (something Peter
had learned during SHIELD training).

Had it been up to Peter, he would've stopped the game entirely. Of course that did not happen.

The rounds continued until both teams elected to sit on the sides of the court, giving up on
the prospect of playing and instead being content with keeping score and fetching the stray
ball when needed, watching their team members battle it out for them.

Peter was the only one biting his nails and constantly debating going back to the locker
rooms to call Mr. Stark. But what would he do? See how far this conflict had gone and
deciding to end the unwavering rivalry of generations he was also a part of...not likely. If
anything, Peter feared Mr. Stark would remove Brook from the school altogether for her
safety, and selfishly, the masked hero didn’t want that.

But there was just no end to this game.

Brooklyn had managed to spike the ball on Damian's head, and next round, he'd hit the ball
far enough that the girl couldn't reach it in time. When one earned a point, the other earned
the next like clockwork. Clever tricks and impressive moves grew more and more creative as
the game progressed, but both seemed livid at this point, even when their teams and the
others seated on the bleachers began cheering and throwing commentary around as if this
were nothing more than harmless amusement.

Even when the bruise count grew, Mr. Wilson did not lift his head up from the pages of his
magazine again.

By round six, both teams tied three to three, and everyone around him was having the time of
their lives. As if they’d gotten used to the terrifying display.

"For all her talk about never having played before, Brook is very good at volleyball," Ned
commented from his place on the floor before Peter, "that new kid is good too!"

Looking to make sure MJ was still busy reading, Peter quickly whispered to Ned, "Did you
forget what I told you about Brooklyn? If she gets too riled up, she could kill him!"

Ned turned back, eyes wide, "You really think she'd do that?"

Honestly, Peter wasn't sure. When it came to being around the Avengers or being with her
friends, Brooklyn was kind and maybe even a bit dorky as she tried to figure out the way
most mundane things worked. Be it emotions she’d never experienced or things she’d missed
out on in her youth, she approached most situations with a determined (yet surprisingly
adorable) energy.

But Peter knew how Brooklyn was around those she considered her enemies, because Spider-
man was one of them. With those people, Brook was almost unhinged, dangerous, maybe
even a bit more snarky than usual.
It was without a doubt that Peter was certain Damian Wayne was most definitely not a friend
in her books, not when her eyes seemed to light up with malice and excitement as she
delivered the winning spike of a round.

The two players had been dancing around each other's moves for minutes, only for the
victory to shift Brooklyns way at last. Two rounds won back to back, even if both teams were
still debating if the ball had landed within the confines by mere centimeters…the only thing
that seemed to matter to the two teens glaring at one another, panting from their respective
places before the net, was that the ball had gotten past Damian’s defenses.

He had a feeling neither teen cared much for out of bounds, but rather missed opportunities to
hit the enemy.

The gym still erupted into cheers, even when there was only one class inside, it was loud
enough as if this were a school Pep Rally with all students in attendance. Maybe that was just
his enhanced hearing, but the teen was almost certain it wasn't. Ned and Peter were the only
ones that remained seated, eyes wide, nerves rising when they realized they were the only
two people in this entire school, maybe even all of Queens, that knew the truth.

Thankfully, before another match could start, Mr. Wilson finally called for the other two
assembled teams to have a go at it. Neither of the retreating teams seemed to mind that they
hadn't played in the slightest, they were actually the ones crowding around their key players
with endless strings of praises.

Damian Wayne shoved his own team members away with a mere look of raging fury.

When a tired Brook made it to the bleacher space next to Peter, he quickly moved to inspect
the places the volleyball had hit her skin. Thankfully, there was nothing broken or severely
injured, at least by the basic skills his aunt had taught him.

"Did you guys see that?" Brooklyn said, still too caught up with her glory to even notice
Peter was touching her arm trying to find fractures or sprains, "I destroyed him!"

Ned, took up the seat next to Brook, patting her on the back as he masked his worry with a
beaming smile.

"Did you guys play together as kids or something? That was wild! It was as if you both knew
what the other was thinking most of the time!" Ned said, clearly already forgetting the
imminent danger Damian Wayne had just been in.

On the other side of the bleachers, Damian seemed to brush off the stray praise from his
peers, sitting as far away from the crowd as possible while glaring down at Brook across the
court. Never mind that Brooklyn was too busy listening to Ned's epic recollection of the
matches to even notice his stare.

Peter did notice, and the stare alone had the hairs in the masked hero’s arms standing on their
own. He looked...just as deadly as Brooklyn did when she's in killing mode. That 'killing
mode' was partially why Peter had dared to touch Brook earlier. It wasn’t just to check on her
injuries, but also to make sure she wouldn't turn that energy on anyone else.
He’d seen how jittery she got after a training session, how those instincts to fight remained
for seconds after. Mr. Barton had learned that the hard way long ago when Brook flipped him
on his back when he tried to pat her arm in a congratulatory manner after a spar.

Thankfully, Brooklyn hadn’t reacted badly today, but what about the boy on the other side of
the gym? He certainly didn’t look as if he took that loss well, and if he’d been able to keep up
with Brook, then perhaps he wasn’t as weak as Peter had feared him to be.

Maybe it was a Gotham thing?

"Are you alright?" Peter still asked, turning away from the Wayne to behold Brooklyn's sour
smile. She’d been elated earlier, what had changed?

"I could've done better. If Mr. Wilson had not stopped the game, the Wayne could've
won...that shouldn't be possible" she said, fisting her hands on her lap. He wondered if
perhaps she’d known that all this time but had kept a smile on for the sake of the crowds until
the next game began.

Peter knew without a doubt that the 'dark shadow' of her assassin tendencies was returning at
the mere thought of that failure, so he took her hands in his, pulling them closer to his chest.

Brooklyn stopped her own movements, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Trusting that Brooklyn would not flinch away from him the way she did with Spider-man, he
tried his best to smile past his concern.

"That was really scary, I was worried about you" he admitted softly, trying to get her to
understand without saying it outright that she'd been slipping. Spider-man would know that
she was…but his civilian self would not, so his warning had to be delivered differently.

Peter noticed the way her fair cheeks turned a little pink, probably from embarrassment at
figuring out what she'd done. Slowly, that building intensity in her brown orbs dimmed.

Still, Peter didn't want her to feel bad at all, so he added, "You did a really good job though,
maybe you should consider joining the school team. Think of all the scholarships you could
get"

Brook nodded, gently taking her hands back from his with a small smile that didn’t quite
meet her eyes.

"At least I have something to brag about to my dad today," Brooklyn mused, casting a quick
glance towards the other bleachers where Damian Wayne was still glaring her way with the
intensity of a thousand suns. He sat perfectly straight, not a hair out of place despite the
olympic effort he’d displayed, eternally unamused by those around him and the game
happening down below.

His gaze only seemed to intensify with hers. They reminded Peter of a Newton's pendulum,
each action earning a reaction, conservation of energy and momentum for the hatred they
harbored.
"Oh yes, perhaps it is time I deal with this the way my dad prefers," Brook said jokingly,
earning an eyebrow raise from Ned and a dreaded feeling from Peter. He knew Mr. Stark all
too well to realize something like that might not be a good idea.

His suspicions only solidified when Brooklyn shot a wink Damian's way and a red-lipped
smile that just dared him to do something about it. It was like the game they’d engaged in had
not been enough to quell the need for quarreling. Thankfully, the new kid could do nothing
about it for the rest of class since their teams were not called to play again.

Maybe Mr. Wilson had been paying attention, or maybe he was just too lazy to blow his
whistle for a team change, either way Peter was grateful once the time to go back to the
locker room came about. In fact, he almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Brook and
MJ disappear after class without anyone chasing them for a confrontation.

In the men's locker room (an ironic name considering they were all teens and most definitely
not worth the title considering the silly games that took place there), Peter glanced down the
row of nearby lockers to see Damian giving everyone the cold shoulder.

Of course, some kids did not seem to accept that, not in the testosterone filled room where
every guy had something to prove. A cluster of guys from the baseball team seemed
particularly offended when Damian ignored their praises over the game.

Peter had been on the wrong side of interactions between those guys enough times to predict
what was going to happen. The new kid would be shoved, mocked, kicked, then left to stew
in his humiliation. They were all taller than most, certainly stronger given how rigorously
they were trained by the coach, yet despite being only an inch shorter…Damian didn't look it.

One of them, James Cole, was the leader for this particular witch hunt. He reached angrily
into the Wayne's locker, taking out the black turtle neck within and throwing it on the wet
tiled floors of the showers. The splashing sound of which caught the attention of all the guys
in the room.

"You think you're so high and mighty, new kid?" James asked, getting closer to Damian until
they were practically face to face, "I don't think so. This isn't Gotham, we won't treat you like
royalty here"

Peter was debating stepping forward and taking the beating in Damian's stead when the new
kid smirked. Actually smirked.

His 'Peter tingle' as Aunt May liked to call it alerted Peter of the danger before his own eyes
could. Only he'd assumed it was because the Wayne needed help, he never would've expected
that his instincts were actually warning him about the victim of this altercation...

In a matter of seconds, Damian moved so quickly even Peter had trouble understanding what
was going on until James was pinned against the dirty lockers, nose painfully against the
small holes at the top.

The baseball player's arms were pinned behind his back in a position that looked anything but
comfortable, and his eyes were already glistening with tears by whatever strain that caused.
Peter was likely the only one who could see the waterworks past the mop of silver-dyed hair
to notice from that distance.

"Perhaps it's time someone showed you who your superiors are," Damian said, just loud
enough for Peter to catch with his enhanced hearing, "If you or any of your colleagues ever
bother me, I'll break both your arms, and if you're persistent...your legs will be next. We’ll
see how well the school’s team does with all its team as a heap of wiggling torsos swaying
like worms on the floor without any functioning limbs"

Surprisingly, James was released, and the teen dropped to the cold floor instantly. His friends
nervously went to retrieve him while Damian Wayne regally strolled over to inspect his
ruined sweater. Seeing its deplorable wet state, he quickly rinsed the water out as best he
could and shoved it inside his bag.

While everyone in the locker room went back to their business (albeit already gossiping
amongst one another), Peter noticed all stares towards the black-haired teen were gone, save
for him and Ned who seemed to be the only ones brave enough to look.

As the room dressed in hushed whispers and mild jokes, Spider-man noticed the teen pull out
a red flannel with a roll of his eyes. Peter had been about to go offer his jacket, but it seemed
the new kid was well prepared. It was oddly impressive.

"That was scary," Ned whispered beside Peter, voice shaking while putting on his own jacket
in a rush before adding, "but you know what that reminded me of, that fight Brook had on her
first day...only the opposite of it if you think about it"

Brook had fought to defend Peter that day, Damian had fought for himself today.

One had not touched her opponents, while the boy had made his physical abilities very clear.

Both had made a statement on their first day, both had won their altercations against the
'bullies' of the school. Ironically, they both ended up shoving others into lockers. Maybe that
was some sort of first day of school tradition now.

Sneaking another glance down the row of lockers, Peter's improved eyesight caught onto the
rippling muscles Damian had…and the small scars along his body a teenager should not
possess. The Wayne placed his black shirt on quickly enough that Peter couldn't get a better
look, but he worried for the boy nonetheless.

There had been too many fading and small wounds for it to be from a simple accident.

How many fights had he been in? It occurred to him that Damian was from another school,
no one knew what kind of guy. Peter feared he was a bully back in Gotham, someone who
could take a hit and dish it right back for his own needs and amusement. He’d already picked
a fight with Brooklyn and another with the baseball team…as if it was instinct to solve
anything with violence.

Maybe that's just the way everyone from Gotham had to be in order to survive it's dangerous
streets, even the sons of wealthy men had likely learned that lesson at some point. Or maybe
that wealth was what caused the injuries, Harry had often told Peter that kidnappings for
ransom were common in high society.

"I think I'm starting to realize what Harry meant about Damian Wayne being known for his
terrifying attitude," Peter whispered back, quickly shuffling into his clothes as fast as he
could despite having well over ten minutes left. He couldn't help it, he was a shy boy, and
there was also no way he could explain the array of muscles on his body from the eyes of his
peers.

Once a symphony of slammed lockers resonated along the room and backpacks were
obtained, the bell rang across the space, ushering everyone out the lockers quickly for the
fourth class of the day.

Peter and Ned made it back to the main building as quickly as they could to shy away from
the cold. Even when it wouldn't bother Spider-man at all, it was mostly for Ned's benefit.

They both beheld as Damian Wayne walked past them through a sea of parting students. He
looked back once, staring right at the two teens with a displeased look, no doubt because they
were Brooklyn's friends.

Beside him, Ned whispered, "At least we know you can take him in a fight, but I'm not sure I
ever want to be around that boy for longer than a few seconds"

Peter knew what he meant, but he couldn't help but think there was more going on with the
new kid than others were willing to see. He kept the knowledge of the muscled body filled
with scars to himself, even when Damian was not the nicest person in the world, Peter's hero
tendencies couldn't help but worry for him all the same.

Brooklyn POV-

After a soothing talk with MJ spent conversing not about gym class but rather her friend’s
latest book, Brooklyn stepped into Calculus with a relaxed state of mind.

P.E. had been too much for her to handle at once (all thanks to that Wayne) and just like the
last time the two had crossed paths, a massive array of emotions had taken hold of her mind.
The walk had helped though, it felt like a spark of normalcy from the days before the Wayne
had transferred to her school.

As the girl took a seat at her usual table, she couldn't help but note the way Mr. Abercorn was
already getting ready for another day of yelling and humiliating students with a sense of
nostalgia.

Not that he'd pick on her anymore, the math teacher had learned his lesson after the day she’d
humiliated him.

As perhaps a small crack in that bubble of deceit that nothing was amiss or changed, Brook
was far too aware of the fact that her usual table partner was gone due to the flu (thanks to the
gossip around the classroom). She was not one for praying, but at that moment Brook knew
she would not be able to handle three classes back to back with the Wayne, so she sent what
one might consider a more of threat rather than a plea to whatever higher being existed out
there. Her request was simple, that Damian Wayne would not show up in this class.

Luckily, by the time the bell rang, there was no sign of the moody teen, and Brooklyn all but
sagged against her seat with a small grin…that is until the door burst open as soon as the
lesson on parametrically defined functions began.

Her nerves went into overdrive, and as if by instinct alone her face was already forming into
a deadly glare, only to see it was not the demon who walked in. It was his companion, the
other new student everyone was raving about in the halls in a much more enthusiastic
manner.

Brook had been too focused on any Damian related gossip to bother keeping an eye out on
the other Wayne. Maybe it was foolish to be so careless about another potential threat, but
she had yet to cross paths with the stranger…and the Wayne seemed to be taking up most of
her thoughts since he’d shown up on her turf. Regardless, Brooklyn had not been stupid
enough to not have heard many girls comment on the stranger’s good looks, bright attitude,
and beautiful bright blue eyes.

She’d figured if looks and kindness were all people were talking about, then maybe he wasn’t
as much a danger as her nemesis. It would seem that she’d get the chance to do a little
investigating of her own after all, only with the eyes of someone who could actually look past
physical attributes. A spy’s verdict.

The boy in question rushed into the classroom clutching a paper in hand. When he made his
way over to the teacher, the stranger displayed a bright and beaming smile, stretching out a
hand as he introduced himself, "Sorry I'm late, sir…I got lost in the halls. I'm the new kid,
Jon"

The teacher did not look amused, didn't even shake the outstretched hand.

While the girls at the front of the classroom began fawning unabashedly, Brook cursed them
for their wasted closer distance to the enemy. From her view point, she could only gather the
most basic of traits. He was tall, more than most boys their age, but not anything abnormal
that could easily get him drafted to a college-league basketball team. Though his skin was
fair and well cared for, his clothes were not as expensively made as those Damian Wayne
bradished.

Yet the black hair and blue eyes were relatively close to the physical attributes of Mr. Wayne
and his two eldest sons. It only added to her guess that this kid was a Wayne Harry may have
forgotten to mention.

"This is your first day, so I'll allow the tardiness. On future days, you will find I won't be so
lenient and you'll end up with points off your next exam," Mr. Abercorn said. As expected,
even the new kinds would find no kindness from him.

Jon took his hand back, placing it nervously on his neck as he handed over his slip for a
signature. Despite the reprimand, the stranger did not seem to mind it too much, his smile
only wavered minutely.

The teacher quickly sent him to take the only empty seat in the class, clearly intent on not
wasting any more precious time, but the seat the teacher pointed at just so happened to be the
empty spot by Brook's side.

"Sit next to Miss Stark for now. Once Mr. Drew comes back we'll pull up a chair for you on
that desk" the teacher said, almost sending Brook spiraling into another unpleasant mood.
Observing a target worked best with only mild closeness, if Jon sat next to her, it wouldn't be
as easy to keep her silent judgment to herself.

Kak nazoylivo. How bothersome.

To her surprise, when the new kid caught sight of her he actually smiled, an action she did
not expect out of a Wayne. His blue eyes sparkled against the light of the room as he
practically skipped over to his new seat.

Mr. Abercorn did not waste any more time on pleasantries and turned to the board, writing
away as he shouted a vague explanation of what he was working out. Any sane person would
know the man hated and would not repeat himself, hence why the array of hand-cramps in
this class was so high (borderline tortuous). Brook had every intention to resign herself to the
fate she’d been handed, conducting her observations some other time…only her new seat
partner had other ideas.

Brooklyn had been ready to begin her boring note taking process, sure the Wayne beside her
would ignore her presence with the same silent dislike the other of his kind had treated her
with, but then the boy gently tapped her shoulder.

"Hi!" he whispered as he leaned forward on the black marble table almost as if he were
crouching his head to be at eye level with her, "It's nice to meet you, seat partner!"

Brooklyn fought the urge to roll her eyes even if her mind was already swirling with a
thousand theories that had nothing to do with the contents on the board. Was this a different
strategy to get under her skin? Pretending to be kind and friendly to fulfill some agenda? If
that was the case, should she return the odd behavior with silence? It would be the smart
thing to do, something any spy would’ve done not just to gather intel, but to avoid giving any
away.

Still, the behavior was so at odds with Damian Wayne’s treatment that Brook couldn't help
but be a tad curious.

"Surely you must know who I am?" she whispered back, no longer bothering with paying
attention to the lesson she’d mastered in her youth anyways. Brooklyn set down her pen and
only kept the notebook before her open for appearances, but her attention shifted slightly over
to the boy beside her, whose movie-star smile had not dimmed in the slightest.

Jon nodded, "You're Brooklyn Stark, who doesn't know who you are at this point? That and
Damian has been talking a lot about you recently"
He had? Brooklyn obviously knew many people at school spoke of her in hushed whispers,
and that with media coverage, many strangers out in the world probably mentioned her in
conversation. There was something about knowing Damian Wayne spoke of her a lot that
threw her off guard, more so that the stranger beside her had admitted to it.

"All bad things I assume," she whispered back, unsure why she was humoring a conversation
with this guy in the first place.

It was the curiosity, of course. Curiosity killed the cat, and Brooklyn could only hope that
being a spider somehow exempted her from the usual saying.

"Don't worry about Damian, he just takes a while to warm up to people…a long while," the
new kid replied, taking one of her hands in his own so he could shake it. But as soon as their
skin met, Brooklyn retracted her hand faster than a snake's strike.

Brook whispered back a bit harshly, "I guess I do too, but I'm especially not keen on shaking
hands with a Wayne"

Some of the kids around them turned to face their table in the back at the silent outburst, eyes
curious before the teacher's booming voice caught their attention and they decided they
couldn't risk the absence of any information for simple gossip.

She'd expected Jon to say something equally as harsh right back, but the boy just leaned his
head on the desk and smiled up at her.

"Well, I'm not a Wayne, so I guess we're ok, right?"

What!?

He wasn't one of them? Since Bruce Wayne had so many adopted children, Brook just
assumed that was the case with this kid since he seemed to know Damian so well. How that
changed things, Brooklyn wasn’t entirely sure. Logically, it didn’t, Jon was still allies with
Damian which would make him one just as much.

"Really? Is that supposed to be a joke," she whispered back, watching as her seatmate stifled
a genuine smile.

"My name is Jon Kent actually, but Bruce Wayne is my godfather. Does that mean I get some
slack from the family hatred?" he asked, eyes wide and hopeful, soft lips forming into an
innocent pout that she suspected was genuine rather than mocking.

Brooklyn couldn't figure out how someone as cold as Mr. Wayne could even consider being
someone's godparent, but maybe he too had been charmed by Jon's bright personality. By
instincts alone she still mentally marked Jon Kent as a possible weakness of Mr. Wayne…just
in case.

In a way she hated to admit, Jon reminded Brooklyn of Peter, maybe even Harry. He was the
kind of stranger Brook had decided to give a shot to when it came to getting close to people,
and if she'd known him apart from the Wayne, she might've even considered him someone to
talk to.

There was no malice in his blue orbs, no ulterior motive to his kindness…but he was friends
with the enemy, somehow close enough to the Waynes that he too had moved here with one
of them. Brooklyn may have chosen not to answer the teen’s inquiry, but that confusion had
swirled restlessly in her mind for the rest of the class as the two remained quietly paying
attention to the lesson.

Jon hadn’t pressed for an answer, likely because he was preoccupied receiving folded notes
from nearby girls, all of which he received with a shy smile yet did not linger on with the
same flirtatious behavior Harry might’ve approached. Not once was he cold or rude to
anyone in the room, not even their cruel teacher when he called upon Jon unexpectedly.

Jon had answered confidently and correctly regardless, even went as far as thanking the
teacher for picking on him. It had made Brook wonder if the overly bright attitude was fake,
surely it had to be, but every time she’d snuck a glance at Jon he was an open book. The
genuineness of his emotions could not be questioned.

Though she did not see Jon or Damian in her next class, she was still followed by the
puzzlement of how one teen had bid her farewell with the promise of death, while the other
had shot her a bright smile and wishes to see her soon (an action that had earned Brook some
nasty glares from the girls in the calc class). Somehow, the fact that the new boy already
considered her a close acquaintance without her knowing anything about him made her
nervous too.

Lest to say, Brooklyn didn't get much done in Engineering with all these thoughts about the
new students clouding her mind, most of her time was spent trying to work out if Jon was
perhaps an assassin from the League (highly unlikely), or what he'd mean with 'Damian has
been talking about you a lot recently'. She figured said talks likely involved many plans to
murder her in her sleep.

By lunch time, Brooklyn was in a confused daze as she lined up for food, making sure to take
enough for her and Peter since she'd noticed he forgot his own lunch at home again.

It would be a nice surprise for him, something kind from one friend to another, right? That's
what normal teenagers did, and right now with a League of Assassin’s member in her midsts,
being normal had just become a high priority. She had a lot to prove after he’d indirectly
called her a murdered this morning.

When Tanya and MJ joined Brook at the end of the line, they had certainly praised her for her
kindness towards Peter. The three made their way to the usual table, busy getting lost in a
conversation about Decathlon practice after school when she spotted Ned, Peter, and Harry
leafing through lego instructions unabashedly.

Brook couldn't help the smile that adorned her face as she settled down before them, sliding a
water bottle, cookie, and two turkey sandwiches Peter's way.

When he beheld the food, his eyes went wide.

"You didn't think I would let you starve, right Parker?" she joked, grabbing her fries and
placing them in the middle of the table as custom by now. The group always shared her fries
and Harry's M&M's, it was a sacred tradition that had begun without her realizing it until
weeks ago, a welcome gesture.

"That doesn't mean you had to buy me all of this," Peter said, but smiled brightly and added,
"Thanks anyways! We should go to Delmar's after school before we go study at your place,
my treat this time"

Right.

For the first time in her life, Brooklyn would be spending a whole afternoon with Peter in her
house. They'd agreed on it during the walk to school so they could prepare for their upcoming
Spanish exam.

Something about being alone with Peter without Aunt May or her friends managed to make
Brooklyn's mind spin in a completely different way than the array of emotions that had
clouded her mind most of the day.

"Ok," Brook replied, trying not to sound pathetic as she added, "Aunt May said it was ok?"

Peter nodded, "I always go out with friends, she doesn't mind"

Harry frowned, "You two and your advanced Spanish course, making the rest of us look bad"

The table burst into laughter, a joyous sound that quelled all unrest in her mind, until they
noticed the typical noise died down from the crowd behind them. The lunch hall was back to
its whispering tones, something that reminded her too much of what had occurred this
morning at the front of the school.

When Brooklyn turned around, she realized her assumption had been more correct than she
would’ve liked. Standing at the end of the lunch line, the demon and Jon were looking around
for a table to sit at. Much like on Brook's first day of school, the pair realized all tables had
been claimed to their full capacity...all but the table at the end of the room.

In her time at Midtown, the young Stark learned that before her arrival, her table was dubbed
as the designated area for the nerds among nerds. The outcasts. Peter and Ned never once
minded that title, especially when MJ came along to join in.

With Tanya, Brook and Harry thrown into the mix, the identity of the table was not as easily
labeled now. It was now a melting pot of school cliques, one had no foreseeable label her
classmates could use. People tended to glance at it often but no one ever dared to sit in the
empty table space beside the teens, not when they had no idea where it was they were
actually sitting at.

That was until today.

Jon Kent, the chipper boy from Calculus, practically dragged the Wayne over to Brook's
secluded side of the room. As if they were old acquaintances, he waved merrily to the
members of the table (mostly Brook and Harry, whom he had already met in a class).

Maybe it was an instinctual feeling considering they knew Damian’s personality better than
most, but both Harry and Brooklyn got up from their seats at the nearing duo, standing side
by side in front of their friends as they faced the incoming Damian Wayne.

The silence in the room grew, even the clattering spoons at the lunch line were set down.

She supposed as far as confrontations went, having the three children who were heirs to the
most influential companies in the world was likely an amusing and terrifying sight.

The demon stood up straighter before them, and Brook was only momentarily distracted as to
why he was wearing a flannel until she realized it shouldn't matter all that much. No matter
what he wore, he was still the enemy. That thought only solidified when his cold gaze moved
between Harry and her with a perfectly raised brow. Like he was assessing the enemy.

"Damian, it's...an unexpected surprise to see you again. Before the gala this weekend, the last
time we saw one another was the event at Palm Springs, right? That was fun," Harry said, for
once in his life standing stiffly without a smirk in sight.

That did manage to shock Brooklyn a great deal, seeing her friend be so serious, but she
fought to keep her poker face on as best she could. Maybe Harry didn’t have a family quarrel
to content with, but his distaste for Damian had always been apparent, and seeing as the two
were actually a part of high society before Brook had even accepted her true last name, she
figured there was a lot of conflict between them.

"Osborn," Damian replied indifferently, "I was not aware you had the mental capacity to get
into this school, a part of me can't help but wonder if you truly got in by academic merit at
all"

That urge to kill Damian Wayne was coming back like a creeping beast exiting its cave,
barely held back by the fact that her friend group was standing behind her. This was about
protecting them, keeping the Wayne as far from them as possible, not her own personal
agenda.

In seconds, she forcibly got a lid on her rampant emotions, keeping them in check for the
sake of those around her. At least doing that was becoming easier since she'd joined SHIELD.
All that training and constant ‘hero’ speeches from Grandpa Steve were paying off.

After the chaos of the volleyball game though, Brooklyn had wondered how her dad could
deal with Bruce Wayne so often, how he could keep himself from killing the Wayne at all
times. Turned out, their one interaction from the gala held all the answers. It didn't take a
genius to notice Tony Stark hid behind jokes and sarcasm, he'd brushed off Bruce's comments
with witty comebacks a few days ago.

Brook found this to be a very effective way to deal with the teen before her. Because how
could one keep their indifferent mask on when pride was on the line? Of course this could
backfire later, but messing with Damian was starting to seem like a very fun hobby, if not a
way to take out her frustrations without the use of her fists.
"C'mon Dami, don't be so irrational. If the school accepted bribes of any kind, you would've
probably used that to your advantage by now" Brook said, watching with a pleased smile
when Damian began clutching his food tray to death.

"You dare address me so crudely, Stark?"

The young Stark faked a gasp, placing a hand atop her soft sweater where her heart lay
beneath.

"Well, my dad calls yours Brucy. I thought I should keep the tradition alive and come up with
a similar nickname for you, aside from shaytan, of course. That you will always be, but I
figured it could be reserved for special occasions" she replied confidently, almost mentally
praising herself for playing the new game so well. Maybe she was more like her dad than
she’d realized, just as Happy and Pepper had always stated.

Damian Wayne would always be a demon, she'd make sure he'd never forget it, but it was
rather amusing seeing his contorted face just now at the mention of the subtle insult to his
dark roots.

Harry subtly leaned close to her ear, asking what a shaytan even meant, but she was too
focused on her enemy to bother replying. Not that she could explain the meaning properly
without admitting to the assassin background that hid behind those cold emerald eyes. Maybe
it would be a little secret that would stay between enemies after all.

Taking a few steps closer to her, Damian stared her down with all the intimidation tactics he
possessed. Unfortunately for him, she'd aced that part of her training back in the Red Room,
so she dished it right back with equal and unwavering force.

A monster couldn't frighten another monster after all.

Neither backed down until Brook felt Harry and Peter pulling her back, and once she snapped
out of her trance, she saw Jon doing the same with Damian. Looking around the cafeteria,
Brook realized she'd caught the attention of everyone in the room, including the kind lunch
ladies. The two had slowly neared one another without their realizing, likely why their allies
saw it fit to stop them before a fight ensued.

Remembering what game she was playing and why it was worth it to do so, Brooklyn sent a
wink the demon's way before letting her friends guide her back to their end of the large table.

Without another word, Jon did the same for his companion on the other side. Neither her or
Harry would waste energy asking Damian to move when they knew no other tables were
available…but that didn’t mean they’d have to acknowledge one another. Her hope was that
if the two strangers had to stay at this school, they’d find a click to join, soon leaving this
table be as it was.

It was the only thing keeping her from launching herself to the other end to tackle the Wayne
into a fight that would get her expelled for sure.
It was then, that for the first time in Midtown High history, one of the large tables in the
lunch hall belonged to two different groups. One side to Brook's, and the other to Damian's.

At last, there was a way to label it properly, the rich kids table. One separated by two rival
groups of equal strength and influence. Brook didn't bother correcting the hushed whispers of
the hall to point out the conflict only rested between Damian and her...maybe even Harry.

Though Flash had tried to head over to Damian's side to befriend him, it seemed that her
Decathlon teammate ended up dodging a bullet when the demon rejected his offer for
friendship. No one else tried to join the group of two since, even where there were plenty of
people who seemed to crave Jon's company.

Brooklyn managed to keep her gaze away from the two new students, focusing on her friends'
conversations about their plans for the week. And, as if some superior entity was truly
listening to her ‘prayers’, Brook only caught sight of Damian in the halls for the rest of the
school day.

Unfortunately, because he and Jon were new students as well, their lockers were very close to
hers, most of those hall interactions ended up with glares and slamming of lockers...not too
bad all things considered.

It was actually Jon whom she saw again when he showed up to her last class of the day, once
again becoming her seat partner. When it came time to do group review in Spanish, Jon had
invited himself to work with her and Peter.

Peter hadn't minded of course, he was kind to the Kent boy from the beginning, even going as
far as to let the new kid see his notes for the class. Brooklyn too lent Jon her notes for
Calculus, only because being around Peter seemed to entice her to do good deeds.

Jon had been thankful of course, especially when Peter offered to help in any subject should
he struggle with the new transition of schools. Another expected kind gesture.

All of these conversations had been exchanged in Spanish, the only language in that
classroom as far as the teacher was concerned. Surprisingly, Jon Kent could keep up quite
well, he'd even managed to do his part for the group assignment flawlessly. Clearly, he had a
well earned spot in the high level class, which meant Jon wasn’t coincidentally in it to spy on
her.

After the lesson was over, once Peter and Brook had gathered their things, Jon eagerly joined
them out the door as he waved at the brave girls who yelled out enthusiastic farewells for
him. It would seem that Harry had some competition for the greatest bachelor in school
now...something she figured her mischievous friend would eagerly take on as a challenge.

"My first day of school wasn't bad at all, I think I'm gonna like Midtown!" Jon said, earning a
sweet smile from Peter, who unlike the new kid, struggled a bit with the pile of books
snuggled into his arms.

"I'm glad you like it here, the school has always been good at making new students feel
welcome. Speaking of, Is someone gonna pick you up today or did your family not move to
Queens?" Pete asked.

Brooklyn, who was walking between the two boys as they made their way down to the first
floor to their lockers, figured Peter was ready to offer assistance to the new kid outside of
school. An admirable trait, but one Brook was not sure how to feel about considering she still
wasn’t willing to trust Jon. Her only distraction from that thought was the fact that though she
was often stared at by her peers while in the halls, those gazes seemed to multiply even more
so with the new kid by her side.

Great. It was an effort to keep her hands from fisting around her books, from showing any
discomfort at the girls who couldn't be further from understanding how deep her emotions for
Jon Kent went…not in a pleasant way. He was Damian’s ally, thus he had to be her enemy.
Them walking together to indulge Peter’s noble antics didn’t change that.

"My family lives in Metropolis actually. Ma and Pa work there as reporters, but Damian and
I... are getting picked up later to go to his house. It's just a 30 minute drive back to New
Jersey, no big deal" said Jon, locking his bright blue eyes on her much smaller form.

"So you're telling me Damian Wayne didn't move to Queens, he's still living back in Crime
Central?" she asked, and after earning a nod from Jon, she couldn’t hep but sigh out, "What a
relief"

Reaching Peter's locker, Brook was hesitant to leave his side. He'd promised to meet
Brooklyn at her locker so they could walk to Decathlon practice, leaving the Stark to make
her way down the hall with Kent by her side...with her enemy's friend.

Their lockers were only a few feet apart, enough so that they could still hold a proper
conversation about a Spanish test Kent wouldn't have to take…that was until two teens
crashed into the locker space between them to make out. The sight of which almost made her
throw up, until Brook realized they were right atop Damian's locker.

Someone would have a lovely surprise later...

When Jon went back to her side to lean against her open door (effectively blocking most of
her view from the eager couple), he whistled nervously, "Couples aren't allowed to do that
back in Gotham High, they can't even hold hands"

Sneaking a glance at the two teens swallowing each other's faces off, some seniors by the
looks of it, she couldn't help but wish this school had the same restrictions.

Maybe it was the uncomfortable ambiance as she tried to fetch her books as quickly as
possible without listening or seeing anything that was going on beside her, but the girl found
herself answering, "I used to go to a school in Brooklyn, a private one, they weren't allowed
to do that there either. But thankfully, those two seem to have a set schedule, only swallowing
each other whole after school and before lunch"

Jon looked behind his shoulder, ears turning a slight shade of scarlet when he turned back to
face her.
"I'll avoid the lockers during those times, thanks for the tip," he said, then as if by some cue
his eyes widened and he added, "Your friends are here, I should leave you to Decathlon
practice. See you tomorrow, Brooklyn!"

The boy made his way down the busy hall happily, not towards the entrance but up the stairs,
without any further explanation. It wasn't until Brooklyn turned around that she noticed the
rest of her friends were just making their way around the corner.

How had Jon known they were on their way? Was that just a coincidence from a fabricated
excuse to leave her alone?

Though seemingly unimportant, such a puzzling thought followed her into Decathlon
practice, which was filled with angry moping from Flash at not being able to befriend another
public figure or great prestige, and a quick round of competitive questions that actually
managed to make Brook forget Damian Wayne had even been at her school.

It wasn't until the walk to Delmar's with Pete after practice that the teen texted her dad back
after a long and confusing day. It was likely he wouldn't see it until he got back from D.C.,
but it was worth the shot.

I'll talk to you tomorrow at the Compound when you come back from your mission, we have
much to discuss. Also, be careful.

Brooklyn didn't dare text more, she wasn't about to talk about Damian's assassin secret so
openly, or her worry for him and Nat for their stake out. The first was for security reasons
seeing as Damian could use her own assassin background against her, so she'd make sure to
keep that as guarded as possible, just not from her family. Not any more. The second was
because she refused to let anyone see how deep her worry for dad and sestra went. Like most
things that bothered her, she tried to keep it on the back-burner…in that sense Damian
Wayne’s arrival to the school had proven a most successful distraction.

Thankfully, Peter's soothing presence could not have come on a better day. The two did as
promised, staying in Brooklyn's apartment, going over their notes and working out
conjugations for the better part of the afternoon while listening to Pete's favorite songs on full
blast (courtesy of FRIDAY).

Every now and then, Tanya's teasing texts came through, almost succeeding in making
Brooklyn blush at the fact that she truly was spending time alone with a boy, which according
to her friend, was like a date. A date being a social or romantic appointment or engagement.

Brook just hoped her dad never heard of it, poor Peter would have a heart attack if Iron Man
came to pay him an unnecessary visit, and in all honesty....Tony might as well if he heard she
was willingly hanging out with a boy (a notion she’d laughed at his face for thinking she’d
partake in a few weeks back).

After being relatively productive, the pair were still waiting for Aunt May to return home
from work, so Peter went to his flat to get a movie for them to watch. This wasn't a romantic
film like the one Brook had seen with her parents, in true Peter Parker fashion, this was
another space-themed movie.
Aliens.

It was ironic that people once predicted aliens would attack Earth, only for it to happen with
the Chitauri decades later. Brooklyn tried her best to focus away from the happenings of the
battle of New York as she watched the film, choosing instead to note the distance between
her and Peter on the couch within the dark living room.

Practically non-existent.

Peter was so focused on the story line, sometimes mouthing lines from memory, that he'd yet
to notice the little space they shared. Even when he did, he'd been too excited explaining
things to her about the making of the film with a dimpled smile. Brook had never been more
glad for the darkness of the living room to hide the unexplainable blush dusted across her
cheeks.

This was ridiculous, why was she letting herself get lost in Tanya's teasing? Brook was an
assassin, a Black Widow trained to keep her emotions in check (even if today’s events in
school proved she was lacking in that department when a certain Wayne was concerned).
Regardless, she couldn’t help but wonder why this was suddenly such a big deal, the
distance between them and the smiles reserved for her rather than anyone else.

"The movie was actually supposed to be called Star Beast at first," Peter said, pausing his
explanation when he noticed Brooklyn's stare, "Is everything ok?"

She merely nodded.

"I'm just...it's been a crazy day," Brook said dejectedly, leaning her head back on the couch
cushion. Peter's hand rested on her shoulder almost immediately, it had become such a
common comfort these past few days that she tried not to let the action go to her head just
because they were the only people in the room.

This was just how Peter was, and his touch was but a copy of the comforting gestures he’d
likely learned from his aunt.

"I'm sure there is nothing to worry about, if this is about Damian Wayne, you'll only see him
in two classes and lunch so that's not so bad" Peter said sheepishly.

Maybe he was right, it would be easy to avoid the demon with lessons in the way of any
further arguments. Gym class might be the exception to that rule. Perhaps easy wasn't the
right word, but she'd been through harder tasks in life, one of them much like the alien
invasion on her TV.

All Brook had to do was make sure she was better than the Wayne at everything if he chose
to stay...for the sake of her family reputation, of course. Beating Peter at Valedictorian down
the line would be hard enough as it was, but she had to be better than everyone if only to
keep herself sane.

Having Damian in some of her classes would not hinder that.

"You know, in difficult moments like this, I often turn to a force greater than myself," Peter
said, smile back on his face clearly with the purpose of cheering her up.

"Religion?" Brook asked, only for Peter to shake his head and wittily reply, "Star Wars"

The girl actually laughed, throwing her head back against the couch once she realized Peter’s
advice might very well be the furthest thing away from Steve’s inspirational speeches. When
she looked back up at the friend seated beside her, she asked, "And what advice and wisdom
does Star Wars have for me today?"

Peter sat up straighter, his bright brown eyes glinting with the light of a nearby lamp. With a
mockingly wise tone, he said, "Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to
suffering. Yoda said that so you know it's great advice"

"I agree with him," Brook muttered with a faint smile, "Damian is making me suffer, his
mere existence is a bothersome thing"

Peter shook his head, brown locks swaying wildly in a way that made the faint curls seem all
the fluffier. Keeping the shared blanket between them secured around his shoulders, he
snuggled deeper into the couch, gazing at her with a gentle patience Brook wasn’t sure she
was worth.

"I'm not sure that's how you're supposed to take the advice," he said with a whisper of a
laugh.

“How am I supposed to take it then?”

“I would say that the hatred you have towards the Waynes will lead to suffering down the
line, that maybe you should stop trying to pick a fight when there is no need for it
considering its born from a conflict we weren't even born to witness,” Peter said softly, “yet
something tells me you won't see it that way”

Brooklyn smiled in return.

Though she often listened to his academic wisdom, Brooklyn didn’t know if she had it in her
to ignore an enemy for his peace of mind. Even for Peter, she could not let this quarrel go, not
when it was now personal in a way she could not explain to him. Her secrets were her own,
and no matter how much she wanted to be honest, Brook knew the truth would have to
remain her own now and always.

When a knock came at the door— signaling May's return—Peter rushed out of the couch to
gather his books from the kitchen table, not at all deterred by her lack of a response to his
proposal as if he’d already known her answer. Brooklyn helped her friend assemble
everything, and by the time they both stood by her door, she couldn't help but wish that he'd
stayed longer.

Never in her life had Brooklyn thought being around a person would be so soothing, a nice
way to forget (even for just a few hours) all the sins of her life and the reality of her past.
"If we don't get a full mark on our Spanish tests I'll know something is wrong," Brook joked
as she handed over his jacket, the same one she’d gifted him long ago. She would in fact
suspect foul play, her first suspect being Jon who could've been bribed into that class by
Damian Wayne's influence to ruin her academic success. Or at least that was one of her
working theories for Kent's kindness.

Peter laughed, securing his shoes in place, "I think we'll be fine, I'm actually sure your
Spanish is better than mine"

Of course she couldn't tell him why that was, but it was still nice to think of it as a
compliment just for her, not the Red Room teachings. Yet another secret between them.

With a final wave, Peter went back to his apartment, and Brooklyn was left lingering by her
massive windows, gazing at the lights of the city down below if only to avoid the sight of the
couch she'd just shared with another human being.

Well...that had been a new experience for sure.

Once she finished her homework, studied, and completed all the Stark Industries documents
she'd been given a week ago for revision, the girl finally settled down on her familiar couch
with a sigh. The blanket they shared still smelled of her company, bunsen burners and a sweet
scent she couldn't quite place as anything more specific than the candy store across the street.

Maybe, if only to get her mind off the events of the day, she would work on another pressing
matter of hers. One she’d been avoiding. Opening up her laptop to log in to the secure
SHIELD network, the teen got working on identifying and profiling the different
underground crime groups of Queens.

She'd infiltrate them soon enough, but for now, she spent the night working on her couch,
listening to soothing tunes from one of MJ's shared playlists that was full of orchestral pieces
and gentle strings.

Every now and then though, as she typed away on her keyboard, a name would pop up in her
mind. Damian Wayne. Maybe it was the late hour into the night, but sometimes she’d
mistakenly type the name out and she’d have to go through the shame of deleting it as
quickly as the last letter popped up. The SHIELD version of Word was a secure and private
network, but she still feared anyone would see just how far her unrest went beyond the
confines of her mission.

She'd yet to give up figuring out why he'd transferred to Midtown, but she'd do so eventually
on another day when she wasn't so emotionally compromised.

Instead, she worked through figuring out who might be distributing all these weapons, and
answering texts from her friends in what she’d come to accept as normal an evening as she’d
get. A combination of her hidden life as a SHIELD agent and her mundane teenage activities.

What Brooklyn didn't know was that the boy she'd been thinking of every now and then had
not gone back home after school. He'd stayed behind, and when Jon mentioned something
about Brooklyn being in the Decathlon team, already holed up in practice as they spoke, the
Wayne figured he had to acquire an after school activity of his own to keep an eye on her
better.

Jon had happily mentioned he'd go try out for the football team, something that would not be
of any challenge to the half-Kryptonian thanks to his developing powers and previous
experience. Sure enough, Harry Osborn had given the teen a chance to join the team despite
his friendship with Damian.

After evaluating his skills, Jon soon found himself as the 52nd player of the Midtown team.

Damian had been less ecstatic to have to spend extra time at school, but after inquiring about
the extracurricular activities offered, he found one that was not completely unbearable. The
Art Club of Midtown happened to meet on the same days as the Decathlon and football
practice, a perfect fit for his mission and well within his skill set. It was also favorable that
the classroom for the art class was on a completely different floor from the Decathlon hall.

Brooklyn would not even know he was at school, even if she bothered to pay attention to his
actions during school hours.

When Damian had made it inside the assigned room, he was even more pleased to see there
were only four students and a teacher. After a brief introduction and a demand to join the
club, the Wayne was gladly accepted into their humble ranks.

Soon, he had a paintbrush and canvas before him, with the simple task to portray something
about what he was feeling today. It would’ve been awfully cliche and childish had Damian
not had an avalanche or repressed thoughts to sort through.

"Its ok if it doesn't turn out as well the first time," the teacher had encouraged, "art is all
about improvement and letting the feelings out"

Damian nodded, but knew his piece would be the embodiment of perfection once completed.
He'd been enhancing his art skills for many years since he joined his father's side in Gotham,
and Damian had quickly become a skilled painter and digital artist after a few years, enough
so that he always carried one of his sketchbooks around for comfort.

None of his siblings knew of course, only his father, and that was only because of the time
Damian had been grounded from using any cars after crashing a Batmobile. In retaliation,
Damian sold one of his recent paintings with an alias at one of Julie McGinnis' art expos for
enough money to buy himself a used luxury car. A car Bruce could not keep him front
driving since it wasn't his.

This assignment would be nothing compared to what he could do with enough time and
effort, but it would have to do so he could prove he was worthy of being in the club. In no
time, as his paintbrush flew across the canvas, Damian got lost in his movements, unsure
what he was creating until the teacher came to stand behind him to inspect his work.

"That is marvelous, a true masterpiece Mr. Wayne," the teacher said, her eyes roaming
greedily along every perfect stroke, shading, and choice of carefully crafted color…but
Damian was staring at his piece with nothing short of horror.

Paint your emotions, that had been the command...so how had this come to be?

There, on the once white canvas was not an abstract depiction of anger or frustrations he felt
deep within, but rather a person. The person stood facing away from the beholder in a way
that the face of the individual was not visible. The piece mostly consisted of wavy auburn
hair of orange undertones, a body decorated with a vibrant blood-red dress, sleeved hands
raised by her sides.

The background had ended up a tad more on the abstract side. There were many harsh black
lines done with violent strokes, all contrasting the bright colors from the person in the
painting. It was as if the individual was surrounded by primordial darkness itself.

Then, Damian noticed the last part he'd been working on before being snapped out of his
artistic trance. The place the teacher’s eyes now lingered on.

There on the girl's right hand...was a little bird, a Robin with its classic gray feathers and
bright orange belly. The finger of the ginger-haired girl was so delicately stretched out for the
bird to perch upon, even in the darkness around them both, that it lessened the dark and
somber undertones of the background. The painting was not one of violence or hatred, but
something new that danced with feelings of curiosity rather than the seething hatred in his
heart.

What the hell had he painted…

He knew who was depicted in the painting, of course...Damian had drawn Brooklyn Stark,
his one true enemy, the bane of his very being. It took everything in his control not to bolt
from the stool he sat on, instead staring with wide eyes at his creation while the teacher kept
spouting nonsense and praises he could no longer hear.

"This is truly astounding, the level of detail and care in each aspect…" the teacher whispered
more so to herself than Damian, wasting no time taking the canvas to an adjacent room in the
back to dry along with everyone else's art.

Still shocked by his unusual mistake, the teen quickly composed himself and then took the
time to threaten the others in the room to keep quiet about his membership in the club before
heading out to the field once he earned their meek nods of confirmation.

Even though he'd still been confused about his art, Damian did not let it show as he met up
with Jon once his practice had ended. He’d painted plenty of things in his lifetime, one fluke
of judgment didn’t change the fact that his skill was still as pristine as always.

The pair discretely followed Stark and Parker outside of school after that, only because Jon
had heard them at lunch discussing something about a study session together, yet it still
puzzled Damian to see such a frail boy by the assassin's side.

At first, he’d thought that study session might've been a cover on Stark's part so she could go
out and kill or something. Yet the pair seemed at ease. They ate their food with glee from a
place definitely not becoming of someone of Brooklyn Stark’s monetary status, laughed
along to silly jokes, did mundane things boring people would find themselves doing...things
an assassin shouldn't be.

Damian had been the one to notice the Parker kid open the gates to the apartment complex
where Brooklyn clearly lived in, leading him to assume both had a common neighborhood
within.

Something about seeing her, that same red hair he'd painted only hours prior...it made
Damian angry for the remainder of their stakeout. Not just at her for all that had happened at
school or at the gala, but also at himself for letting it bother him so much.

Never once had he painted an actual person prior to this day. People were flawed, and not
many would be worthy of being amongst his sketches...but she'd been the first. Her of all
people. It was a haunting thought as he and Jon rested atop a distant building with a perfect
view of the girl's massive open windows.

No one else lived within but her, it seemed, another useful bit of information to report back.

After Jon kept sight of the studious pair with his x-ray vision, he noticed nothing amiss their
interactions and for the sake of his insistent boredom, flew Damian back to Gotham in less
than ten minutes once the sky had darkened to provide enough cover for them. Once within
the lavish and darkened halls of the Wayne Manor, both teens bid farewells rather quickly
seeing Jon was excited to go back home and share his first day with his family. As if it had
any importance to their mission.

Bruce was still not home once Damian made it to the spacious family room, in fact, no one
was home except for Drake down at the cave. The emptiness of the castle-like manor was not
unusual especially when in the midst of missions, it was not something the teen lingered on
for too long.

Damian kept details of his first day from a curious Pennyworth during dinner, simply stating
the mission was establishing its foundation and nothing more. After the lonely meal at the
large and empty table, he'd merely done his homework and gone to bed as quickly as he
could. He didn't even bother writing up a report for Bruce on the happenings of the day,
something he figured he could get done tomorrow once father had rested from the night's
events and would actually deign to read it properly.

Something still plagued his thoughts, even after a long shower and a bit of training amidst his
darkened room with the pair of glowing katanas that were nothing but an expansion of his
body at this point.

Two words would not let him succumb to sleep peacefully that night, even with Titus and
Alfred the Cat doing their best to comfort their silently seething master.

Brooklyn Stark.

The pesky spider that thought she could pull him into her web of annoyance. He would not
allow it, even if every nerve in his body was telling him to kill her, wipe that smug smirk off
her face. She was a problem, his mission, his enemy, and as of right now....his greatest
annoyance.

But she was also his first muse, a thought that had him screaming into his fluffy pillows lest
Pennyworth be hanging around in the hall.

It had been the first restless sleep he'd had in a long while, even when Titus curled beside him
in bed, the dog's comfort was not enough to stop the anger in his blood. Damian feared, for a
few seconds, that nothing short of killing the girl would get rid of it.
 An Inevitable Confrontation

Brooklyn POV-

Just like Brooklyn, the weather was teetering along a rope of uncertainty like her emotions.
One day, the weather was unbearably cold, the next, it was sunny enough for skirts to be
worn comfortably.

It had been three days. Only three, and Brook was already starting to lose her mind and
strength of will.

On one hand, she'd been trying to keep as far away from Damian so she wouldn't end up
killing him, but throughout the day, his unavoidable presence and their quick yet distasteful
banter almost made her lose control on more than one occasion.

It seemed that he too tried to use his father's approach to the Stark-Wayne conflict by being as
rude to her as possible. That was fine most of the time, Brooklyn was used to insults from the
Red Room’s efforts to convince her she had no place in the world, and even from her time
working at the diner, to be able to block most of it out.

The thing was, Damian Wayne wasn't just insulting her, he was doing it in the most effective
way possible. With the truth.

Just yesterday during a very boring history lesson on the history of Atlantis, Damian had
knocked down a pencil from her table. When she'd taken his and thrown it on the floor as
retribution, he'd claimed it had been an accident on his part...that she shouldn't be such a
temperamental brat.

Yes, she had a temper. Fury loved to remind her of that every day of training, but the fact that
he used that flaw against her, it took everything in her frail self-restraint not to stab him with
her fallen pencil.

The day prior to that during lunch, Brook had noticed Damian Wayne frowning at his chicken
nuggets, shoving them Jon's way, who gladly took the food and stuffed it into his mouth. It
didn’t take too long to observe that if there was anyone in this world that ate more than Peter,
it was Damian’s friend.

"What's wrong Wayne? Is the cafeteria food not good enough for your high tastes?" she'd
asked after a sip of her orange juice, which to be fair, wasn’t the best. She still gulped it down
like it was freshly squeezed from the best oranges in the world just to prove a point.

Damian had shot her the most exasperated expression possible, shouting back to her side of
the table, "I'm a vegetarian. In case your little brain doesn't know what that is, it means I don't
eat meat"

"Of course I know what it means, I just never expected someone of your nature to actually
care about animal cruelty" she'd snapped back, a subtle jab at his secret assassin identity.
Damian had looked her in the eye, expression blank as her replied, "Yet here I sit, a
vegetarian, while you're the one who seems to be crueler than me, murderous even"

Brook had wanted nothing more than to climb atop the table and tackle the teen into a death
grip with the very straps of his backpack, but there were teachers around the cafeteria, and
too many eyes around them eagerly anticipating yet another banter from the two.

So she'd reigned in her instincts, remembered the conversation she'd had with her dad on
Tuesday. He'd come back from his mission early, had interrupted Brook's SHIELD training
just to talk to her about the news of a Wayne at her school. Even when Fury had tried to kick
her dad out of the matts where the other agents in training had halted their own progress, dad
had stubbornly remained, claiming this was an emergency of utmost importance. Which it
was.

When she'd explained all that had happened so far, including her volleyball victory, the fun
little nickname for the young Wayne, and eventually her knowledge of his affiliation with the
League of Assassins, Tony actually had to sit down on one of the nearby benches in the
empty hallway.

His first reaction was not fury or concern…but pride.

"You called him Dami?" he’d asked, to which Brook nodded trying to mask her pride as best
she could, "You are an absolute genius, a Stark without a doubt. The books said I should
discourage you from fighting with other kids, but I couldn't be prouder that you kicked his
ass like that!"

That part had been great, what came after, the serious conversation with the rest of the
Avengers...that had been a little less fun. Dad had gone as far as to gather them all in the
Avengers’ private meeting room, which was not a massive space by any means, but it was the
safest place to discuss private matters around a large table with enough seats for every team
member.

Brooklyn might’ve admired the technological wonders of the space, or lingered more on the
fact that there had been a chair for her at her father’s right side, had it not been for the
pressing matter in hand.

"So, the youngest Wayne is part of the League of Shadows?" a barely visibly exhausted Nat
had asked from her seat at the conference table, "A place made up of assassins who worked
for the great Ra's al Ghul, the Chief Demon. American Intelligence found out he died a few
years back, truly shocking considering he was probably the best assassin in the world in
terms of successful operations and wealth acquired"

Rhodey scoffed, "Most of us know what already, but what is someone from the League trying
to achieve? Especially since he’s nothing but a child and had to have been even younger if he
was still trained under the League’s influence. What could that…operative want?"

Natasha and Clint both shared a knowing glance across the table, frowning as they seemed to
share the same thought. Brooklyn knew of the League, everyone did in the assassin world,
but she had no clue as to what they actually stood for. It was partially why she’d deigned to
share her recent knowledge in the first place, Brook could finish the puzzle if she didn’t have
all of the pieces.

The Red Room's purpose was simple in the most terrifying and ambitious of ways, to create
the greatest spies and assassins to serve Russia's ancient government, to bring glory to the
country until it could take over control of everything, unchallenged.

Apparently, Damian's training academy was different.

"Their followers of the League claim to have annulled and deposed centers of civilizations
such as Baghdad and Rome throughout past generations in their lineage. They act as a
catalyst to the reformation of decadent civilizations around the globe. Under their previous
leader, they gave SHIELD quite the trouble for years," Clint had added, "I had to fight a few
of their forces a couple times. They are skilled, but not legendary like Ra's al Ghul is rumored
to be. If I had to guess, I’d say Ra’s cared more about quantity over quality where his foot
soldiers are concerned"

That had eased something in her mind. Brooklyn knew for a fact that the leader of the League
was a much more skilled assassin than Ivan, but her old master was a much better and
legendary spy. What Clint said was correct, about the League’s basic agents being laughably
easy to defeat, whereas the Red Room focused on quality more than quantity. Yet considering
all their resources and assets, both guilds were like two sides of the same coin, ones ruled by
the most powerful men in the underground crime belly of the world.

The question now was, just how powerful was Damian Wayne? He was certainly no mere
ninja or foot soldier, but someone trained more thoroughly. Perhaps he was meant to be a
personal guard to Ra’s al Ghul?

Brooklyn's dad lazily had placed an arm around her shoulders, turning to ask, "Are you sure
you're ok going back to school? I'll still have Clint look into the League of Villains just in
case, but if he tries to hurt you—"

Before she could answer, Brook had been cut off.

"First of all, it's the League of Assassins. Secondly, the League have no strongholds in the
U.S that I know of. What good will it do to look into them? Ra's al Ghul is dead, the League
probably disbanded after that" Clint argued, pausing her dad's rambling.

Tony had stood up from his seat, pacing the room with the blue hue of the holographic
screens across the walls lighting up his displeased expression, "It's important because Bruce
Wayne must have some involvement with them if his child was part of it! In which case, I’d
like to remind you that New Jersey is not too far from here and would be our jurisdiction to
protect"

Pepper had scoffed, "I don’t think the Batman would ever let any of you go in to investigate
their most popular public figure, you know his history of violence for those that trespass into
Gotham...and we don't need another war. I swear, if this is because you want to find out the
truth so you can shove it up in Bruce’s face like the mature adult you are…"
Brooklyn had rolled her eyes at her dad's silence, but she did not stand from her seat to join
his pacing, not while her sestra had still been braiding her hair lazily. She'd turned to the 3D
hologram in the middle of the table, staring at Damian's school profile with disgust, but
ultimately deciding this was something that did not need Avengers intervention.

Not right now at least. The team was busy with their own missions, worked to the bone as it
was trying to stop these alien weapons from spreading and developing.

Brook had scoffed, trying to downplay her own frustrations and annoyance as she stated, "I
can handle Damian, dad. He's nothing but a spoiled brat anyways"

Of course, she hadn't accounted for how annoying Damian could truly be when challenged
back then.

Everything with him was a competition now, a test of skills and a battle of pride.

When they got back assignments in History, he always made sure she could see his slightly
higher score, resulting in Brook slaving over her lessons every night just to guarantee a
perfect grade in all her assignments. Once she'd begun to earn better results, it seemed he too
had picked up his game. But academic competition was not enough to satisfy the raw anger
they both seemed to possess.

It made the school days have a little more at stake than usual, hours filled with wins and
losses.

It would've probably seemed like her Red Room days, were it not for the lack of punishment
for failures Brook relented to. Aside from a blow to her ego, there wasn't really anything else
at stake, and there was something about that which...made it almost fun.

By now, her friends had noticed the constant banter and competition, even Mr. Wilson had
made a point to never let them face off in any team sport matches ever again during gym
class. She’d even noticed their history teacher sweating a bit when grading their assignments.

Today was a new day though, a sunny Thursday afternoon that fueled her friends to already
start excitedly making plans to seize the beautiful weather after Decathlon practice.

Standing by Peter and Ned's adjoining lockers, the group of unlikely friends were trying to
figure out if they should watch the new It movie or Pitch Perfect 3.

"It's not Halloween yet, we should watch the other one" Tanya argued, getting ready to smack
Harry with her literature book should he decide to argue against her decision. Harry raised his
hands in the air to admit defeat, then winked at a giggling group of passing girls.

"You are a shameless flirt, Harry," Brooklyn said from her place between Peter and Ned, both
their arms resting around her shoulders comfortably.

"I wouldn't say I'm a flirtatious man, my dearest friend," Harry said, fixing his wavy hair
back in place with flamboyant flare, "I'm happy to give the girls of this school a chance to
share me"
"Yeah, that doesn't sound very good either," Ned said, shaking his head, "Plus I heard Brianna
was crying yesterday because you ditched her for Zoey, especially since rumor has it you are
actually five girls away from making out with every girl in our year"

The crying girl rumor had been true, Tanya and Brook had heard the loud sobs when they
went to the lady's room to fix their lipstick after lunch. Only Tanya had been brave enough to
attempt and comfort her fellow cheerleader. The young assassin still had no clue how to be
that kind of comforting support for anyone, but she'd paid attention on that solemn day and
learned a few things.

Listen. Nod. Agree with the person's side of the story. Offer advice. Lastly, embrace the
hurting victim. Then repeat until the person eventually stops crying. Useful information,
which Brook hoped to never have to use.

Peter shifted beside her, putting his phone away and looking up at Harry with what she
assumed to be the closest thing to a reprimanding glance their gentle friend could summon.

"Maybe you should just date a girl for a while, you know, take her out on a real date or
something...settle down?" he said, earning a ridiculous laugh from Osborn as if the idea was
unthinkable.

"At least we know that accomplishment to make out with every girl in our year is a bust, the
three of us are smart enough to stay away from you" Tanya added, high-fiving MJ, who didn't
take her eyes off the book on her lap from where she sat between them.

The young Stark almost swore she heard Peter breathe out a sigh of relief at the thought,
probably happy MJ would not end up locking lips or falling for one of his best friends.
Though the concept of jealousy was foreign, she imagined this was as close as Peter Parker
would ever get to that…distant longing.

Brooklyn might've continued to listen to the amusing argument if only to help bring down
Harry's ego, but past Harry and Tanya's shoulders towards the entrance of the school, the girl
noticed two people standing amidst hushed whispers, the crowds around them eagerly parting
a path for them.

Damian and Jon.

Though it was most certainly none of her business, she couldn't help but wonder what secrets
could those two be whispering about? Maybe she was just being overly cautious that
particular morning.

From her point of view down the busy hall, Brooklyn could see as a group of Harry's
teammates rushed over to Jon, only backing away slightly when they beheld Damian's glare.
They were saying something to Kent, which eventually caused the boy to bid farewell to his
companion and head out with the team, probably towards the back field where Harry had
mentioned something about a quick scrimmage before class.

Damian—now alone in the hall—reached for his phone, eyes widening ever so slightly as he
placed the device by his ear and left the building.
These past few days, she'd seen the Wayne looking at his phone too often to be casual. At
first she'd assumed it was just something he did as a nervous tick...but it's like he was waiting
for a message or notification.

Could it be instructions to kill her? Would that phone call provide answers for her?

Without thinking twice about it, Brooklyn detached from her friends comforting arms,
smoothing down her navy blue sweater before shooting the group a kind smile to cover her
rising curiosity and concern.

"I'll be back in a bit," Brook said, eyeing the clock atop the wall's lockers, "should be back
before class starts"

Tanya gave her that look again, the one that the assassin had come to know as the 'I know
you're about to do something but I'm not going to stop you' look. Luckily, her other friends
dismissed it with simple promises to see her in class later, assuming she’d be going to the
restroom. Though she was just going to do a little investigating, she wanted her friends here
where it was safe, just in case.

With that, Brooklyn made her way down the busy halls, backpack clutched tightly with one
hand as she replied to simple greetings from fellow students without taking note of their
faces.

Since her weekend in California, when the media had apparently followed her family around
and she'd ended up on news channels and trending on social media, people had been a lot
more eager to talk to her.

Though the greetings and smiles were not uncommon by any means, some part of Brooklyn
was still not quite used to it all. The visibility paired along with a reserved nature...even when
she was slowly breaking out of her shell, it was startling sometimes. Right now, her nerves
were masked by pressing curiosity, so waving at a few strangers was not that big of a deal.

Once outside the warm confines of the school building, Brook politely greeted more people
making their way indoors while her eyes scanned for that familiar boy she’d come to classify
as her greatest enemy, only to see he was headed away from the crowds towards the
lonesome paths around the football court.

He looked at ease, then again his back was facing her, so how could she be certain? But she'd
seen Damian angry many times, this was not one of them, which only intrigued her more.
Rushing down the school's front steps, Brooklyn managed to make it to the tree filled area
just as Damian was finishing his conversation along the pebbled path.

"I understand father," she heard him say, "and there is nothing to be concerned about,
Brooklyn Stark is irrelevant to me"

At the mention of her name, all of Brook’s previous reservations about going through all this
trouble to spy on Damian went out the window. She quickly took cover behind an old oak
tree, silently wondering why she was brought up in conversation with his father of all people.
He’d called her Irrelevant...that guy sure knew how to flatter a girl.

The rest of the conversation was rather disappointing, filled with hums of agreement or
grunts of annoyance from the teen rather than words that could’ve provided clues as to what
was being discussed. To say it infuriated her would be an understatement. Being talked about
by a world of strangers was one thing, being the topic of conversations amidst family
enemies was an entirely different matter. One she could not let stand, especially after these
three—nearly four—long days of torture.

As soon as Damian hung up the phone, Brook set her backpack down on the floor, letting it
crush the dried up leaves on the floor to reveal her arrival.

Her nemesis quickly spun to face her, only to frown when he realized who it was that
emerged from the shadowed edges of the path. Had Brook actually cared about his opinion,
she might've been hurt by his constant indifference, but now all she could think of was all the
pent up rage she'd been holding back these last few days. Like lava string violently in an
active volcano.

"Don't worry, you're irrelevant to me too," Brooklyn said by way of greeting.

Damian scoffed as he glared at her approach, "If that were true, then you wouldn't have
followed me"

Two could play that game of words. In fact, she’d be willing to wager that after three days
worth of silent observation, Brooklyn knew enough to deal some painful blows. She didn’t
care that it proved her point of him being irrelevant wrong, when it came to their hatred for
each other, they were both guilty of that lie.

"Well, if you truly considered me irrelevant, then you wouldn't be talking about me to your
dad," she snapped back, placing her hands lazily on the pockets of her high-waisted shorts as
she beheld Damian Wayne's anger boil up with every passing exchange of words, like a kettle
boiling water.

They had been dancing around their anger for each other for days, enough so that it was far
too satisfying to finally get to say some of what she was thinking out loud to his pretentious
face. At least they were alone, and could say whatever they wanted without curious ears
around.

It seemed Wayne was in agreement.

Shrugging off his own backpack, the boy matched her steps and strode over to her, hands
folded behind his back, that insufferable black turtle neck almost begging her to choke the
life out of him with it.

"You think yourself such a good person just because your dad is a renowned hero? News
flash Stark, you are nothing but an assassin, a murderer that doesn't belong with those heroes.
You never will," he said.
Like Brook said, Damian somehow knew exactly what to say to piss her off, always picking
on the worries and truths she tried to bury deep in her mind. But like hell she was just going
to stand there and let the demon insult her.

"Really? Well, you're just a guy who wants to push everyone away aren't you!?" she yelled
back, "Soon enough even Jon won't be able to stand you attitude and you are going to end up
alone Damian Wayne, because someone like you could never be liked, much less loved!
YOU are the architect of your own unhappiness, no one else!"

Bingo.

That struck a chord, one she'd made a slight bet on.

Brooklyn had gotten very good at reading him these past few days, seeing the slight and
almost invisible differences in each of his frowns and scowls to be able to tell them apart.
Microscopic changes really.

Every time someone went to talk to Jon, Damian's only friend, the boy looked bored to
everyone else...but Brook had noted the slight annoyance and even jealousy swimming
within him. Not just when someone was talking to Jon, but when groups of friends passed by
him in pure blissful happiness.

More than that, she knew how assassins thought, she was one after all. Though there must be
many differences between the League and the Red Room, she'd bargained that their fears
would be the same, their teachings when it came to getting close to people being alike in
some ways.

So she threw one of her own fears against him, and it had paid off.

Damian scoffed, "And you won't? You think those friends of yours actually like you? The
second they hear who you truly are and the atrocities you've likely committed in the Red
Room, they will run from you and never look back"

Of course, by principal, her own plan could be used against her.

Who did Damian Wayne think he was, calling her out on something that was none of his
business? It was as if he was in her head, pulling out all the fears from the back of her head
and toying with them just to get a reaction. To win their little unspoken mind game.

Stalking closer until both of them were face to face, with little space between them, Brooklyn
dared to laugh bitterly at his comment while doing her best to hide the worry within. In the
face of an enemy, there was no room to display any weaknesses. Ivan may have taught her
that, but it didn't mean she was any closer to reverting back to his old teachings.

Though it was another of Ivan’s teachings, Brook figured that in order to win this little spat
she’d have to blend the truth with lies hidden cleverly within. She’d have to go beyond
stating his fears, but rather making the wildest of them seem true.
"Friends aren’t everything. At least I have a father that actually likes me despite all that,
yours looked at you in the gala like...like you're a burden! Bet he wishes that adopted son of
his Harry was talking about, the smart one, was the one to inherit his company instead of
you"

Damian's cold emerald eyes seemed to darken, and despite the sunny afternoon, the mood
around them was not nearly as bright. Damian's anger was like freezing ice, while Brook's
was like a lively and uncontrollable fire.

It was as if all reason went out of both their heads in those moments, like nothing else
mattered aside from making the other suffer. Both had clearly been observant these past few
days, both had enough ammo to fight with by now, to damage their opponent with ease. In
this lonesome path hidden by trees and foliage, they could engage in a fight beyond the petty
acts they’d partaken in the past few days at last.

"You say one more word, Stark, and you will regret it," Damian warned, moving closer still
that Brook could now see the hints of darker shades in his irises, the golden tone of his skin,
even see the remainders of a scar that had once been right on his cheekbone, reduced to
nothing more than a faint line.

They were almost chest to chest, and despite the fact that he silently mocked her by leaning
down slightly as if to remind her of her stature…Brooklyn felt her body come to life at the
challenge, like it was buzzing with electricity that was eager to fight.

The girl smirked, "Who's gonna make me? You?"

Her nemesis laughed, a cruel thing he must've learned from someone as despicable as he was.
This close up, she almost wagered his eyes darkened as well as if in response to her cruel
words.

"You're not worth my time or effort. You are as weak as your father, and in time people less
skilled than me will be able to kill you both with ease," he said, almost resulting in Brooklyn
taking a few steps back. Not in fear of Damian, but to get away from the thought of anything
happening to her loved one.

Her dad...dead. What had once been a mindless hope during their rocky start was now an
inconceivable future. One she would never allow, not to him, even by mention alone. Damian
could attack Brook, that was fine, but bringing Tony into this was too far.

"Take that back Wayne," she warned, "right now, or you will regret it"

Damian did not back down, in fact, he at last seemed pleased with the way this conversation
was going. No longer playful banter of competition, this was actual raw anger, real conflict.
Dangerous territory to be in considering they were both assassins. But...she just didn't care
about righteousness or control at the moment even if those two principles had been what
she’d held on to these past few days to keep sane, Brooklyn couldn't find it in herself to back
down from this little showdown of theirs anymore.
"How exactly will I be regretting this? You have no idea who you are speaking to," Damian
warned, and as soon as Brooklyn raised her hand either to shove or slap him (she wasn’t
sure), he'd seized her wrist with his own and kept them raised by their sides.

She hadn't planned on attacking him further than a touch or two, but now that he'd made a
move...she might as well follow up with one of her own.

"Neither do you, Wayne. You have no idea who I can be when I'm angry," Brook whispered
back as she used her free arm to swing at his head.

Damian managed to duck from the sloppy move, quickly moving to halt Brooklyn's
answering blow with ease. The Red Room assassin continued with a series of simple kicks
and punches just to catch the guy off guard. Her plan truly came into play when the Wayne
decided he'd had enough of games and began going on the offensive.

His moves were quick, precise, and if he'd wished it...probably deadly. The dark smirk
plastered on his face was misplaced, thinking Brooklyn had shown her all earlier and that
victory was on the horizon for him. When he managed to try for a foot sweep, the girl jumped
up before his polished shoe could reach hers, turning in the air with the momentum of her
movement and landing a kick right at his side.

The black-haired teen looked up in surprise from his place among the dried leaves on the
floor for a few seconds before that murderous gaze returned. As quick as his previous moves
had been, he stood up effortlessly and began his attacks once again.

Though it was probably the wrong time to admit it, considering the company, Brooklyn
hadn't felt this alive for a long time. Sure, training with the Avengers was great, but she'd
always been careful not to take it too far, afraid she would hurt her new family. But fighting
someone she genuinely despised, letting her mind see him as an enemy to take down while he
too was in that state where holding back was secondary...it was glorious.

Their first moves had been like a testing of the waters, only to move on to more aggressive
ones as their anger increased. Soon enough the sight of those green eyes was so engaging that
Brook used the nearby trees to attack from better angles, pushing off them to land elbow jabs
from above across his body.

Damian had gotten a few good hits in as well, enough that Brooklyn quickly came to a
startling realization.

He truly was a League of Assassins product, his speed was beyond anything Brooklyn had
ever fought in her life, his mind working just as fast as hers to anticipate their moves long
before they were executed. Damian Wayne had been trained better than most, perhaps had
even been one of their best.

This fight was...not a certain victory after all.

"I expected better from a Stark," Damian said, placing a perfect kick against the crossed arms
guarding her face, sending her tumbling down to the ground. Instinct quickly got Brook onto
a proper crouched stance on the floor, one ready to pounce.
Fueled by the comment against the family name she had now embraced, Brooklyn moved as
is to make a front attack, only to grab a fistful of scattered leaves and throwing them at her
nemesis' face.

In his fleeting moment of distraction, Brooklyn quickly slid under his parted legs and with
her back against the floor, she shot out a foot that sent him tumbling to the floor.

Flipping backwards, Brook got back in a standing position, looking down at Damian who
was already managing to stand with nothing but his hands' support. The moment they were
both standing with only a few feet between them, panting from their efforts, Brooklyn
removed her knitted sweater and discarded it on the floor without even a glance.

Damian discarded his own turtleneck as well, eyes ablaze with more life that she'd ever seen,
a change to the usual bored expression he loved so much. It almost reminded her of that day
during their volleyball match when neither had been able to fight as they longed, settling for
the rules of a childish game to sort through what they could not say or do in public.

Though she was not entirely sure how this match of wills would turn out, she couldn't back
out now. Brooklyn considered using her Stark watch since clearly the boundaries to what they
couldn’t do were slowly crumbling, but that would take the fun out of everything.

If she was going to win, it would be with her fists and superior skills.

Almost as if they shared a common mind, both teens rushed at each other in unison, and upon
contact Brook was quick to grab onto the back of Damian’s neck while he seemed to have
chosen to grab onto a fistful of her hair, yanking hard.

Both attempted to trip the other, only resulting in both of them falling to the ground amidst
the heap of soft grass and leaves of various shades of reds, oranges, and browns. Brooklyn
should've really paid attention to how far they’d traveled during their fight, because as soon
as her body hit the floor and she attempted to to get his weight off her, they went tumbling
down a small hill.

The thing about the ‘running’ side paths of Midtown was that they were an extension of the
undisturbed parts of the true forest surrounding the school. The football field in the middle of
the two paths had been built on lower ground. It was that division between the obscured path
and the school’s field that both assassins tumbled into.

Neither seized to fight despite this fact, throwing the occasional punch or kick with the
increasing momentum of their tumbling as they ended up rolling onto the artificial grass of
the football field— which at this hour was still full of students— with screams of rage and
grunts of pain.

Their movement stopped with Brooklyn atop her enemy, which granted her the amazing
opportunity of punching him straight in the jaw. Damian didn’t react to the pain it must’ve
induced, but rather grew in anger at the contact. As retaliation, he used his considerable
strength to push her back a few feet with his bare hands.
At this point in the fight, she was too far gone to care that a large crowd was starting to form
around them, she only saw them as obstacles in the way for those few seconds before Damian
had reached her side again, placing an arm against her neck like that day in the janitor's
closet.

His hold was meant to hurt, to restrict, but not strong enough to cut off all her airflow…
which she figured meant Damian wanted to relish in this fight. He wanted it to last so they
could truly test the other’s limits. For once in her life, Brook was in agreement with him.

Brooklyn knew it would be useless to try and fight his strong hold, so instead she began
kicking her knees into his stomach which would no doubt leave a few bruises and some
difficulty to bend down for a few days. She likely would've foregone all her logic and really
attempted to kill him had the screaming not started.

It wasn't her who was screaming, or Damian. It was a woman's voice, one of the teachers—
who along with a band of other authoritative figures—worked their way through the crowds
of cheering students and practically pried the two teens apart.

Brook still had enough sense amidst her haze not to fight the adults prying her up and away
from her enemy, but she couldn't relinquish the death glares she was sending Damian as he
too chose not to easily dispose of those pulling him away.

Both teens were panting, furiously fueled by cruel words and a rivalry that almost seemed
like it could’ve always been a part of their lives. It wasn't until Brook was asked if she was ok
by the cluster of students now standing before her that she tried to snap out of her trance. The
fact that they obscured her view of Damian might’ve helped in that regard.

"I'm ok," she replied quietly a few times, gently shrugging off the hold against her arms so
she could push the stray hairs away from her face. When she did, the first thing she noticed
clearly was the eyes of her classmates.

She'd expected fear, maybe even anger at the intrusion on their morning...instead she saw
only amusement and shock. These people had no clue how close the two assassins had been
to proceeding to deadlier moves that could’ve ended up killing one another. She supposed it
was a good thing her friends were not amongst anyone around her, explaining her sudden
ability to take a punch might’ve been a little hard to do at that moment.

It wasn't until the principal came onto the field that Brook and Damian were allowed to stand
on their own. Mr. Morita had first asked if they were both ok, inquiring if either one needed
to go to the nurse's office.

Both declined despite the likely array of blooming bruises under their shirts.

Damian was a good flightier, no doubt a great assassin, of course he too found the principal's
worry laughable. Both of them had likely received worse injuries throughout their life in their
respective guilds than a few bruises here and there.

Mr. Morita's concerned expression morphed then, changed to once of pure undiluted rage
which she might’ve assumed impossible for the composed man a few minutes ago.
"You two. My office. Now" the man said coldly, then turned to all the gathered students,
"And all of you, back inside! The bell will ring in a few minutes and none of you will be
excused from being late! If you don’t want detention, hustle!"

Everyone immediately scattered away in whispers, leaving only Brooklyn, Damian, and the
retreating Principal on the field with only distant footsteps and the sounds of a flock of
Chipping Sparrows flying above.

Not even the warming rays of the sun felt like a comfort in that moment.

It was then that Brook's mistake truly sunk in, that she realized the punishable offense she
had just committed. It was then that she realized how badly she'd messed up.

Sneaking a glance at the boy standing beside her, equally as ruffled and silent, the two shared
a single unspoken glance. The message was clear, neither had won the altercation, but they
may have just lost their spots at Midtown High.

She might've hated him a little more for it.

 Punishment
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn and Damian POV-

The door of the office shut harshly behind them, enough to rattle the walls of the small room
the principal considered his office. Neither teen dared to speak or so much as breathe too
loudly, not until the principal sat down on the other side of the desk after having left them
sitting pitifully on their own for a good ten minutes.

They were probably a sorry sight to behold. The two of them had dried leaf fragments stuck
in their hair, their clothes were wrinkled, and both their knuckles had a pink-ish tint to them
from the punches they’d dealt. Thankfully, the man said nothing of it.

Though Damian had only met the man before him once during his admittance to the school,
that meeting had been filled with more enthusiasm than he deemed necessary. The man had
not stared at him with such disappointment then.

When Brook had met the principal, it had been under similar circumstances as these, awaiting
trial for the stupidest of mistakes. For doing what was in her blood, fighting.

Principal Morita glared down at the two teens slumped before him, slamming his hand on the
wooden table once in the only fit of rage he’d likely let show beyond words. Even the office
ladies visible past the blinds of the windows in the room seemed to flinch from where they
were seated peacefully on their desks, pretending to do work after they had seen the two heirs
escorted to the office.

Brooklyn knew it was coming, but she still scrunched her eyebrows in displeasure as the man
began screaming.

"What is wrong with you two!? My staff found you two fighting! Fighting! This is a school,
not a WWE arena!" the man yelled, just loud enough that both students were both certain
everyone outside in the main office could hear, "You have already been a part of two
altercations since your arrival, Miss Stark. The first I was willing to be lenient on since you
were standing up for a student…and you Mr. Wayne, this is also your second offense. The
first in the locker rooms was only overlooked because many students claimed you were
harassed first"

The man leaned back on his chair with a huff, massaging his temples and then his receding
hairline.

"I understand your families don't exactly get along," he said, bringing his voice down a few
octaves, "but that does not grant you the ability of starting a fight, especially since you two
are some of the brightest students in school. I expected better from you both"
Brooklyn wanted to argue that it had hardly been a fight, clearly both of them had been
holding back their real skills. Had she truly committed to killing Damian...well, she wasn't
entirely sure she would've won, not after that fight, but the teen next to her would've certainly
walked out with more than just a few bruises and a scrape on his arm.

That had been merciful on her part, especially after all he'd said about her dad.

Damian clearly had more years of training than Brook, and had honed those skills throughout
the past few years. The happenings of today only made Brooklyn want to ask Natasha to
expand on the Red Room skills she'd not gotten to learn, just to be a fully skilled Widow.
She'd certainly need it if the Wayne beside her chose to pick another fight since most of the
stuff SHIELD was teaching her was defensive moves.

Meanwhile, Damian couldn't believe someone had stood up against him so well either. Sure,
it was arguable that he’d been a few moves away from winning the battle, but he might as
well have lost the war. His previous belief that he was far more skilled than anyone else out
there—not just of his age group, but above that— was completely shattered after today.

He gladly shut out the disappointment emanating from the principal, it meant nothing really,
Mr. Morita was inconsequential and his opinions were invalid to someone like Damian.
Instead, his mind wandered to what he could do to enhance his skills further to prevent
another close call like this in case he ended up having to fight Brooklyn to fulfill his mission.

It wasn't until the principal spoke up again that both teens almost dropped their jaws on the
floor, at last paying attention to the matter at hand rather than their own grievances.

"I have every right to expel you two," Morita said, holding up a hand to signal both kids to
shut it when they tried to rise to their feet to make an argument, "I could kick you out of this
school on disciplinary misconduct and the school board wouldn't be able to do a thing. But
you two are so much better than this, your teachers constantly tell me that you two are set for
bright futures by academical standards alone"

"So are we receiving a punishment like my first one?" Brook asked, unable to keep some of
the frustration from her voice as she added, "Do we have to join the cheer team this time?"

The principal leaned further back against his plush leather chair, arms crossed along his chest
as his smile grew past the anger and into something confident.

"No, Miss Stark. After much consideration during my walk back here, I realized I don't know
enough about you two to install a proper punishment, much less one that will make you pause
before thinking of starting another fight. So I called in someone else to decide the proper
course of action that you might actually find unpleasant"

Brooklyn almost burst out laughing, thinking the man before her meant the vice principal, a
quiet woman in her final stages of life who always seemed like the type that could do no evil.
Rumor had it Ms. Benton had only one true passion in life, and that was her eighteen cats, all
photographed and hung on the walls of her office.
Would she have Brook pick out new collars for her furry friends? That would be a mistake of
course, when the assassin was young she'd developed an awful relationship with animals.
Often having to fight stray dogs, cats, and even a few rats for food in the run down streets of
New York, Brooklyn learned to despise them all. Especially the strays her ex-boss often
brought into the diner. They reminded her of the days living on the streets with open wounds
and an empty belly.

Unfortunately, it was not the ‘crazy cat lady’ who walked into the office...oh no, that
would've been much better than the two people who made their way inside the small office as
if by an invisible cue.

Both Brooklyn and Damian weren’t the type to be startled easily simply by the nature of their
upbringing, but when the impossible happened that day, neither teen could mask the surprise
from their face.

Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne made their way into the meek high school office with frowns
on their faces, but for once, they were not directed at themselves. Those gazes of haughty
derision and raw anger were directed at the two students who still couldn't believe their eyes
or even move to demand an explanation.

"I called in your parents, and Ms.Benton explained the happenings of this morning to them.
Them being here means an accord was reached on what a proper punishment should be for
the two of you"

Brooklyn stared up at her dad with wide eyes that, though still reflecting the shock of his
presence, were also subtly scanning his body for any injuries he might’ve sustained from his
recent missions. Seeing as her dad was clad in one of his usual business suits, it wasn’t easy
to discern. Somehow, despite it all, Brook was able to find her voice enough to ask him, "I
thought you were going to be busy today? What are you doing here?"

As soon as she blurted out those words, she realized how stupid they sounded. What Brook
had meant to say was that she never imagined her dad— billionaire and hero of the world—in
her mundane school environment. Seeing him here in this tiny office was the last place Brook
expected someone like Iron Man to be.

To her surprise, Tony didn't reply. He merely proceeded to take one of the seats against the
wall to Brook's left, frowning slightly at how uncomfortable they must be. He slowly took off
his trademark shades, leaning back on the small plastic chair as if he owned the office they
stood in.

On the other side of the office, Damian fought hard to keep his expressionless face as such
after his mild slip up, especially as his father took a seat on the chair propped on the other
wall right next to Damian's chair. Unlike Mr. Stark who already made himself at home, Bruce
was clutching his cufflinks annoyance, clearly restless to be here for more than one reason.
Never mind that his heavily muscular form looked comically ridiculous sitting on that small
chair, Damian knew the true discomfort of this evening was the fact that father had been
called in on behalf of the only Wayne child who’d never been sent to the principal’s office.
Damian could admit that in the past he’d done things at Gotham Academy that would’ve
required disciplinary action, but all of his teachers were too afraid of him to ever dare send
him to the office. Even Damian had made his blackmail on the principal very clear early on.
The youngest Wayne had basically ruled that school with an iron fist simply because of his
wits and the influence of last name in Gotham…which is why he never would’ve expected
this scenario to play out with his father staring down at him with arms crossed and a look of
disappointment he must’ve learned from Pennyworth.

Clearly, Midtown High would not be so easily startled by the Prince of the City of Crime.

Though shame did tangle through his mind uncomfortably, Damian Wayne had plenty of
anger of his own to replace it with. Father was supposed to be out tracking the Joker! That
was what mattered most above all else. If anything, Damian had expected that if a call was
made to the manor, either Pennyworth or Grayson would've come.

But here they both were, father and son, silently glaring at one another.

More than that, here were the two most influential men of the century, CEOs to the greatest
companies in the world, stuck on opposing sides of a mundane office with their heirs facing
justice. The sight alone must’ve been nearly surreal to the office ladies sneaking glances
every now and again. What they didn’t know is that the sheer power confined to the small
space was also that of Iron Man, the hero of the planet, and Batman, the protector of Gotham.
Arguably the most famous hero and vigilante known to humankind had been summoned to a
High School that was no doubt too small for their legendary personalities.

Both Brooklyn and Damian couldn't help but think the principal might’ve made a mistake.

"Dad," Brook started, doing her best to look as remorseful as she felt, "Look, what happened
today was not a big deal. You understand, right?"

Stark laughed, but it wasn’t one of his typical boisterous chuckles of amusement. No, even by
the foreign sound alone, Brooklyn recognized it as a sound born from barely restrained anger.
Dad added afterwards, "Obviously I understand Waynes can be insufferable, but I expected
better from you. Fighting at school is unacceptable Brooklyn, and it doesn't much matter how
the fight came about, the issue is that you hit back. You should've known better"

That might as well have been a slap to the face, it certainly hurt more than the small bruise
currently forming on her back. When Brook noticed a small smirk beginning to form on
Damian's lips as he beheld her scolding, the girl kicked his leg as hard and discreetly as she
could.

Mr. Wayne and her dad had a front row seat to the attack from where they sat, the discretion
of the act was meant towards the principal seeing as the man had proven himself fiercely
intelligent in their encounters. The last thing Brooklyn needed was more punishment from
him.

When Damian was about to retaliate back, a deep and strict voice spoke up. A voice
Brooklyn had only heard once before at the Metropolis Gala, only this time the disdain and
authority in it was not directed at either Stark, but at his son.
"Damian," Bruce said, "Where has all your discipline gone? I thought we were past this
behavior, or are you a ten-year-old in need of reprimanding once again?"

At that Damian's eyes shot up, fisting the material of his pants angrily. No one else in the
room would understand the subtle jab his father had mentioned, not when no one knew
Damian had joined his father at the age of ten…a time in which his teachings from the
League were all he had, and it had been many arguments, fights, and constant enforcing of
life lessons later that he’d let go of the unsavory aspects of his past for the most part.

With too many eyes on them, father was discretely scolding Damian for reverting back to
violence. He was dealing a blow to Damian’s pride by insinuating he’d regressed somehow.

"Of course not, father," Damian managed to reply with gritted teeth.

The principal nodded, pleased all teenage banter halted at last, likely why he took the chance
to ask both adults what terms of punishment had been agreed to. The two students were
nervously keeping their downcast gazes on the carpeted ground, hoping the once in a million
year Stark-Wayne teamwork wasn't too harsh on them.

"Both kids won't be attending school tomorrow, Mr. Morita," Bruce announced, at which
point both teens put their differences aside for a few seconds, if only to share a quick glance
blooming with barely restrained amusement.

Damian who’d received plenty of punishments from his father in the past was surprised at
how pathetic this one was. Brooklyn on the other hand, who’d never been grounded by her
dad, was slightly amused that this is all she’d receive. The two figured it was likely because
of that same Stark-Wayne hatred that the two adults had gone easy on their sentence.

How wrong they’d been…

"You would really punish us for fighting on school grounds by missing school? What about
our grades?" Brook asked, not at all seeing where this was going, but she found it highly
illogical.

Tony shot her a half-hearted glare, "Like it's going to affect either of your grades, genius.
Don't whine, when I was your age I'd walk through burning coals to get out of my boring
classes for a day"

"As expected of someone like you, Anthony. Had you been more vigilant in school, perhaps
your child wouldn't be so careless," Bruce said offhandedly, at which point the temporary
truce between both men had completely gone out the window.

"I know you're getting old and all, must be affecting you vision, but your son is here too
buddy" Tony replied, likely would've continued the banter had it not been for the principal
clearing his throat, glaring at the two adults now instead of the teens.

Though neither one of them said a word, the subtle look between both teenagers said it all.
Both agreed their principal had some guts to stand up to both their dads, maybe he had more
backbone than either had expected. Such a theory was proven by the picture frames around
his desk that Brook had failed to notice before. A military man, no wonder Mr. Morita had
such unexpected bravery.

Brook's dad rubbed a finger on his temple, placing his blue-tinted shades inside his suit
pocket before turning back to the two assassins. If he was putting them away, Brooklyn
figured he didn’t intend to start a fight with the Wayne, not when he couldn’t ask FRIDAY to
summon the Iron Man suit without them.

"Though it pains me to say it my sweet daughter, you will be bestowed with the worst
punishment the two of us could come up with. Seeing as your crimes were severe, you two
troublesome kids will spend a day doing some community service together," Stark said, not
sounding happy about it at all, but he did seem the slightest bit satisfied when Brook stood
from her seat in outrage just as Damian did.

Both of the teens glared at one another, fingers pointed in blame between them as if they
couldn't quite process what spending time together was. That punishment went beyond the
scoldings and possible expulsion they’d been expecting...being forced to do an activity
together was probably something neither had considered but now considered the worst case
scenario. How could their parents be willing to let that kind of punishment take place when
there was no one out there that knew how deep the distaste between their families went.

They’d be miserable…and if they dared to be dramatic about it, this felt an awful lot like
being given a death sentence in court. Distantly, Brook could recognize that this was meant to
be a punishment, she supposed that they’d probably picked the best one given the
circumstances. Her parents and the principal wanted them to suffer, what better way than to
put the two together for a day?

But even so, both teens had faith that if their parents were reminded of why that would be
such a bad idea (considering both adults were aware the enemy child was an assassin) maybe
the punishment could be changed into something more reasonable.

Brooklyn faced her father, all snark and flare gone out the window as she briefly considered
begging on her knees for mercy. One thing was for sure, she was desperate to avoid this
course of action even if she knew she was guilty of breaking the school rules.

"Dad, I think you need to reconsider. I don't want to spend more time with him, that's what
caused this entire mess in the first place" she couldn’t help but shout out, pointing a finger to
the demon beside her.

"I know. This isn't about what you want, it's a punishment," Stark replied calmly, "I'm usually
the best dad in the world, I know, but you've forced me to put my foot down. Especially since
Pepper is busy at work and she's usually the one enacting the necessary discipline"

Briefly, Brook was momentarily horrified at the reminder her mom would hear of what
happened today, but at least she wasn’t here. Still, knowing she’d likely let the kind woman
down was a sobering thought that finally reduced her shouting to a defeated murmur.

"But dad, it wasn't as bad as you think, I promise—"

Brook was about to say some excuse about it being Damian's fault, which she fully believed
it was. If that failed, she’d planned to remind him of her own skills in battle so he’d realize
she’d kept all deadly blows at bay, only engaging in fighting that would result in minor
injuries. As far as Brooklyn was concerned, that restraint should be something he could be
proud of, but her dad raised a hand to silence her before Brook could try and bring it up.

"Brooklyn, the adults are talking. You best listen and accept your fate before we’re forced to
make both your punishments worse than they already are for making a scene at the principal’s
office," her dad said, leaving Brook utterly flabbergasted.

She was an assassin of the Red Room, its deadly trained heiress, but now she was nothing
more than a teenager getting scolded by her dad. As far as power went, she had none now.
With a sigh, the girl sank back into her plush seat with arms crossed, not caring about how
childish the act must've looked.

Brook was in the wrong today, that much was obvious. Just because her dad hadn’t enacted
punishments like those of the Red Room for mistakes she’d made lately clearly didn't mean
he was above grounding his daughter in a painless yet equally displeasing way.

Damian was not done fighting though, he looked Bruce straight in the eye as if he was about
to command his own father to bestow another punishment. It wouldn’t be the first time. The
man must've known that's where Damian's thoughts were headed, because he too stood up,
large frame almost obscuring the sun outside the small window behind him.

The glare he shot his son was one the young boy recognized as the unwavering look Batman
got when enacting justice against a criminal. Being on the receiving end of it wasn’t as easy
to brush off as Damian had predicted.

Even Brook couldn't find it in herself to laugh at Damian's predicament, but she didn't feel
bad for him either, even if Mr. Wayne truly was a terrifying thing to behold.

"Damian! You knew I'd be preoccupied these days, and you still caused trouble in school. It
seems you have forgotten all I've taught you. What is it that you are meant to follow above all
else when a conflict arises? What is the only thing you are supposed to fight for?"

The room was silent for a few seconds, until Damian's voice softly ground out, "Justice, not
vengeance"

Bruce scoffed, somehow still managing to look composed and stoic despite his personal
distress.

"What was this fight about then, justice or vengeance?" Damian's father asked, to which the
teen answered with a drop of venom, "Vengeance, father"

The man finally settled back into his own seat, one clearly not meant to accommodate for his
muscled frame that groaned with the effort to stay intact. Brook tried to find the comedic
relief from it, but one glare from Bruce Wayne directed her way, and the teen's rising smile
was gone.
"Then it's only fitting that you are punished, or do you believe you can be exempt from this?"
Bruce asked, at which point Damian dared look his father in the eyes with nothing short of
contempt, "No, father"

Both teens slouched on their seats, scolded and humiliated.

Brooklyn had never been disciplined by her otets, ever, even if their time together hadn't been
long, Tony still had plenty of things he could've reprimanded her on, but chose not to. He was
the one of her two parents that was always at ease, the one Brook thought had no idea how to
even come up with a proper discipline method.

For a time, Brooklyn figured she didn't know how to ever be grounded like a normal teen any
more than her parents knew how to ground. Apparently, she'd been wrong. Tony had not
buckled or succumbed to his adoration for her, which only made the severity of her actions
all the more apparent with each passing second. In a way, this felt like a failure not just to
prove herself as a good SHIELD agent, but as a worthy daughter. In time she too expected
that there was no getting out of this, and as much as she despised it, she’d take the
punishment if only to try and remedy things between her and her parents.

"What kind of community service are we talking about? Picking up trash on separate ends of
a street? Maybe helping out at booths of a fair?" Brook dared to ask, but suddenly grew
terrified at the sight of her father's victorious smirk.

"I was stuck in a room with Brucy for half an hour because of what happened, your
punishment will be more severe than that," Tony said, and then after he caught the principal
frowning at the words, her dad added, "and for starting a fight in school of course, that was
very bad of you"

"You two will go to the Academy of Building Blocks, a preschool here in Queens," Bruce
stated, voice strong and true as he sat poised on his small chair like he was stating a business
proposal, "You will spend the entirety of the school day volunteering with anything Mrs.
Campbell will need. The arrangements have been made, and you two will be expected to be
in your best behavior and work together to do as you're told"

A preschool? Was this some sort of joke?

The location had to be her dad's idea, he knew children were her weakness from the
aftermath of the Red Room days, knew that she would not dare start a scene with little ones
around…even with a Wayne present. Despite all the admiration and respect she had for the
man, Brooklyn couldn’t help but mentally curse him in every language she knew.

"You want us to tend to little children like their personal slaves? I don't think so, much less if
I have to do it with her around," Damian muttered. The young Stark looked just about ready
to tell him where he could shove that attitude of his, but her dad gently kicked her leg in
warning.

In the way that Brooklyn despised animals, Damian felt mutually about children. In his eyes,
they were useless creatures that needed to be protected and coddled, not to mention they were
small germ vessels. It was ironic really, that one assassin loved animals but hated kids, while
the other felt the complete opposite.

But at this moment, neither was happy with the situation, and the principal saw it clear as day
and relished in it.

"It's either you fulfill that punishment, or you are both expelled, which I would believe to be
incredibly hindering considering you two are meant to inherit big companies in the future.
Getting expelled from High School does not look good on any college application in case you
weren't already aware" the principal said, once again proving to be a master manipulator
when it suited him.

Both teens were left with no other option than to nod in agreement, almost flinching when
they heard the bell ring along the halls outside the office space.

Had they really been in here that long? It must've been so, because the sound of opening
lockers and passing students soon became like a muffled song across the principal's office.

"So how will tomorrow work then?" Brooklyn asked, already resigned to what would no
doubt be the worst day of her life.

Her dad sighed, clearly troubled to see his daughter so unhappy, but he pushed past that for
the sake of doing his paternal duty somehow as he explained, "Brucy agreed to have someone
drop off his son outside of your apartment complex tomorrow morning. You two will walk to
the bus station nearby, five stops from there is the kindergarten building, which you must
arrive at together as part of your punishment. If you fight on your way there or during the
volunteering, we'll know, and then you'll have to go back to again the next day"

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

"Mrs.Campbell will instruct you on how to help around her class, and after the school day is
over, you are to help make sure all kids get back to their families safely. She will be keeping
an eye on you at all times, and if you so much as raise your voices, or try to subtly kick each
other like you did a few minutes ago, then you will have to go back until she deems you a
cohesive work unit, not a burden to her classroom" Bruce added, and Damian though that
was probably the longest his father had ever spoken seeing as he was usually as a man of few
words…fewer when he wore the cowl mask.

Since tomorrow would already be a bust, Brooklyn decided that she might as well enjoy the
afternoon with her friends today. Knowing Damian and how likely they were to fail their
assignment a few times due to his conduct, she might not get to hang out with them for a
while.

But...she wouldn't have been able to anyways, because she had SHIELD training tomorrow!
She was supposed to go back there for the weekend with her family as per usual, something
she hadn’t considered earlier. It was a long shot, but at this point she saw it more as a viable
concern rather than a way to get out of her punishment.
"Dad, but what about...the appointment I have for tomorrow, surely I can't miss that," she
muttered as vaguely as possible.

Tony was way ahead of her though, he tapped his transparent phone screen a few times
against his leg as if in victory of having thought that far ahead.

"Already canceled. You're sticking to this Brook, the only way out it now rests on your good
behavior…both of yours" he replied, and with that somber reminder, the assassin was certain
she'd never see school or her friends ever again, she might as well just enroll in the
kindergarten class since she'd be spending an eternity there.

The principal beheld the four people in his once serene office, probably thinking of a way to
kick them out at last now that the matter was settled and a fight hadn’t yet risen from adults.
Thankfully, since Brooklyn didn't want to miss another class, or spend more time here, she
stood up and grabbed her backpack.

Thinking back to her time in the Red Room, not for the first time since she'd been shoved
into this office, the teen remembered the times when fighting with another trainee were
punished but never frowned upon.

Besides, one knew what they were getting into back then. Even if she had been the one being
attacked, which was mostly the case where Brooklyn was concerned, she never found
purpose in actively attacking others unless instructed to do so. Yet there was always a price to
pay for holding back against any enemy.

A sprained wrists, and five lashings.

That was the standard punishment for a display of violence, one she would gladly take on
right now rather than the torture her otets and Mr. Wayne had concocted. Still, the girl
realized all her behavior from now on would be noted with great care, so she kept her eyes on
the principal as she said, "I apologize for causing such trouble. It was not my intention to
disturb the peace, only to beat the..." no, she shouldn't go there, "only to settle some things
pending with the Wayne. It won’t happen again"

At least not on school grounds.

Damian on the other hand had no interest or even the ability to apologize for this situation. It
wasn’t in his blood to play games that swayed the opinions people had on him, even if it
would have long term benefits. There was only his rage and shame. Thus why he chose to
merely grab his own belongings and stand up as well, waiting for them to be dismissed
properly.

The principal leaned forward on his desk, papers in hand as he nodded at everyone present in
the room. Satisfied with the course of action.

"I suggest you two hurry up and get to history class, the ladies outside will hand you hall
passes for class in case your parents want to say a few words before they leave," he said to
the students, then turned to the parents who did not look as livid as they had when they
walked in, "I also thank you for coming on such short notice, I hope I won't have to take up
any more of your precious time again"

Both men shook the principal's hand, but both seemed to have a mental consensus not to
apologize for their children's actions. Brooklyn had expected her dad to do it, but he just
escorted her out of the office with a hand comfortably resting on her arm.

Damian and his father followed behind, but they did so separately.

Once hall passes were obtained from the starstruck office ladies, the four were sent out into
the halls flooding with students. Seeing both Iron Man and the famed Bruce Wayne in their
midsts must've been quite a shock, because the clusters of teens stopped on their tracks to
gawk as they passed by.

Brooklyn had to fight the urge to roll her eyes as her dad began smiling and waving at her
peers like a movie star might. His friendly aura caught the attention of many who approached
him for a quick autograph on their backpacks or a quick photo with the esteemed hero.

This was ridiculous. Brooklyn had just come out of that office with the worst punishment of
her life and her dad was playing paparazzi?

Beside her, no one approached either Wayne, the students mostly stared as if they were
beholding a one of a kind painting that could not be touched. Damian even noticed some
classmates speed up their pace at the sight of the terrifyingly stoic duo, those baseball boys
who thought they could mess with him after gym that first day to be more specific. Pathetic.

Soon, a crowd of eager students huddled around them with notebooks in hand, phones
flashing, and many people screaming her dad's name like a mantra. After the shitty day she'd
just had, Brooklyn wasn't willing to put up with it, so she took hold of her dad's arm and led
him away from everyone, both Waynes following silently.

The presence of Gotham’s notorious royalty actually helped part the crowd, their reclusive
and unfriendly natures coming in handy for once.

Once the crowd had thinned and both teens stood before their proximate lockers, each parent
turned to face their respective kid.

Tony watched as his daughter fetched a book from within her locker, a small space which
was decorated with polaroids of Brook and a group of kids in various locations. The photos
had been a gift from Tanya since she made a point to take photos of the group when they
went out after Decathlon practice without fail. Though Brooklyn would likely never admit it,
the sight of her friends did brighten her spirits every time she made a stop to her locker. She
finally understood why kids her age bothered decorating the spaces in the first place.

Tony leaned in close to whisper, "Here’s the deal, if Pepper asks, I never said this...but please
tell me you beat Wayne Jr's ass"

Brooklyn was stunned by his words, even more so the hopeful look in his eyes not visible to
the pair behind her father or the river flow of passing students behind her.
"Technically I lost the fight, but I got more hits in. Did you see his bruised arms? That boy is
gonna have an awful ache forming on his side tonight that won’t let him sleep" Brooklyn
said, trying to hide her own amusement if only because her dad practically betrayed her with
the clever punishment earlier.

Tony smiled, subtly patting her on the back once as he whispered, "That's my girl"

"Yeah, one that has to spend more time with that demon" she whispered back harshly, trying,
and failing, not to slam her locker.

Her dad still waved at a few passing students to keep up appearances, but he leaned in to
whisper back, "You'll get over it. Everyone gets in trouble in High School, kid, no matter how
high and mighty they might be. It's practically like a right of passage of teenagehood"

Brook scoffed, leaning against her closed locker, "Sure, but my passage to teenagehood now
has Damian Wayne in it. Something tells me I'll likely never come back to this school again
because I'll be stuck practically taking preschool for the first time with a Wayne!"

Thankfully, none of the passing students heard her slightly raised comment.

"Right, I guess you never got a chance to experience nap time and recess," Tony mused,
placing an arm on her shoulder, "Maybe you'll like it, I'm sure I did when I was young.
Though I gotta say, being in a High School hallway is bringing back a lot of memories,
mostly of girls though and you're too young to hear about that yet. But did you know that one
time I got in trouble for mixing up a self-igniting Molotov cocktail from what was available
in the Chemistry lab?"

Brooklyn was not surprised in the least, slapping his shoulder with her hand in a friendly
manner she was now accustomed to. He was trying to make her feel better after all, and no
matter how much she despised her punishment, even she could admit that the situation had
backed him into an uncomfortable corner. The fact that he wasn’t screaming her head off was
already relief enough as it was.

“Why did you do it?” she asked while placing her navy sweater back in place.

Dad’s smirk widened, “A dare from a pretty girl”

The pair shared a near silent chuckle as if the events of a few minutes ago were already
forgotten, something she supposed was only possible due to her father’s easy going nature.
As much as he hated to admit it, hearing he too had gotten in trouble now and again did make
her less aggravated over her mistake.

Then a sweet voice suddenly spoke up behind her, one she'd recognize anywhere.

“Brook?”

When the girl turned around, she beheld Peter standing there with books in hand, his worried
gaze on her despite the flow of students bumping against his backpack every now and again
in the crowded space.
"Hey Pete," she replied casually, actually glad to see him after all that had occurred. His
calming and gentle presence was already working wonders to help her forget the anger that
remained in her system.

Peter hesitantly moved closer, looking at her upper collar bone where a small scape was
visible. He looked down at her with pained concern, gentle doe eyes widening even when the
injury was practically nothing seeing as it was likely caused by a stray branch rather than
from the teen a few lockers down.

"Are you alright? I heard what happened but by the time we made it outside the principal had
already taken you in! I was so worried for you, especially when I heard you were fighting
Damian—who I know you don't really like—then some kids mentioned seeing you in the
office and Tanya texted us saying you weren't back in class yet and I thought..."

Brooklyn cut him off with an amused laugh, completely forgetting her dad was around when
she placed a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder right where his patterned collared shirt
met the soft fabric of his favorite gray sweater.

"Don't worry, I'm perfectly fine. I'll tell you guys all about it during lunch so no one
complains they heard everything first, we don't want a repeat of the pencil sharpener story
again" she said, and at last her best friend seemed to relax, pulling her into a quick hug. A
habit of his when he was worried, one she'd noticed lately when she’d begun to ease around
others’ touch and her friends had become bolder with their affection since.

The clearing of a throat behind them almost made Brooklyn's face turn as bright as a beet.

Her dad was staring at the two teens with arms crossed and shades back on, but he said
nothing. Beside her, Peter's eyes went wide and he reached out a shaking hand that her father
took without hesitation.

This is definitely not how she wanted the two to meet.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I...I'm Peter Parker and I just hugged your daughter because I was
worried and she looked upset, please don't kill me sir" Peter stammered, earning a low
chuckle from Tony at last.

"Please, no need for formalities, Mr. Parker. You're my intern after all, I'm just glad to finally
meet the best friend my daughter has been talking about and texting non-stop these past few
weeks. All the time it's Peter would do this or Peter would like that"

If Brooklyn could die in that moment, she'd do so without a second thought. If she’d be given
the choice to have a mutant ability, she’d definitely choose something that let her phase
through the ground to escape this most unexpected scenario.

Before her otets could humiliate her any further in front of her friend, she pulled Peter back
with her hands accidentally intertwining with his.

"Don't you have to go to Engineering class? The bell will ring in a few minutes, so I'll see
you next period, ok?" she said urgently, earning a nervous nod from Peter as he squeezed her
hand once then practically speed walked down the hallway with an awkward farewell to her
dad.

Slowly turning back to the smirking man, Brooklyn whined, "Was that necessary?"

Her dad was already chuckling, such a contrast to the person he’d been inside the principal’s
office.

"I didn't do anything, I was just meeting your friend!" Tony said, arms raised.

With a roll of her eyes, Brooklyn fetched her backpack from the floor and turned in the
direction of her next class. She supposed that as far as embarrassment went, that hadn’t been
too bad. The chances of Peter ending their friendship because of her dad’s mild antics were
probably still zero.

"Are you sure you can make it back to the front of the school alright?" she asked.

Tony sighed, reaching into his pocket for the car remote that would no doubt bring his Audi
out to the front, self-parked by the entrance ready for her dad to drive back to the Compound.
If that's even where he was going. There were many missions Brook was not privy to due to
her trainee status, but she knew the Avengers were still hard at work trying to find leads to
other mass shipments of alien weapons.

Brook really hoped she hadn’t interrupted something important.

"Of course," he replied, "Just make sure not to get into any more trouble, and expect a
disciplinary video call from Pepper and I tonight. She'll probably have a few words to say
about you behavior, in which I won't be able to express my pride in your actions against the
Wayne"

That she wasn't looking forward to.

Getting yelled at by Pepper, well...it was disappointing Pepper that made Brook's stomach
sink once again. The last thing she wanted to do was cause distress for her mom when she
was so busy trying to keep Stark industries in good shape.

“I suppose mom had every right to be mad,” she muttered.

“Pepper will yell at you because she cares for your well being, don’t think for a second her
love for you will diminish because of a simple issue at school” dad said, voice suddenly more
serious than it had been since they left the office. As if he wanted to stress how the events of
today had not created a dent in her title as their daughter…for both of them.

Again, it seemed dad knew exactly what to say to ease her troubled mind.

Though she did not voice it, Brooklyn couldn't help the small smile that bloomed across her
face when she realized the other thing her otets had said. I won't be able to express my pride
in your actions against the Wayne. Was that truly a compliment on her actions? Brooklyn
didn't get to find out, because her dad quickly placed a kiss atop her ruffled red hair, then
lazily strolled down the hall after shouting back, "A pleasure to see you again, Brucy!"
Brooklyn didn't bother looking back at the father-son pair near Damian's locker as she
strolled down the other hallway, hell bent on getting to class and avoiding everyone's curious
gazes for the rest of the day.

While Brook had been talking to her dad though, Damian and Bruce had also held a brief
conversation of sorts. As soon as Damian had opened up his locker, stuffing his unused book
and jacket neatly into the undecorated space, his father began to talk after many minutes of
silence between the two of them.

"What happened to you having everything under control for this mission?" Bruce asked
harshly.

To say Damian was displeased with the tone of reprimand from his father would be an
understatement. Of course, Bruce had chosen to take his fatherly duties seriously at a time his
son would've preferred him not to. Grayson would've at least left the harsh reprimands for a
time in the privacy of the manor, not a school hallway with dozens of curious yet distant ears
passing by.

Though no one would likely hear a word that was said, the image of the father and son duo
visibly arguing would surely spread like wildfire for the rest of the day. An unfortunate
consequence of today’s events.

"I do have everything under control," Damian whispered back harshly, "You on the other
hand haven't caught the Joker yet, have you? I'd say that out of the two of us you're the one in
need of a reprimand"

Bruce was clearly fighting the instinct to slam his hand on the lockers beside them, which
given the man’s strength would no doubt dent the metal forever. Thankfully, he settled for
that familiar glare often meant for criminals and enemies instead.

"You will perform your punishment, and you will not get in trouble at school ever again. You
understand me?"

Damian nodded, but his usual frown almost faltered when he turned to look away from his
father, only to behold the sight of the Parker boy reaching the Starks past his father's frame.
Though his dad was still expecting an answer, Damian's gaze caught on to the distant
conversation he could not hear.

During these past few days, he'd noticed the close friendship Stark and Parker shared. From
his research he’d learned that they lived in the same apartment building, and thus walked to
and from school together. During the classes that they shared they were always together,
according to Jon and his own personal observations of gym class.

Parker himself was a rather docile being, but with the reputation of being one of the smartest
minds at this school. Damian seriously doubted that was true if he was friends with that
murderous assassin.

The Wayne watched silently as Mr. Stark and Parker shook hands, an exchange that made the
Red Room assassin's cheeks change color from its normal fair shade towards something
closer to the rogue lipstick she favored. Blushing...she was blushing. He'd like to think his
gaze lingered on the sight because of the possible weakness he could use against the Stark,
but briefly, his mind wondered what shades of pain he'd have to mix to achieve that exact
color.

It was a maddening thought, one he despised himself for having at a time like this when his
mind should be wondering what shades to mix to achieve the color of her blood in case
tomorrow resulted in another fight.

"Are you even listening to me?" Bruce asked harshly, managing to make some passing
students flinch by the tone alone.

Damian was not afraid in the least, he was angry. Bruce had played a part in his severe
punishment, and though he was slightly displeased for disappointing his father...that kind of
discipline had been out of line.

Taking out his brand new history book, the boy slammed his locker shut loud enough that the
sound resonated above the conversations and drum-like steps around them, shooting a glare
at any lingering students who'd stopped to watch. Once the nameless students scurried away
from the hall like rats in a sewer, Damian deigned to reply, "I've noted your displeasure,
father. But it seems that you have not noticed my own"

Bruce stood there, a mountain of unwavering strength until both Waynes heard a booming
laugh in the distance while waiting to see who broke first. They both turned to see Mr. Stark
was the source of that joy, placing a kiss atop his daughter's head with a small yet fond
smile.

Bruce ignored Stark's passing farewell comment, just like Damian ignored his father as used
the distraction to begin the walk down the hall towards his class, one where Stark Jr was
already heading.

Damian felt a new kind of unexpected rage at seeing a father still managing to show his child
affection after making a mistake. Of course Bruce had been patient with many of Damian's
earlier attitudes when he was a kid, but he wasn't exactly the hugging type.

It didn't matter of course, Damian hated hugs anyways, he was just upset Brooklyn was not
receiving the same scolding that he was for the same crime. That was all.

Just as he’d begun to walk away, Damian head father say behind him, "When you get back to
the manor today, your mother and I will have a serious talk with you"

Damian paused his steps, scoffing loudly in the now emptying hallway as he shouted back,
"Talia is my mother, not your harlot the feline. As for the rest of your statement, you should
put that time to better use, I'll be home late anyways"

The young Wayne didn't turn back to bid farewell to his father, he just made his way down
the hall and climbed up the stairs as quickly as he could, fighting the urge to just ditch school
entirely after all that had occurred. He could’ve done it, but he knew that if the Stark did not
see him in class, she might consider that a victory on her part, as if had scared him away.
The thought only darkened his already sour move.

Once in class, which Damian had managed to get to seconds before the bell rang, the teen
hesitantly took his seat next to the girl who had gotten him in trouble in the first place. She
shot him glare during the walk to his seat, but otherwise, they went back to ignoring each
other as the lesson began.

They only exchanged one hesitant sentence each when a peer discussion had begun, and it
wasn’t about the historical assignment they were meant to be debating.

"This is all your fault, so I expect you don't mess this up for us tomorrow," Brooklyn had
whispered angrily, at which Damian replied with equal kindness, "Hope spouting those
falsehoods made you feel better, because it's you who will likely mess it all up"

It was after that incredibly tense history class that Damian bothered looking at his phone, if
only to ignore the awkwardness of both he and Brook heading the same direction towards the
gym.

He despised sharing so many classes with her, especially after what had occurred earlier and
the promise of their shared punishment tomorrow.

Surprisingly, it was not Jon who had texted Damian as expected, but his siblings.

Message from Timothy Drake:

I heard you got in trouble and that Bruce is headed your way. He'll be in a poor mood
because of the Joker mission, Harley Quinn was spotted out of Arkham as well. Though you
likely deserve all the punishment coming your way, I'd ignore Bruce’s words if I were you.

Damian was quick to delete that message despite the useful information within the mockery.

Message from Jason Todd:

The prodigal son got in trouble @ school? Bruce mentioned it was because you fought the
Stark girl, good for you. If you're gonna get in trouble at least it was by putting a Stark in her
place.

Now that Bruce isn't around, I can perform the search my way, your timing couldn't have
been more convenient, demon spawn. Thanks for the assist.

Damian wanted to hurl his phone against the wall. Both Drake and Todd were insufferable
and thought he’d probably said worse to them, right now was not the time for Damian to hear
any more criticism. Yet before he could turn off his phone indefinitely, he noticed there were
still unopened messages from someone else.

Message from Richard Grayson:

I know you're probably extremely upset right now for many reasons., but don't beat yourself
up about getting in trouble at school. We've all done it in the past.
I once got in trouble for placing a whoopee cushion on a teacher's chair. Bruce had to come
into the office that day for me. You didn't hear this from me, but Tim once got called into the
office for hacking into the Pentagon during math class, and Jason got into a fight with
someone who called him a street rat once. Even Steph got in trouble for throwing a raging fit
during Father's Day at school.

None of us are upset, we're honestly surprised it took you this long to be sent to the
principal's office since we were all there so often. Just focus on school, little D. Don’t sweat
the small stuff.

Though Damian would never admit it to a single soul, including himself, that HAD eased
some unrest in him, enough so that he managed to get through the rest of the school day in
relative peace. It was a horrible habit of Grayson’s to meddle into everyone's matters, to try
and fix things. Unfortunately, most of the time he was successful…just like today.

During art club, he'd managed to take out the last of his emotions on the canvas. This time,
his art had taken another surprising turn.

He drew a bridge, using up most of the golden paint available in the class just to get every
detail right. It was a golden version of the Brooklyn bridge, the water below it running red
like blood.

"Interesting," the teacher had whispered, "The Brooklyn Bridge depicted in gold, but why is
the water red, Mr. Wayne?"

He'd shrugged, but knew where he'd seen a golden bridge like that before. During his fight
with the Stark, he'd noticed she'd worn a golden necklace just like the one on his canvas. It
was one of the same bridge, delicate and not at all as elegant or expensive as he’d expect a
billionaire's daughter to favor, which is why it had caught his attention.

Damian still had no clue as to why every time he was asked to draw his emotions, that
absolute menace of a girl showed up in one way or another. It was frustrating to say the least,
even more so when he realized who he'd have to spend his day with tomorrow.

Because of those blooming discomforts, he'd foregone his usual mission duties to see what
the Stark girl would be doing after school. It would've been boring anyways, Jon heard
during lunch that she and her friends were going to a movie after Decathlon practice.

So despite mentioning he’d be home late, Damian snuck back into the manor and remained
locked in his room doing homework with Titus and Alfred the Cat as his sole company.
Pennyworth had tried to talk him out of there, only to leave after a few failed attempts when
bringing dinner.

There was only Damian and the weeping sound of the strings of his violin as he played the
most difficult and intense pieces he was familiar with before the large windows of his room,
an eerie light cast like a spotlight on him amidst the darkness of his room by the present full
moon in the distance.
Not even the intensity of each piece was able to sum up the anger and frustration in his soul,
nor did it distract him from what tomorrow would bring, yet he kept playing until his fingers
went numb and the aches from the various bruises across his body guided him to bed at last.

Thankfully, everyone was so busy tracking the slippery Gotham criminals that when
everyone made it back home, Pennyworth mentioned they'd all gone straight to bed when
dropping off some warm tea. Damian had still made sure to leave early in the morning before
any of them woke up the next day, if only to avoid Bruce's supposed pending conversation.

Brooklyn on the other hand had not been able to avoid the inevitable scolding from her mom.
As soon as the girl made it back home from the movies, FRIDAY had turned on the large TV
in the living room, which displayed both her parents in the Avengers conference room.

Pepper had clearly stated her disappointment for her actions, but didn't provide further
punishment, which Brook was glad for. Once the assassin had apologized profoundly, an act
she did not do lightly, all seemed to be relatively good between the three of them.

A few of the Avengers had taken a peek in during the conversation as well. Natasha had told
Brook she'd done an irresponsible thing, but when Pepper wasn't looking, her sestra shot her
a wink that could very well have been a sign of amusement rather than approval.

Clint was not shy to express his own approval of her actions as an experienced father,
claiming she was standing up for herself, which was a good thing to do. Suffice to say Wanda
used her magic to levitate him out of the room before Pepper could turn her passive wrath on
him as well.

Others were just as unhappy as Brook's mom was, of course.

"Not every issue is resolved through conflict," Grandpa Steve had said while taking to seat
next to Pepper, "I'm glad you will be given the chance to spend time with Bruce's kid, maybe
you two can talk it out then"

Brooklyn sunk into her couch, wrapped in the comfort of her blue thrown-on as she glared at
the TV.

"Uncle Sam once said that during your childhood you used to fight people in alleys a lot, that
you never backed down from a fight. How is this any different? I was attacked, so I fought
back" Brook argued, causing the once authoritative Steve on the screen to stammer over his
words, ignoring the smirk Tony flashed his way before leaving the room with a pout of
defeat.

With that small victory, Brooklyn claimed exhaustion, saying she'd need to sleep early if she
was going to spend all day tomorrow around children and Damian Wayne. Her parents had
been understanding, and despite Pepper's earlier frustrations, she blew Brook a kiss and
wished her a good night.

It was a good night, peaceful actually. That was until the girl woke up to her alarm early,
realizing what would be expected of her instead of going to school. She wondered if the
 aching bruises across her body from yesterday’s fight could be used as an excuse, which was
highly unlikely.

By the time she'd showered, eaten, and screamed around the apartment for a few minutes
over the sound of blasting music to ease her displeasure, the buzzer from the main gate went
off.

Already dreading who it was, Brooklyn went over to the wall next to her apartment door,
placing a finger on the comms device only to hear an equally annoyed voice on the other
side.

"I'm not waiting around for you, Stark. Let's just go and get this over with," Damian said as a
way of greeting. Brook actually wondered what on earth had motivated that demon to
actually get up this morning, she at least hoped the injuries she’d bestowed on him had made
the act difficult.

Brooklyn didn't bother buzzing him in, content to let the teen wait outside on the sidewalk for
his attitude. It was a chilly morning, maybe the cold wind could freeze his brain enough to
keep him silent for the rest of the day. At least that's what she hoped would happen.

Today would most definitely be a very long day...

Chapter End Notes

As always, remember to stay positive and know that you are cared for.
 The Pre-school Alliance
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

"Though I'd love to see Bruce Wayne suffer any day, and I would likely give my entire
fortune just to see him have to walk naked all along Times Square, I urge you to think of
yourself today," her dad said just as Brook descended down the last step of the building.

The Stark pressed the phone between her ear and shoulder as she adjusted the sleeves of her
gray sweater one handedly, a skill she was glad to possess at a moment like this. Not that
Brook was in a rush of any sort, but she’d be damned if there was a single imperfection with
her outfit her enemy could call her out on.

Then again, she’d chosen a skirt for today paired with cozy tights in hopes that the cold might
distract her from lunging at him throughout the day. Unfortunately, her coat was doing
wonders to keep her warm, and her youth spent in Russian winters made her almost immune
to the cold’s cruel kiss.

Now out in the impeccable grass-filled space before her apartment, it was really dawning on
Brooklyn that she was about to spend an entire day with a Wayne. It almost made her want to
turn back around, but the promise of further punishment is what actually willed her feet
forward. Getting expelled from Midtown would be a blow to her academic record and
possible future as the next CEO of Stark Industries…but more importantly at the moment, it
would distance her from the group of friends she’d come to trust and care for. Somehow
losing them seemed like a much more troubling loss.

"I'm not going to kill him despite what you all think. I know I messed up, but that doesn't
make this punishment any less idiotic," Brook argued, puffs of warm air forming before her
against the chilling morning air, "Seriously, how did the Stark-Wayne brains manage to put
that plan together without killing one another?"

Her dad laughed on the other end of the line, and Brooklyn could've sworn she heard the
other Avengers laughing distantly in the same room. She wondered if they’d put missions
aside in case they needed to rush over to prevent the murder of Wayne Jr. If they had claimed
a day off for that reason…Brook wasn’t sure she could live with the shame of it all.

"You better not make me go back into a school office with Brucy ever again, that was
torture," Tony replied just as she made it to the main gate where Damian was already waiting
with arms crossed...and Peter and Harry standing before him...talking.

The sight of which had alarm bells ringing in her head and her steps quickening across the
lush grounds.
"Gotta go dad," Brook interrupted, staring at the scene in an emotion she could only pinpoint
as absolute horror, "I'll call you when I'm done, love you guys"

The other end of the line was filled with wishes for luck and cheers from the Avengers—plus
a warning from Pepper to behave—but Brook's focus had mainly been on her friends, who
thankfully seemed unharmed for now.

Then before she could hang up the line, Brooklyn heard Pepper, Tony and Nat yelled a
Russian farewell, "Udachi!"

Brooklyn realized she WOULD need that good luck, especially if Damian Wayne had done
anything to her friends. The ex-assassin quickly hung up the phone and speed walked the rest
of he distance to the open gates as fast as she could without displaying any of her internal
panic.

Pete was the first of her two friends to spot her, so he was the first to walk away and meet her
halfway with an embrace. Brooklyn was now used to affection and physical touch to an
extent, she didn't often shy from it if it was from individuals she trusted, but this hug
definitely caught her off guard.

His usual delicacy that he always treated Brook with, as if he thought she was made of glass,
was now replaced by an embrace she could actually feel. Something almost desperate, like he
wanted to transfer as much comfort as possible in the ten seconds their embrace lasted, was
what made Brooklyn freeze.

Once Peter retreated back a bit, Brook looked up at the sweet friend and dared to ask, "What
was that about?"

"It's for good luck. I know today will be difficult for you, so I thought a hug might help" he
said with a gentle smile, almost looking bashful with his ‘intense’ form of affection.

It was then that Brook was filled with that recurring thought, or theory more like, that if only
the world was filled with people like Peter Parker, then it might truly be a great place to live
in after all...

Hesitantly, Brooklyn rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his comforting scent that
now clung to the jacket she'd given him long ago. He wore it every day, and now it smelled
like a Bunsen burner, something akin to vanilla, and his very distinct sandalwood body wash.

Peace. That's what she related the concoction of Peter’s essence to.

"I'll be fine, I just hope you and Harry will forgive me for not being able to make it to lab
today," she said jokingly, but in a way truly meant it. Aside from her dad's complaint about
being stuck in a room with Bruce Wayne, she now understood her actions affected more than
just one person. In this case, her lab partners.

Her other lab partner, Harry, quickly rushed beside them, clutching Brook's arm reassuringly
before handing over a jersey. His spare football jersey he'd lent her last game, free of any sign
of the blood that had gotten on it last time she’d worn it. Not that she’d told him that.
"There's a game tomorrow, and I expect my good luck charm to be there," Harry said with a
devilish smirk, gently pulling her into a hug of his own. His own embraces differed from
Peter’s in the sense that Harry loved to carry and spin his victims around, something he
thankfully didn’t do that morning.

Though Brook made a show of rolling her eyes, she'd wear the jersey again. In fact, she was
already looking forward to spending some time with her friends again, it certainly was a nice
thought to cling to before she had to leave for hell itself.

Speaking of hell…someone had to ruin her borrowed moment of peace.

Somewhere behind her, much closer than he’d been earlier, Damian scoffed rather loudly. He
sauntered over to them with hands tucked in the neat pockets of his suit pants. There was an
expression across his face that she'd never seen before, one she'd yet to categorize. Still, his
indifferent tone was a familiar discomfort as he said, "Luck is an offensive, abhorrent
concept. The idea that there is a force in the universe tilting events in your favor or against it
is ridiculous, Osborn"

Brook pried herself away from Harry so she could glare at Damian properly. She’d almost
forgotten he was here. Though she hated to admit it, she agreed with his way of thinking, but
she would never let Harry think that he was being unreasonable if it hurt him.

After handing Harry back his jersey and her books, she slowly stalked forward to clutch the
straps of Damian's jacket, surprised he was apparently capable of adding red to his usual
black and gray ensemble of clothes for once. Though his teeth gritted at the contact, he didn’t
swat her hands away, choosing instead to wait, likely to see if she’d be the first to make a
mistake today.

When she pulled him down closer to eye level, the Stark quickly noticed the way his feet
shifted into a proper position for battle. It would’ve been flattering that he considered her the
danger she truly could be if it weren't for the fact that fighting was what got them into this
dilemma to begin with.

"Listen to me Wayne," Brook said, fisting her hands around the folds of the jacket and
meeting his deadly glare with equal intensity, "I don't like this trip any more than you do, but
I don't want to have to go back to a class full of children over and over with you. So don't
antagonize my friends, and maybe then we can start our torturous day without a fight that
will get us into more trouble"

Damian scoffed, at last pushing her hands away from him and turning to face looming gates
before the streets.

"If we want to catch the bus, we must leave immediately. Being late will be on you otherwise,
Stark"

Brooklyn slowly and silently counted to ten in at least two languages, convincing herself that
attacking him was not in her best interest, then turned to her friends and wished them a safe
walk to school. Though she was nervous to see them off into the city alone, she knew they’d
be alright without her as a silent bodyguard, meanwhile Brook supposed had her own hell to
suffer through at the moment.

So when the two groups had to leave for opposite ends of the streets, she waved at the pair
heading to Midtown, hoping that she truly wouldn't be stuck going to preschool for the rest of
her life as she clutched her backpack straps a little violently. She hadn’t realized how much
these morning walks with the boys had meant to her until now that they’d been unknowingly
revoked.

With that, the Wayne and Stark silently made their way down the now familiar streets of
Queens towards the bus station Brooklyn had never thought she'd use in her life. It wasn't a
long walk but it was a quiet one, likely in both their efforts to avoid an argument before their
assignment barely began.

The few people waiting at the benched bus stop stared at the two silent teenagers with
confusion. They were likely quite the unusual sight, two teens in designer clothing, both
glaring at one another with a person’s length between them. They remained unbothered until
someone had pinpointed her identity and sent her four year old for an autograph.

Brooklyn should be used to this behavior by now, but she still froze up by the eager child, not
only filled with unworthiness to be admired but also a slight panic at being noticed. The
young Stark still signed the wrinkled grocery list, mustering up a genuine smile to the family
despite Damian's very visible eye roll when two other people approached for an autograph.

Once the bus had arrived, the enemy pair shuffled into the furthest seats in the back, almost
instantly frowning in sync when they realized they'd have to share a two person seat with
how crowded the bus already was. Brooklyn took great care to be as far from him as
physically possible without falling onto the aisle, and she noticed Damian was practically
pushing himself as close to the window as he could.

She'd give anything to be bored at school right now, anything other than this test of wills with
a League of Shadows assassin.

Their unspoken plan to ignore and stay as far away from one another as possible was going
relatively well, that is until they both encountered some of the down sides of public transport.
The most prominent being speed bumps.

Brook could actually count the amount of times she'd been jostled around her seat with the
manicured fingers on her hand, half of those instances resulting in contact with a fuming
Damian. Each time their shoulders or legs made contact, she knew both were considering
killing the other, only for the promise of a worst punishment to keep them from springing
into action.

All the girl could do was to try and get lost in the music on the bus, try and anticipate the next
harsh turn or bump, or wonder about what would be expected of her today. It wasn’t like her
to go into a situation without research in hand, but she hadn’t done much simply because
she’d refused to think about today more than she needed to.

It seemed she wasn't the only one with at least one of those things in mind.
After another harsh speed bump that sent their shoulders and backpacks colliding with one
another, Damian visibly suppressed a curse and asked out of the blue, "What could they have
plotted for us to do for an entire school today? This seems like punishment enough", then
frowned when his hand touched a piece of dried gum on the bracing support beam before
them.

She shrugged, "How should I know? I never went to preschool"

Damian turned to face her at last, his emerald eyes almost looking lighter than usual with the
shimmering glow from the sunlight around them. Had she been foolish, she might’ve
mistaken that gentle hue for a sign of benevolence.

"Did your father pay for you to get out of it? Were you too good for it?" he asked, a hint of
sarcasm in his voice as he fixed the sleeves of his red jacket into place as if he were wearing
a suit jacket.

Brooklyn, for once, had no smart ass remark to that statement. During her ‘pre-school years’,
she was already learning the twisted teachings of the Red Room. By then, walking had been
mastered, any emotion other than calm indifference non-existent, she'd probably been on her
way to weapon handling by then.

Of course he wouldn't understand that....even though he was likely the only person she could
tell the truth to. A strange notion considering he was her enemy.

"My dad had nothing to do with it, I was in the Red Room," she replied nonchalantly,
beholding as the teen beside her lost all amusement previously visible on his face, his cold
eyes now scanning her with careful scrutiny.

"What about you? Can you tell me what we'll be expected to do, or did a nanny raise you
away from common society?" she shot back, barely catching herself from slamming onto the
seat before her when the bus made a harsh turn.

Damian remained quiet for a few seconds, and just when she assumed he'd gone back to
ignoring her, the teen said with just as much enthusiasm as she had, "I was in the League,
doing things far superior than what basic children must normally do"

Both knew what the other truly meant. They'd been learning how to kill, how to become what
they were now, weapons in the flesh. That left them in unventured territory, neither knowing
what today would hold, nor could they even begin to imagine it.

Brooklyn clutched her skirt, looking down at the flower designs printed upon it instead of her
nemesis. She'd never expected to find anyone in life who would know what it was like to
grow up as an assassin aside from her sestra, but Brook’s experience was already so different
from Nat’s own that it sometimes felt like talking about it would be the same as conversing
with a normal person. Her friends at school were always talking about the 'good ol' days'
when they’d watched Saturday morning cartoons, going to fairs and amusement parks with
their family, or making art out of glitter and food.
Harry often went into detail about what it was like being a baby model on TV, but it never
hindered his ability to live a completely normal life. He'd had what all her other friends
did...fun, family, innocence. They had likely stepped foot in pre-school halls and now looked
back on them fondly with stories her own mind could never envision.

Perhaps the problem today would not be whether or not Brook and Damian would end up
with fists raised, but rather their inability to know what to do in the face of a past that neither
had been able to have.

What she hated more than anything was that out of all people on this Earth, Damian Wayne
suddenly seemed like the person who could truly understand her best. Not even her friends,
or family, or even Natasha…but her personal enemy was the one who actually got it.

Perhaps it was a cruel fate of the world, a punishment for her past sins. It only made
Brooklyn all the more eager to be as far away from him as possible once all this was over,
even if it meant she'd never be truly understood by anyone again.

When their stop finally came, the pair got off the bus silently, but Brook did see Damian give
the driver a deadly glare that sent the man driving away faster than the speed limit allowed in
this area.

Just as her otets had promised, their stop was right before a bright colored building with
painted butterflies and all sorts of jolly things on its walls. There was even a front yard before
the building, one with a playground full of colorful structures and bright green grass the
occasional squirrel could be seen speeding along.

It was almost as if the sun shone brighter on this patch of land, where children were eagerly
making their way inside with their parents in hand, clutching their little backpacks with
smiles and laughter that appeared never ending.

Then she noticed Damian's face contort into disgust beside her, and just as his footing began
to shift as if he would walk away, Brooklyn rolled her eyes and clutched his arm, dragging
him in the direction of the parking lot despite his complaints about physical contact.

It’s not as if she was happy to be here either, not once the sweet childlike melodies came into
earshot, as young ones began running around the teens with toys in hand, screaming who
knew what with a kind of freedom Brook had never been privy to in her own childhood.
Though part of her trauma with children was the desire for them to have all Brook couldn't
receive in her infancy, something this place definitely was, this building was suddenly far too
much for Brooklyn's taste.

To her dismay, It didn't take long to make it to the front of the small building, where a big
sign in colorful letters read proudly 'Academy of Building Blocks'. The pair froze before that
looming entrance, staring up at their doom with the closest thing two skilled assassins had to
unease, and perhaps even slight fear of the unknown.

Brooklyn removed her hand from Damian's arm, numbly staring at joy-filled parents walking
their children to the main door with hugs and kisses in farewell, promises of love exchanged
like it was nothing. The Stark tried, but failed, not to wonder what that would've been like to
have that with her otets and Pepper as her mom walking a little Brooklyn into a school like
this. She would've likely been as happy as those rosy cheeked children, the image was almost
enough for the teen to turn around and go home, but this time it was Damian who took hold
of her backpack and silently dragged her forward.

If the outside of the place was already blindingly colorful and happy, the inside was
impossibly more so. There wasn’t a crevice or inch of the walls decorated with smiling
animals and beautiful sceneries from across the world. Brook failed to take her gaze off the
poorly colored array of paper butterflies hanging from the ceiling, or the foam planets and
stars amongst them.

She wondered if this bright and harmless sight was what the world was supposed to look like
from a child’s eyes. For her, it had always been a dark place with no color aside from the
shade of blood, it had been the promise of pain and the expectations of success in exchange
for her life.

How could children learn in a place like this?, Brook couldn’t help but wonder. Such a
school looked more like a fever dream than an actual learning hall. The Red Room would've
burned a place like this to the ground for sure, and though she felt like a fish out of water,
Brook took silent pride in her ability to remain inside it for so long despite her discomforts.

Thankfully, Mrs. Campbell found them amongst the crowd almost instantly, a small relief
since Brooklyn didn't want to go wandering around this place more than she needed to.

She was a short woman, probably around Brook's height. But unlike the teen, the woman had
a bright smile, lively hazel eyes, and an affinity with greeting children like they were the
most important things in the world. She too had rosy cheeks, and a gentleness about her that
made Brook certain the woman wouldn't last a second in a life or death situation.

Such a thought was involuntary on the teen's part, she was used to seeing instructors as role
models to follow in deadly situations. In her youth, they had been the models of death and
destruction, adults that wouldn’t hesitate to slay a child for so much as making their hidden
emotions known. This woman looked nothing like the people that raised the Stark in her
younger years, she was devoid of scars and wounds, of that authoritative presence that
commanded respect.

Ms. Campbell was the furthest thing away from the instructors that beat her to death in the
name of instilling knowledge.

"My goodness, you must be Miss Stark and Mr. Wayne!" the woman said, voice soft and
gentle like a summer breeze, "You're both here right on time, thank you for coming!"

Brooklyn shook the woman's hand, trying her best to seem polite as she expressed her thanks
for letting them help in her class today...even if that was the last thing Brook wanted to do.
Whether she liked it or not, she carried the Stark legacy with her today, and the daughter of a
hero would be nothing but polite in such instances.

Unlike her, Damian did not shake the woman's hand, probably due to the 'I don't like
touching people' insistence of his. He still greeted the woman with some sense of politeness,
but Damian was stiff in his greeting, paying more attention to the small children running
around him than the kind lady before him. Brook wasn’t sure if he was looking for dangers
amongst their tiny forms, which would be both amusing and worrisome at the same time.

The woman did not seem to mind Damian’s reluctant nature like most would, she just guided
the teens to a classroom at the end of the hall, one labeled with a very colorful sign with Mrs.
Campbell's name on it, plus tiny little painted hands all along the white door.

Inside, the classroom was already full of lively kids placing their backpacks on small cabinets
in the back of the class, and Mrs. Campbell quickly excused herself momentarily to help a
few clumsy children out of their coats and sweaters.

The sight of the foreign space almost made Brooklyn laugh, a nervous sound.

Had Tony really expected her to last a full day in this place with someone as bitter as Damian
Wayne?

The room was full of little round tables surrounded by chairs made for children, who were
eagerly hugging and babbling to one another despite the morning energy most teens and
adults often lacked. The front of the class had a large rug with numbers and basic words
printed upon its colorful and soft fabric, which is where other kids greeted one another as if
they hadn’t seen one another in a decade.

There were large arrays of paintings all over the room, as well as interactive and colorful
boards and posters of anything ranging from basic numbers, the alphabet, to images of
different professions to choose from for when they left these halls. Unsurprisingly, being a
spy and assassin was not on any of them.

Both teens reluctantly set down their own backpacks beside the small cabinets,
absentmindedly scanning the room for exits, entrances...things only trained assassins would
notice and deem important even in a place like this. After her thorough inspection of possible
weapons and a few plans of escape, Brook noticed her enemy was not as focused on that task
anymore.

Beside her, Damian was staring at the room like he might destroy it all, especially when a
small kid made his way over, clutching the Wayne's tailored black pants with his crumb filled
hands.

The little boy had big blue eyes and blond hair that almost looked white under the scrutiny of
the various lights above them. Despite standing before a stranger, he beamed at Damian, little
fat fingers holding on tight even when the teen began raising his leg to shake off the intruder.

"Who are you?" the boy asked excitedly, staring up at Brook's nemesis like he was the whole
world.

"My name is Damian, and I prefer not to be touched...small creature"

The boy did not let go, if anything, he further wrapped his small little arms around Damian's
leg, much to the exasperation of the teen. Even went as far as to rub his rosy cheek against
the expensive fabric.

"Dananian!"

Brooklyn tried, and failed, not to laugh at the kid's attempt at pronunciation. She almost felt
tears pooling in her eyes when the pre-schooler repeated it like a mantra despite Damian's
insistent and not-so-gentle corrections. In order to spare the kid his life, Brooklyn knelt down
so she could face the energetic child. When the small stranger noticed her, his eyes went
wide, and a little hand stretched out for Brook to take.

She took it into her own, not giving a damn about her designer coat as she used the end of it
to wipe the remaining cookie crumbs off his extended hand. Her days spent in poverty had
made her immune to the allure of expensive things, she only wore them because of her image
as a Stark after all.

"He has a weird name, huh?" Brooklyn said with as much feigned sweetness as she could,
earning a little nod and chuckle from the child. Then doing her best to mask her wicked grin,
she added, "That's why I call him Dami, you can too if you’d like"

Though Brook felt the Wayne's kick her back with his remaining free leg, she did not falter in
her smile as the boy nodded, running back to his desk shouting "Dami! Dami!"

When she stood back up, Damian was practically glaring holes into her, clutching her
forearm harshly as he whispered, "You think you're funny, don't you Stark?"

The girl shrugged his hand off, something she could likely only do in a place like this without
consequences, yet couldn't keep the devilish smirk that followed at bay any longer as she
whispered, "It's a family trait, I'm afraid"

"The never-ending annoyance?"

She grinned, "The fantastic and clever sense of humor"

Mrs. Campbell managed to choose that moment to work her way back to the teens,
unknowingly preventing another fight to arise. She wasted no time handing over two apron-
like uniforms enthusiastically, asking them to put them on then join her at the front of the
class.

The handed light-blue fabric was not like the customary aprons Brook had worn when she’d
worked the coffee station at the Diner, but something thicker and infinitely more complicated.
They were both about a shirt's length both in the back and the front, decorated with a smiling
sun and flowers at its center. In fact, it was very much like the ones Brooklyn had noticed
Mrs. Campbell and the other teachers wearing. Now that she noticed, kids had put some on as
well that fitted them more like dresses, each with their names painted creatively on them,
theirs of various colored fabrics and filled with stains.

Bright and colorful designated uniforms with pockets to keep at hand essentials on. This was
the height of fashion…
Brooklyn just shrugged before placing it above her cozy sweater, but Damian had taken a few
moments of disgusted hesitation before placing it on above his own jacket, obscuring any
trace of his black t-shirt from sight.

Never in her life had she expected to see him with so much color on.

He looked....dare she say...adorable. Those cold emerald eyes suddenly seemed less so, the
sharp angles of his face not as intimidating, and with the way the wind had ruffled his onyx
locks on the way in, she could’ve been tricked into thinking this was a completely different
person.

“The smiling flower look suits you, my dear nemesis" Brook teased as she clasped the sides
of her apron into near bows, "Finally something to mask your absolute lack of joy and
happiness, it even brings out your eyes"

Damian secretly sent her an absence gesture, then whispered, "I hope you trip on some kid
with those white stilettos of yours"

She loved those shoes, more than her circulatory system at least. They’d been a gift from
Natasha, paired with a secret compartment at the heels that had five thin blades in case she
ever needed to defend herself. Maybe that's why she liked them so much, not because they
were Jimmy Choos (which she’d been made aware was a designer brand), but because they
were a spies’ greatest ally.

Yet, even when he'd tried to attack her with cruel words, Brook could tell they didn’t have the
usual bite seeing as he was utterly miserable, more so than her uncomfortable toes. Damian's
comeback had been weak, and his utter defeat was enough for her to ignore the comment and
drag him to the front of the classroom where Mrs. Campbell seemed to beam at the sight of
both teens suited up for work.

She gently asked the class to quiet down, and Brook watched as all the children took seats in
their colorful chairs that were no taller than her knees, their doe-like eyes staring up at their
teacher as if she were their commanding officer. Once those curious orbs caught sight of the
teens, the students began to gasp in excitement, not at all concerned with the sight of new
faces.

"Hello class, we have some new friends joining us today!" Mrs. Campbell announced,
earning cheers from the thirty or so kids in the room, "I'll let them introduce themselves, then
we'll start our morning songs"

Morning songs...this was going to be a long and painful day.

Silently cursing herself, Brooklyn did her best to smile at the expectant eyes, seeming as
friendly as possible as she awkwardly waved at them.

"My name is Brooklyn Stark, but you guys can call me Brook if you'd like," she offered,
watching as the children began mouthing out her name with various rates of success and
failure. None of the eyes left her figure, which is why she kept her relaxed posture in place,
not wanting to give these kids a single reason to try under her watch.
One kid seated at one of the front tables raised his hand eagerly, and when his teacher nodded
in permission, he asked, "Stark? Like Iwon Man?"

Der'mo. Shit.

"Clever. She IS, in fact, Iron Man's daughter," Damian said smugly by Brook's side, sending
the kids into cheering fits, asking if the hero of the world would show up today. The Wayne
was lucky she couldn't kick him right now...he’d done this on purpose.

"Yes, Iron Man is my dad," Brook said, trying to placate the crowd, "but he's really busy
today and couldn't make it, so he sent me instead"

The little girl beside the dark-skinned boy jumped in place, "Are you a swuper hero too?"

That question, though innocent, was probably one of the most horrifying things she'd ever
heard. What was Brook supposed to say? No, I'm a born killer?

She was trying to be worthy of being an Avenger...she really was...but a hero she was not.

Trying to recover from her mild panic, Brooklyn smiled down at the girl like nothing was
wrong and replied softly, "I'm too young for that, so for now I'm just Brook…"

Deciding to enact payback tenfold, Brooklyn’s smile widened as she placed a hand on
Damian's sleeved arm, relishing in the fact that he could not complain before all these kids,
much less flinch away the way he likely wanted to.

"...and this is Dami," she added smugly.

Damian seemed to be fighting his hardest not to snap at her, instead trying to keep that stoic
mask on as kids began muttering the Wayne's Brook-given-nickname amongst themselves. It
was a chorus of mockery, a symphony of success.

Brooklyn could've wept in satisfaction right then and there.

It was after those introductions that Brook's smug smirk was quickly wiped off her face,
because she soon found out what morning songs meant.

Apparently, each morning, these kids would sing about the joys of life, the greatness of a new
day and all that. Both Damian and Brook had been given laminated papers of songs to follow
along as the teacher faced the room with a little Mickey Mouse glove pointer. After a disc
was placed on the computer, joyous music began blasting around the room, and the kids sang
along loudly like their life depended on it.

Brooklyn and her enemy had shared a long disbelieving glance, staring at the papers in their
hands as if they could burn them with sheer will, but one look from Mrs. Campbell sent both
teens into reluctant singing along with everyone else. Following along to the routine actions
of the teacher and kids, Brooklyn felt like she was dying inside as she began clapping her
hands along to the beat, singing rather unenthusiastically, "Good morning preschool friends,
how are you? Good morning preschool friends, how are you?"
After each of those bothersome repetitions, the little kids would stand up from their seats and
shout "Good! Good!" and then the circle would repeat torturously.

Beside her, Damian was turned away from Brook, but she could hear his low and near silent
singing as he followed along with gritted teeth, "It's time to start our day, we are here to work
and play. Good morning preschool friends, how are you?"

It would have sent her laughing, the sight of her enemy defeated by a simple song, had Brook
not had to do it herself.

By the end of the first song, the kids seemed rather pleased, more energetic than before if that
was even possible. The excitement only grew as more simple songs were sung, one of which
was about colors. It was simple to understand really, if you wore the mentioned color, you
had to get up and shout 'Hooray!'. It almost made her envious of them, being challenged with
such easy tasks at this age when Brooklyn had been burdened doing obstacle courses that left
her bruised and scratched.

Sure, it wasn't rocket science to sing these little verses, but Brooklyn felt like some of her
strength of will was vanishing at the thought of being forced to be so enthusiastic this early
on in the day. She almost wished they’d be doing the obstacle courses instead.

When the first version of the songs started, the color red was picked, and Brooklyn had never
been more glad to have a blue skirt and gray shirt in her life to avoid the embarrassment. But
Damian WAS wearing a red jacket, but unlike the four or so kids wearing the color, the
Wayne did not jump up in excitement or shout his given line....that was until a god’s sent
child named Bree called him out to the class before the next verse could begin.

"Mrs C! Dami didn't do it!" the little girl had shouted, and all the kids were suddenly united
in asking for a redo as if a law had been broken and they seeked retribution...a redo in which
Damian was finally forced to jump in place and shout Hooray!

He'd sounded anything but happy, but the kids hadn't minded one bit, Brooklyn certainly
didn't. She'd just shot him a sideways smirk that she was almost certain would get her killed
later on, not yet at least.

After 'morning songs' time was finally over, Mrs. Campbell took advantage of the happy
atmosphere to start off on a simple number activity...because kids of this age were barely
learning such things.

The class was split into groups, one led by Brook, one by the teacher, and the last by Damian.

The teens job was to pick a card with a number for each of the lined up children. If the kid
said the right number, they got a little golden star sticker, if they failed…there was no
punishment, they just had to go to the back of the line and try again.

This approach of learning was so foreign to her own youth that Brooklyn actually asked the
teacher for clarification before going over to her side of the class, picking up the stack of
cards and doing her job.
Most kids were confident in their abilities and managed to get things right first go. The little
star stickers were like actual gold to them, their dimpled smiles wide as they received a
reward for their basic knowledge. Those who failed the first try didn’t seem upset in the least,
just giggled and went back to the line more determined to get the right response next time.

On the other side of the room, Brook snuck a quick glance at where Damian was performing
his duty stoically, holding up cards stiffly and placing stickers on the kids' aprons with no
form of congratulatory support.

The kids assigned to him still beamed, hugging his legs before returning to their seats.

Brooklyn on the other hand, tried her best to make the kids feel like their efforts mattered,
that their failures were nothing of consequence. She congratulated each kid no matter their
success, if only because the Red Room had never done so. Because they had that luxury to
try again without having their lives on the line.

The little ones seemed to appreciate that, especially when she gave them the time to think
through their answers or gave them small hints. They all hugged her legs, saying silly things
about Brook being their favorite before going back to their places to show off the artificial
gold on their aprons to their beaming peers.

The entire time, she felt Damian's piercing stare on her across the room, but Brook decided
not to pay it any mind, especially when Mrs. Campbell came by to congratulate her once her
cluster of kids were all seated.

Once all lines were done and all kids could brag about their successful exercise, Mrs.
Campbell had ushered the teens to the front of the room and gave each a sticker of their own.

When Damian frowned down at his own from where it rested on the left side of his apron,
and she heard him whisper only loud enough for her to hear, "Ridiculous, I'm not a child"

Brooklyn smirked, leaning over to whisper, "Fine, I'll take it then"

Damian's hands immediately went up to cover the side of his chest where the sticker was.

"Back off, Stark. I earned this," he replied in an angry whisper, which only made the girl
smile all the more.

Throughout the morning, Brooklyn was made aware that golden stickers were a sort of
reward system for the kids, a way to motivate them to perform well the same way Brooklyn's
own life had been used as motivation in the Red Room. Kids went wild for them, especially
since they were a currency of sorts at the end of the day, all in exchange for candy. It was
silly to think that would be a big motivator, but Brook had quickly found out it was a very
effective tactic.

Damian had merely mumbled something about it being like giving treats to a dog.

After going over new numbers with the aid of songs, learning words and phrases with clips
and cartoons, and even a bit of name writing practice, the kids were promised some time to
relax. As if the kids hadn't been the ones enjoying their day so far...it seemed only Damian
and Brook were the only ones suffering, the ones that craved something simpler to do.

Nearly four hours since the teen's arrival, it was 'Art Time'.

Each table was given a few water paints and blank paper to draw as they pleased, a daily
activity the students seemed to favor. What they were supposed to learn from it, Brook wasn’t
sure, she’d never drawn a day in her life.

The table Brook had been assigned to quickly got to work as the teen struggled to sit down on
the small chair not meant for someone her size. On the table next to her, Damian seemed to
be struggling as much as she was, but he tried not to let it show as much.

"I'm going to draw the Avengers!" one of the kids at Brook's table announced, sending almost
half the table into agreement to draw heroes of their own. She'd have to tell her family about
that later...most would find it amusing, or maybe they were used to being role models by now.

Thankfully, Brooklyn was not given paper of her own. According to Mrs. Campbell, her job
was to make sure the kids did not make too much of a mess or consume any of the paint.

Easy enough.

The little girl next to Brook, one with tiny pigtails and a yellow sundress named Hope,
suddenly tapped the teen on the shoulder. When Brooklyn looked down at the child
expectantly wondering if she’d consumed any of the paint, the little girl enthusiastically
announced, "I'm going to paint you, Ms Brook! Ok?"

"Why me?" the teen asked, unsure why that would be a proper course of action when Hope
could be painting actual heroes like her classmates.

The girl smiled widely, "Because you're pwetty! You can take it home too!"

Brooklyn nodded, but was silently touched that someone would want to gift her something,
especially as other kids at the table proceeded with the same idea, not just for her, but
apparently for Damian as well.

Back at his table, he seemed entirely focused on his task, reprimanding the kids every now
and then when they used their hands instead of their brushes. But after a while, the Stark
noticed him actually helping them in a way she wasn’t sure she could.

He was teaching them how to mix colors, holding onto their hands with heartbreaking
gentleness as he helped guide their brushes. The kids were looking up at him like he was an
Einstein-level genius just for knowing how to make new colors out of the limited selection
they’d been granted.

Honestly, Brooklyn didn't know he had it in him to be that kind. She didn’t even know he
knew how to do something as mundane as mixing paints, Brook was sure that much like her
own childhood lessons, painting had not been part of his own.
She was almost hypnotized as she beheld her nemesis stand up to help each kid create the
color they wanted, as he explained to them what to do with a whispered tone that was slightly
less harsh than his usual voice. He’d even go as far as to dump their dirty paint water and
exchange it for clearer water from across the room, almost like he cared how their paintings
turned out.

By the end of that activity, both Brook and Damian had been sent to the small balcony-like
area outside the class to hang up all the art to dry. They were not warned to behave, but
something about Mrs. Campbell's kind stare practically screamed that she'd keep an eye on
them for any misbehavior.

Brook didn’t say anything about Damian’s odd behavior as they laid out the papers on the
table outside, carefully hanging up all the silly little art with butterfly clips on hanging wires.
Neither teen seemed to wanna initiate a fight at the moment, they just did their job quietly,
occasionally even giving the other a clip if they needed it.

It was probably the most peaceful and civil they had been around one another...ever.

Their next task was not nearly as easy flowing though. After putting all the art supplies away,
the teens were asked to help out with lunch time.

At that point, Brooklyn was surprisingly exhausted, not sure how Mrs. Campbell was still
standing after continuous days of excessive work like this. The Stark sucked it up though,
taking her assigned group of kids and leading them hand in hand to the room next door just as
Damian did the same behind her, only having the kids hold on to his sleeves instead of his
hands.

They helped the teacher lead the young ones to a small kitchen-like station with small skinks
for the kids to wash their hands. As a hand washing song played in the background, the
Midtown students helped the kids with the simple task of applying soap, helping them lather
the soap between their little hands, even aided in drying the skin with fluffy towels that were
kind on their gentle and unblemished skin.

Beside her, Damian was already whispering about the uselessness of children by the time all
kids were set with clean hands towards their seats. Meanwhile, Brook and Damian’s aprons
were soaked from their efforts, neither looking too happy about how difficult such a simple
task had been.

With no time to rest, they both helped the adults from the kitchens bring out the trays of food,
and to their surprise, Mrs. Campbell assigned both teens the same table to help out with the
meal since there were other adults to help out the other tables as per usual.

Being stuck at a small table with Damian was nothing short of torture.

His long legs kept bumping into hers from where they bent awkwardly to fit between the
small table and the chair. Damned bastard. If he didn't so obviously hate physical contact
with every breathing being on this planet, she might've thought he was doing it on purpose.
It appeared he was right on the uselessness of children, because what she’d expected to be a
simple lookout for choking kids turned into an entire operation. She and the demon had to
practically feed each child, taking turns to wipe the food falling from their mouths, and even
making sure no one choked on their juice or their small gummies as they talked.

Such desperate need for 'teamwork' to be able to handle all kids at once caused their hands to
collide many times, their fingers touching as they reached for the same spoon or napkin. With
Campbell on the table beside them, neither teen dared to initiate a fight, they just stared at
each other with as much hidden malice as they could and went on with their tasks.

At some point during the meal, one of their assigned kids asked innocently, "Are you two
married?"

Brooklyn almost fell backwards from her tiny chair in shock, and Damian's eyes had never
been blown so wide in the time she'd known him. The child didn't seem to realize how
impossible her statement was, because she and the others just stared up at them expectantly
as if the question had been an obvious one.

"Of course not," Brooklyn said, attempting and succeeding not to scowl as she added, "what
makes you think that?"

The little girl twirled a curl of her black hair, looking up at Brook as if she'd said something
silly.

“My mommy and daddy stare at each other awot too, they said its because they love each
other" she said, matter of factly, "You two have cooties"

Cooties? Love? Staring!?

"What does cooties mean? I'm almost certain that's not a proper word, child" Damian said, as
he held up a plastic cup for the kid beside him.

To be fair, it was a completely reasonable question considering that throughout the day these
kids had been saying a variety of words that she knew for a fact did not exist. Hopefully this
one meant absolute hatred for one another.

The other little girl in the group beamed, "It means you like each other. True love like a
prince and princess! Or like a mommy and daddy!"

Brooklyn felt like gagging, and when she met Damian's gaze, the two frowned at one another.
These children were highly illogical and not very perceptive at all, there weren't two other
people in this world that hated one another more than Brook did the demon by her side, that
as a fact both were incredibly aware of.

There wasn’t a universe in which the two would ever find themselves in love, the thought
itself made her skin crawl.

She considered telling the child that would happen over Brook's dead body, but instead chose
the peaceful approach of laughing her discomfort away. These kids were still under their care
after all, and if she was lucky, they’d forget about this silly conversation by the time classes
resumed.

"We go to the same school, nothing more than that, Kelly," Brook said, proceeding to clean
the girl's chin after she bit into a few strawberries. Unfortunately, something told her Kelly
didn’t quite buy it, because it was a long while after that the girl was still staring at the two
teens, almost like she could see something they couldn’t.

Thankfully, that was the end of that awful conversation, if only because dessert had come
around at that time and the kids busied themselves with their small powdery donuts.

Like their food prior to that, the kids somehow felt a need to share their sustenance with the
teens. So like before, Brook had to open her mouth on command and eat whatever they
offered...a kid had already begun crying once when Damian had refused. The heirs had
learned their lesson since. Plus, Brooklyn didn't want to have to soothe a kid on her lap for
minutes on end again, so she ignored the threat of poison —which might be a blessing at this
point—and just ate all that was offered, Damian doing the same beside her.

After trays had been taken back to get cleaned and all kids had washed their hands once
again...a saving grace occurred.

Something called Recess. It was a daily activity in which all kids from each class were sent to
the front yard to play and scream to their heart's content. That's what recess meant to them, to
Brooklyn it meant slight peace at last! Mrs. Campbell had been kind enough to give the teens
a little break then to eat and relax, even if it was only less than half an hour.

Finding the comforting shade of a tree, Brooklyn leaned against it, watching the children play
down the small hill with a tired sigh. Though everything was still relatively successful, her
dad had really outdone himself with the punishment.

Speaking of her dad...

Brooklyn quickly reached into the pocket of her apron, seeing she had a video from her
friends at school. They were in the cafeteria...sitting with Jon Kent. They claimed he'd been
alone on his side of the table, so they invited him over for the day, plus he too wanted to wish
Brooklyn luck serving her ‘detention’.

The message had been short but sweet in its own way, especially when Peter promised he had
all her homework ready to give to Brook once she returned. He'd even saved her piece of the
communal cookie the group always shared.

The rest of the messages on her phone were actually from Pepper and Tony, wishing her luck
and begging her to behave. Brooklyn promised she was behaving in a quick text, considering
Damian wasn't dead, she'd say she was doing a wonderful job so far. In fact, she’d think it
was worth an actual gold star for her monumental efforts.

On the other side of the yard, Damian was lounging on a lone table, his back to the joyous
playground as he scanned his phone lazily. Neither teen had thought to bring lunch, so it
seemed all they could do was stare at their phones and ignore one another for as long as they
could.

Just looking at him made her blood boil...but to her horror, not as much as before.

He was behaving, enough not to set her nerves over the edge of course, but it certainly helped
when it came to behaving herself. In all honesty, she wasn't entirely sure how they'd made it
so far without killing one another. Maybe it was the fact that Damian looked as out of place
as she felt, that neither could claim superiority in a field of knowledge neither had
experienced.

She couldn’t wait until this day was over and she could forget about this tamed side of the
demon that knew how to mix paints. Once they could go back to hating one another openly,
she’d realize this moment of stupidity was nothing more than that.

After sending a quick text to her sestra promising she was doing alright, the Black Widow
quickly replied with a smiling emoji she'd never expected an assassin of her caliber to use.
But Brooklyn still replied with one of her own if only to test the waters, it felt odd, but not
entirely unwelcome.

As quick as the break came, it ended.

Thankfully, the next classroom activity was not something heavily energy consuming. On the
contrary, to her absolute dismay, the next task for these small children was nothing more than
sleeping. Nap time, or so they called it. It was an hour designated for the kids to rest, Mrs.
Campbell had explained to the confused teens.

It seemed stupid at first, why would kids sleep when they were meant to learn? Brook could
actually recall days of her early youth where she wouldn’t sleep for days at a time, but
apparently, daytime sleep provided much-needed downtime that actually helped in physical
and mental development that occurred in early childhood. It was meant to help keep kids
from becoming overtired, which could affect their moods and make it harder for them to fall
asleep at night.

Some kids did seem a little grumpy now that Brooklyn looked around the classroom.

Glad to see this had some purpose, she and Damian helped arrange the small sleeping-bag-
like setups for each kid as they were instructed. It was like a cluster of beds on the floor, right
atop the massive rug at the front of the class. As they were finishing up that task, Damian
surpassingly whispered, "Nap time...how ridiculous"

At first, she hadn’t expected him to be addressing her, but one glance at the teen beside him
who had his eyes locked on her made her realize he wasn’t just muttering to himself. He
wasn’t asking her to initiate a fight, how could he when it was clear Brooklyn would
obviously agree with him. Though this particular kind of conversation was new and made her
feel like he’d one day use it against her somehow, Brook nodded in agreement as she placed
the last of the colored blankets in place.
"I don't think the Red Room ever let me sleep during the day, even at night they went out of
their way to wake us up with life threatening excesses. These American children have it
easy," she whispered, almost dropping one of the pillows unceremoniously when she earned a
nod from her enemy.

Not long after they’d finished the simple task of setting up beds, the teens found out that
putting tired kids to sleep was not as effortless.

Even at her age, Brooklyn would give anything to sleep during the day, even a few extra
hours at night would be heavenly to someone like her who was constantly working on dozens
of tasks at a time. But to some of these children, it was like sleeping was a punishment.

Four in particular refused to lay their setups, clutching Damian and Brook's legs as they
begged them for no nap time. Luckily, Mrs. Campbell seemed to have the remedy for almost
anything these kids could throw their way, for she did not seem stressed or worried by the
display.

Unfortunately, that remedy proved to be yet another punishment for her and Damian, even if
not intentional.

"Why don't you guys ask Dami and Brook to sleep with you?" the teacher said innocently,
almost prompting Brooklyn into an argument until she remembered where she was and the
punishment she was serving. It was Brook’s job to follow orders after all.

The little kids by their feet smiled, seemingly pleased with the idea as they dragged the numb
teens to the middle beds in the room. A boy named Felix and the little girl from the lunch
table dragged Damian to a green sleeping bed that only covered half his body, and though
Brook was still being dragged towards the same fate, she couldn’t help but smile when the
two kids under his charge were quick to cuddle beside him despite the Wayne's awkward
complaints about personal space.

When the kids only moved closer, he let out a long and frustrated groan before bringing the
small blanket over the three of them, shooting Brooklyn a glare as if daring her to comment
on the situation she'd soon be a part of.

In order to keep the satisfaction from his face, Brooklyn made a show of happily settling
down with the two little girls by her sides, hugging them close beside Damian's set up as the
lights went out across the room and the space was filled with the recorded sounds of lullabies
neither teen was familiar with.

Amidst the darkness, the two teens locked eyes once their eyesight adjusted to the darkness
she was so familiar with. To her surprise, Damian too was quick to adjust to the change,
making her wonder how it was so easy for him considering the League of Shadows had been
rumored to be atop mighty mountains open to the elements rather than the underground cave
system Brook had known.

She’d expected Damian to shoot her a teasing grin, but instead she saw only discomfort and
annoyance on his face, for once not directed at her. As much as she wanted to prove she was
better off, Brook had never shared such close personal ‘sleeping’ space with others and it was
making her uncomfortable too. Not to mention that if she shifted even a little bit, her shoulder
would come in contact with Damian’s.

After considering the consequences of what would happen if she just stood and left the
classroom all together, Brook shifted her gaze from Damian’s calculating eyes and closed her
own. Brooklyn had planned to remain awake while the children slept around her, but she'd
underestimated her exhaustion from caring for these kids all morning, because it wasn't long
before the teen fell into deep slumber.

When they were woken up by bright lights and clapping from Mrs. Campbell, the first thing
Brook noticed in her waking haze was a face beside her own, one that was sleepily waking up
as well.

Brooklyn almost screamed when she realized it was Damian's face, but when she tried to shift
away from him, her body wouldn’t move. His eyes went wide as well, and he too almost
scrambled away from her until he noted the small bodies resting on both their chests. It
wasn’t just the four kids they’d taken under their care, but somehow half the class had slowly
inched their way over to them and now they were buried under a blanket of toddlers, stuck
facing one another without so much as a few inches between them.

They could easily free themselves, but that would risk hurting the kids, so they’d be forced to
wait until the young ones woke on their own.

In the split seconds it took for her to work that out, Brooklyn took in the bigger picture,
remembering that she was stuck in a preschool, following their ritual of nap time. This was
her punishment, though Brook was willing to wager neither her dad or Damian’s own had
imagined the teens would end up in this situation, otherwise they wouldn’t have agreed to the
punishment.

As bleary bodies woke from slumber around her, Brook couldn't help but curse whatever
research had allowed the concept of taking a nap in the middle of the day. This is what
happened when someone did something so stupid, brain cells hibernated enough to make
someone think they were sleeping in the same bed as Damian Wayne.

It took awhile for the kids to fully rise from their slumber, even more so for her heartbeat to
slow down, but when the two teens were able to stand, they did so as far from one another as
possible, sending secret glares to one another as if the momentary fear of waking up in the
same bed as the other was somehow one of their faults.

Despite her calm and delicate demeanor, Mrs. Campbell was a woman with an agenda, Brook
realized. As soon as everyone wasn’t stumbling sleepily more activities were quick to follow,
and the two teens were set back to work. Games were played, songs were sung, and by the
time the clock miraculously read two o'clock, Brooklyn was ready to call it quits despite the
recharging nap from earlier. In her opinion, the whatever hours of sleep she’d gained from
that were not worth the embarrassment of waking up next to a Wayne.

Once the end of the day was finally called by the bell, Brooklyn could only claim to have
achieved a few things for the day.
She'd learned how to hula hoop, how to play tag, taught kids numbers 10-15 with surprising
success, managed not to kill Damian, and earned eight golden stars for her efforts. Brook also
beat the one and only Damian Wayne in a song called 'Heads, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes', in
which the words were repeated along with gestures to said body parts as the song got
progressively faster. Revolutionary.

That had probably been the best part of the day, yet probably the most ridiculous as well, so it
was definitely not a victory she could brag about to her dad.

Despite her exhaustion, some part of her had warmed up to the kids amidst all this chaos,
especially Hope, Felix…and Kelly, despite her ridiculous comment and Brook and the demon
being a couple.

The kids had clung to her during the day's activities, and once the teens hung their aprons and
were set to leave the classroom, the three little ones clung to Brook's skirt with crocodile
tears in their eyes, all because Mrs. Campbell had announced to the expectant class that the
two teens would not be coming back tomorrow.

The two teens had shared a quick glance, for once devoid of the distaste and fury, replaced by
relief and victory. It was nothing but a simple glance, neither one of them would even think
of thanking the other out loud, but in a way Brook thought the glance alone was enough of an
agreement that their efforts had proven fruitful.

Knowing her ‘detention’ was fulfilled had been the greatest news Brooklyn had ever received
in her life, she thought it might very well be an even greater victory than her first SHIELD
mission, that was up until she realized some of the kids would actually miss her as if they’d
known her all their lives. It was silly in a sense, that children could become so attached to
things so easily, it required a level of trust no assassin should possess. Maybe that’s why it
was somewhat endearing.

Picking up Hope into her arms, Brooklyn held the girl in an embrace, soothing her hiccuping
tears while the teen rubbed the heads of the kids by her feet as gently as possible.

Surprisingly, not too far from her was Damian having the same issue.

The little boy who had greeted the Wayne upon first entering the classroom was now crying
on the floor before a panicked Damian, who despite trying to keep his aura of superiority
intact, was having trouble holding onto that mask of cold indifference. Two other kids,
Rachel and Malik (whom he'd helped with painting) were also visibly upset, clutching the
fabric of his black designer pants as they begged Damian not to leave forever.

When Damian's panicked gaze met hers, Brooklyn decided to throw him a bone just this
once, if only because of the day’s success. Though she had once been clueless about
comforting others, Tanya's actions for the broken hearted girl in the bathroom a few days ago
(Harry’s fault) had been very informative.

Brooklyn subtly motioned to the way she was carrying little Hope in her arms, the way she
was running her hands along the cheeks of the crying children before her as she knelt down
on the floor for them to embrace her as well.
Damian frowned at the sight, shaking his head as he half-heartedly complained about kids
needing help with everything, but when the crying increased, he still took little Chris into his
arms with shocking gentleness and knelt down on the glitter filled floor at the cost of his
clean pants to hesitantly accept embraces from the other kids.

For all her hatred of the Wayne, it felt like a strangely tender moment she shouldn't be
intruding on, yet Brook couldn’t take her eyes off the sight. It was hard to imagine that was
the same teen that strolled around the halls of Midtown inducing fear and projecting himself
as almost god-like. He wasn’t the enemy she’d fought yesterday, nor was he the guest in
Metropolis that had held a blade against her skin.

Though skill looking very much displeased, Damian did not shove the kids away after a time,
he let them spend their tears and embrace him as long as they needed at the cost of his own
preferred comforts. For a split second, Brooklyn wondered if Mr. Wayne had not been a
father who’d encouraged physical affection as her parents did. It wasn’t any of her business
though, and it could not be used as an advantage over her enemy, so it was useless pondering.

All was calming down until all kids in the class had registered the goodbyes and tacked the
teens into two heaping messes of hugs on the floor. It had been uncomfortable to say the
least, but some part of Brooklyn had been slightly pleased by the fact that she'd be missed for
however long their developing brains remembered her. Not just her, but Damian as well.

After the mournful goodbyes were over, both teens proceeded to help kids put on their jackets
and backpacks, guiding them in a single file line to the front of the school where their parents
were already waiting for their children with smiles on their faces.

As promised, Hope gave Brook a drawing of herself, something many kids did as well. None
of the art depictions of Brook looked perfectly like her, but she appreciated the sentiment,
especially the one that had Brook flying with an Iron Man suit by her side. She didn't know
why, but that one was her favorite. She wanted to keep it close, treat it as a hope of what her
future could be.

Brooklyn had stuffed those drawings into her backpack, then handed over the kids to their
respective parents. Though the kids they’d cared for were perhaps too young to understand
what it was like having a Stark and Wayne in their midsts, the adults were unable to hide their
shock at the sight of the children of Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne helping out at the
seemingly normal school, especially when many of the kids hugged the Prince of Gotham
City well known for his difficult attitude.

Damian didn't embrace any of the kids back or course, but he did tell them as gently as
possible to work hard on their art, some of which was handed to him as a gift.

Mrs. Campbell was pleased with the teens at the end of it all, saying they did a good job, as
well as giving each a colorful lollipop as a reward. It felt peculiar to be rewarded during a
punishment, but neither teen refused the gift. With that, the two had to rush over to the bus
station with a quick goodbye to the woman who liberated them from further punishment
when she could’ve easily doomed them to an eternity of suffering.
Yet even after they’d sprinted their way along the busy streets of the city, all those
‘unnecessary’ goodbyes made them miss the bus back to Midtown. The next transport
wouldn't arrive till five in the afternoon, and neither teen was keen on waiting three hours for
a bumpy and unpleasant ride on a bus. That meant walking a few miles back to school
grounds instead, with Damian Wayne as company.

Prevoskhodno. Great

As expected, their walk along the busy city streets was silent, especially since Brooklyn had
her sunglasses on and was thankfully not recognized by anyone walking around them. The
hood of her coat as well as Damian’s own kept them warm on that chilly afternoon that was
somehow colder than that morning, but it did make it harder to see the demon’s expression
when he decided to talk.

"Why the sun glasses, Stark? In case you haven't noticed, we have cloud coverage right now.
Same pesky habit as your father’s?" Damian muttered suddenly, clutching his backpack
tighter as they weaved around the increasing flow of the crowds exiting a nearby mall.

Brooklyn let out a bitter laugh, "People recognize me easily now that I'm a celebrity and all.
You probably don't get it, but I was born and raised a spy who wasn't meant to be
noticed...this is my best defense"

As the flow of pedestrians began to ease, she finally got a look of his face when Damian
stared down at her with something close to understanding, yet he still shoved her down the
walkway, almost making her trip on her stilettos while he asked, "How long were you there?
In the Red Room? You are a competent enough fighter that you must've been there a while"

Was he actually asking her a question? A personal one?

There was only one reason for that, it had to be him trying to wage her strengths and
weaknesses as payback for what they’d had to suffer. The only other option was that he was
actually curious about her, which was highly unlikely.

"None of your business," she replied simply, deciding she wasn't about to reveal her past to
an enemy out of boredom. But it turned out, her hatred from earlier was not misplaced, it
seemed that Damian truly did know her well.

His intense emerald eyes met her own, face calm and somewhat unamused as he stated, "You
became a celebrity recently, and I couldn't find records of you beforehand. I thought Stark
was just remarkably careful like he mentioned at the press conference of your reveal, but
something tells me you weren't kidnapped by the Red Room recently, you were there since
birth. Meaning you were not a Stark to begin with"

Of course he'd looked up information on her, damned stalker.

"Maybe," she replied absentmindedly, "but something tells me you are the same, that the
fancy boarding school you went to as a child was nothing but a trick to cover up your time in
the League of Shadows"
Damian huffed airily, but did not deny her suspicions. Though he probably thought she hadn’t
noticed, he was too skilled to have been a simple ninja in training for a few years, and Harry
HAD mentioned something about the Wayne popping out of nowhere one day. Those years of
his birth up until late childhood were not accounted for, just like Brook’s.

That meant...neither was raised with their fathers. He'd mentioned something about a mother
at the gala, one he thought Brook had been sent by in the name of the League. Now that she
thought about it, that meant they were both raised by their assassin mothers as kids.

That realization had been enough to keep Brooklyn quiet once again.

A few blocks out was when her stomach realized it hadn't had a proper meal in a while aside
from the little nibbles the children had force fed her. Looking around the large array of street
vendors along the sidewalk, Brook found one that seemed promising. Pulling Damian to the
side of the walkway and away from the flow of the pedestrians, she ignored his cursing and
told him to wait for a moment before rushing over to the vendor. Originally she’d planned to
get something for herself, but at the very last minute, Brooklyn caved and bought Damian
something as well, but she did consider spitting on it before making it back to his side.

When she threw the folded wrapped food his way, ignoring the way one of his immaculate
black brows raised at the act. He beheld her unwrapped burger, and looked like he was about
to throw the food back at her. Brook had a feeling she knew what he was thinking, and were
it not for the bite she took out of her warm burger, she might’ve grinned.

She only shot the food cradled in his calloused hands a look, urging him to unwrap it. When
he did, he was face to face with a few slices of meatless pizza wrapped in rolls rather than a
burger like her own.

"No meat anywhere on that thing, I made sure. I even asked for no cheese in case dairy
products were out of the question for you too," she huffed against the silent accusation, not
looking back at the motionless teen as she moved back into the flow of human traffic. It
wasn’t long before his long strides caught up to her and the demon began walking by her
side.

"You actually remembered I'm vegetarian?" he asked above the noise of the crowd, still
eyeing the food as if it might hold poison.

Brooklyn nodded as she wiped stray ketchup off her rogue lips, "I didn't want you to throw
up all your food on me, and I didn’t want to have to call an ambulance in case you faint from
lack of sustenance. Don't think this means we’re buddies or something, you owe me a buck
twenty five, asshole"

Surprisingly, the asshole actually bit into his food afterwards, and though Damian claimed he
didn't like the greasy food of the streets of Queens, he finished the whole thing before
Brooklyn was halfway through her burger. He was lucky Brook was so tired her stupid brain
thought it was a good idea to buy her enemy food, but there was no way she'd do that ever
again. He was even luckier that her benevolent mood had convinced her to buy two sodas
which she’d stuffed in the front pocket of her backpack. She’d fished them out softly
afterwards, and for once, Damian did not complain about a single thing, just gulped the liquid
greedily.

You know what it's like to be hungry, that's why you bought him all this stuff not because
you're growing a soft spot for your nemesis, Brook had repeated like a mantra in her mind, if
only to feel less like she’d betrayed her family name with a small kindness.

By the time they were close to the school, their food was finished, and the streets were not as
crowded as before. Google maps had not led them astray, and Brook actually recognized
these business streets from Peter's tour once upon a time. Though not there yet, it was safe to
say they’d made it back unscathed.

"You know, for a murderer, you're not bad when it comes to handling the small humans. I
don't know why, but they seemed to like you," Damian said suddenly, almost making Brook
drop her empty wrapper despite the hidden jabs in his words.

Maybe it stunned her so because there was also a hidden compliment in there, or at least she
swore there was.

"Just because I was told to murdered kids as a child in the Red Room doesn't mean I can't
take care of kids now. I’ve done that plenty" she replied back, unable to keep the bite in her
words, she might’ve been slightly triggered for being called a murderer. A nasty habit of his.

Damian paused his steps, shooting out a hand to wrap around her shoulders to halt her own.
Those eyes of his grew colder, as did his mood, when he peered down at her form. For a
second, Brooklyn wondered what had changed, they’d been following their usual banter
laced with insults, yet now the demon looked like he might kill her on the spot.

To her surprise, he didn’t summon any weapons.

"You killed those people at the Metropolis Gala," he said matter of factly, "I saw you do it,
are you too much of a coward to claim those kills as your own?"

Kills? At the gala?

Oh...oh.

He'd seen her fight against the criminals she’d stopped? It all made sense now, his instance
on always referring to her as murderer was not a jab at her past in the Red Room, but rather
because he actually thought she'd killed those lowlives. In his eyes, he thought she was still a
murderer to this day…he had no clue how hard she was working to stray from the path of her
past.

Despite the insult and misunderstanding, Brooklyn found herself chuckling at the
assumption. Damian must’ve understood her reaction differently, because his hand tightened
against her arm, not in a painful way but strong enough that it was impossible to ignore her
nemesis was touching her…even with layers of clothing between their skin.
"I’m not sure I want to know if you followed me or not that night, but I didn't kill those men,
I rendered them unconscious. They were criminals and I made sure they got the sentences of
such, all are alive and currently serving sentences in San Francisco. Though I don’t need to
explain myself to the likes of you, let it be known between us that I don't kill anymore, those
assassin days are behind me now that I'm with my parents. I’m not an assassin like you"

She didn't know why she admitted to that much, or why his silence made her nervous as he
assessed her expression, likely for lies and deceit. When he found none, Damian’s frown
deepened.

"Just so we are clear, I too left my past behind and everything that came with it. I might as
well clear the air so you can stop with the killing comments for me as well, Stark" he
muttered angrily.

His gaze held no lies. None.

Though it changed nothing of their hatred for one another, it was almost like an
understanding passed between them as they stood on that lonely sidewalk face to face, trees
with leaves of orange and red hues fluttering around them with the passing of a gust of wind
they spent in silence. Their eyes did not remain locked to search for lies, they’d gotten past
that, now their stunned silence was simply because this situation—however unlikely—was
hard to digest.

They were both born assassins who refused the life of their beginnings nowadays, and though
Damian Wayne was likely not trying to atone for it by becoming a hero, It was odd to digest
just how many things they had in common despite being so different.

It was actually kind of terrifying. Though she had a handful of people now that she trusted
with her life, it was infinitely scarier to trust someone with her greatest shame, which was the
Red Room. Though there was no way of telling aside from asking, Brook wondered if
Damian had gotten so worked up because speaking of the League was the same for him.

Maybe that's why neither provided further explanations as to their beginnings, why their walk
was spent refusing to look at one another, keeping their focus on anything from the sights of
stores they passed to owners jogging by with their pets so as to not acknowledge the truth
hanging between them.

Once they made it to the front of the school gates at last, Brook was once again stunned
speechless when she realized her friends were already waiting for her, and upon seeing her,
tackled the Stark into a surprisingly pleasant hug which she tiredly returned.

The lot of them reprimanded the Stark for being late, for not answering her phone when they
grew worried at the sight of the arriving bus without her in it, but they still insisted on taking
her out for coffee at their usual place a few blocks down once she admitted her punishment
had been served in full. Brooklyn didn't have the energy to argue against the outing,
especially when Peter enveloped her in a comforting hug that was longer than the others,
congratulating her for making it through the punishment without a single fight.
It was amidst that embrace that Brook glanced over Peter’s shoulder, noticing Jon Kent had
also been waiting by the front gates for his own companion. She watched as the boy clad in a
Midtown football training jersey rushed over to his poised friend, the two exchanging hushed
whispers before guiding Damian down the opposite end of the street claiming they should get
something to eat.

Neither teen informed their friends they'd already eaten, they just stared at each other, not
saying a single word as they were dragged to opposite ways of the street from one another,
the space between them growing larger and larger as the seconds passed. As it should be,
Brook amended, them being as far from one another as possible each with their own friends
is how everything was supposed to be.

They still shot one another a single glare before they both rounded a corner that would leave
the other unseen, but now that they were starting to realize just how alike they might be after
all, it was not as potent as others from the past had been. She could tell that they both hated
it, the lack of intensity behind their normal hatred, yet something about their stares remained
significantly less murderous in those fleeting seconds.

Maybe because it was odd to part after spending most of their day together, their first and last
day or preschool.

At least their punishment was served and they could forget all about being so close to one
another once again. From now on, things would go back to the way they were, and Brooklyn
would never have to question or be puzzled by the actions of Damian Wayne ever again.

Yet when he disappeared around that distant corner, Brooklyn couldn't help but remember the
teen with paint in his warrior’s hands, the delicacy in which he’d held that small brush that
was so at odds with the unwavering grip he’d had on blades meant for destruction.

Bonus:

As Jon guided Damian to a nearby restaurant before they'd have to start their duty to keep an
eye out on the Stark, the Wayne was silently lost in his troubling thoughts when received a
most unexpected call from his father of all people. Jon paused his own ramblings of football
practice once he beheld the caller ID.

“At least you can tell your pops that your punishment ended today, that's good news, right?”
Jon muttered nervously. Even though he wasn’t a Wayne, his friend knew of the rarity that
was Bruce Wayne picking up his cellphone for matters other than work.

Damian, still furious about the words exchanged during the granting of his punishment,
considered not picking up the call. But the allure of bragging that his punishment was now
over was enough for him to decide a six second conversation with his father could be swayed
in Damian’s favor.

When the line connected, there were no greetings or questions about the happenings of the
punishment as Damian had been expecting. Instead, his father sounded unsure and puzzled.
Had the man not been Batman, one of the sharpest minds in the world, Damian might’ve
assumed his father had completely forgotten about the sentence he’d served today.

Bruce merely asked, "Did you order fifty kits of painting supplies on your phone earlier?
Why is the delivery address not the Manor?"

Damian ignored Jon’s wide eyes as the two sat on an elegant little table from the expensive
restaurant Damian had eyed days prior. Though its windows were slightly frosted with the
lowering temperatures, the space was warmed by heaters that kept even the bouquet in the
middle of the table vibrant and alive. Awaiting their menu, Damian absentmindedly began
straightening up the three forks arranged before the carefully painted plate depicting the cities
of Rome.

Perhaps a bit annoyed at his father’s nosiness, he replied coldly, "The stupid preschool
doesn't have enough paints, and those dumb kids don't know how to mix paint, so I had them
delivered since I won’t be returning to that wretched place. Why, am I somehow in trouble
for using my own money for my own reasons?"

Jon let out a strangled cough at the words as he placed the soft cotton napkin across his lap.
From his place across the table left undisturbed by passing pedestrians, Damian’s friend
raised his hands up in the air as if he couldn't quite believe what his super hearing was
picking up.

Damian ignored him.

The line went silent for a few seconds, only for a shuffling sound to take its place, followed
Dick Grayson's voice shouting gleefully, "Never mind, good for you for helping out those
kids in need! Keep up the good work and we'll see you at home when we get back, baby bat!"

Unsure why he was being congratulated, Damian said nothing. Then again, sometimes the
things Grayson said were difficult to decipher. He’d expected his father to get back on the
line and start asking some real questions about his assignment, but his father’s cold voice
never returned.

He heard distant cheers and hushed conversations that indicated more of Bruce’s wards were
there, the line went silent, and thanks to Grayson’s words Damian was finally hit with the
realization that he'd done an unnecessary good deed with that impulse buy on his way back to
Midtown. During the silence of his walk with the Stark, he’d beheld a corner of a painting
sticking out of her backpack when she pulled out their drinks. The artistry was nothing
special, but somehow knowing the bothersome kids didn’t even have the paint to get the
Stark’s auburn hair right had stuck with him. He’d pulled out his phone and made the
purchase, instructing a note to be left on the package as an anonymous donation to the school.

He still hated kids with a passion, but...maybe not all of them were so bad, or at least he
thought so as he took a peek at the awful gifted art inside his backpack from where it lay on
the wooden rack next to his seat.

The novice art reminded him once more of the oddities he’s witnessed amidst the horrors, the
private and beaming smiles the Stark had grated the children when they performed a task
 correctly. He remembered her gentle and soothing voice from when they’d sung along to the
ridiculous melodies, how he’d never imagined something like that could emerge from the
body of an assassin. But he supposed she wasn’t a killer…at least not that day of the gala.

For whatever reason, she’d been very adamant about her turning a new leaf, it almost
reminded Damian of himself during those first years as Robin when he was desperate to
prove to his father that he need not keep an eye on Damian’s blades when they struck during
a mission. Desperate to prove that he now understood that all of his attacks could not be
lethal.

An impatient clearing of the throat from Jon snapped his gaze back to the other side of the
table where Jon began asking far too many questions to make sense of. Thankfully the
conversation halted when the waiter came by with two menus and large mugs of french
pressed coffee with delicate little foam designs Damian never found as interesting as Jon did.

To his annoyance, Damian had failed to notice the restaurant had a heroes theme this month
for some of their dishes. The coffee place before him had the image of none other than Iron
Man as he soared through the foam sky of his beverage.

The waiter, who’d no doubt already identified him as the heir of the Wayne fortune since he
sat down, stared down at the coffee in horror when Damian's gaze met his own. Swiftly, the
man’s shaking fingers switched it out for Jon’s drink, which had a depiction of Black Widow
on its surface. The waiter had no idea this was worse…because, yes, the previous coffee
reminded him of Anthony Stark, and by proxy, Brooklyn Stark. But this, the sight of the tiny
hourglass belt, the symbol of the Red Room, only stirred up his confused thoughts all the
more.

Damian merely reached for the delicate golden spoon on the side and destroyed the design
entirely. Yet as Jon ordered a third of the menu to satisfy his needed caloric intake as a half-
kryptonian, Damian’s thoughts shifted to the troublesome enemy that had somehow
remembered his dietary preferences.

Maybe Stark wasn't a murderous beast after all as well…but that didn’t make their hatred
towards one another any less necessary. Still, he couldn’t help but curse how complicated the
world had become in the span of a few minutes when he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth
shut, and secrets of both their pasts had been revealed.

Chapter End Notes

Here is the fluff some of you have been craving!

Keep in mind big things are coming soon, events a little more challenging than a simple
day looking over kids. That being said, this was a joy to write, and an even greater joy to
finally show a gentler side to the main characters. It was still mildly devastating to sit
down and think of what things the two teens might've missed out on and how they
would react to seeing what their youth could've been like.
 The Tracksuit Draculas
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Of all the ways Brook expected this day to go, she’d never imagined it would be surrounded
by death and danger, with her and her greatest nemesis side by side against it all.

Investigating the crime network of Queens had not taken nearly as long as she'd expected.
Finding the information she'd been searching for took even less time than Brook had
estimated when she'd returned back home from her outing with her friends, which granted her
all the time in the world she needed to process it all.

A decade ago when Brook had been young and nothing but one of Ivan’s disciples, criminals
had operated differently, they’d preferred stealth and animosity above all else. It was the way
Brooklyn was taught to be after all. But once superheroes started popping up all over the
place, the teen had noticed the clever pattern change.

Heroes were big, bright, and in some ways, the most revered celebrities of the world. This
caused villains to get a little bolder, to crave that attention for themselves, and to try and take
out the mighty powers of the world with large and terribly obvious spectacles. It was like the
Broadway plays Tanya often spoke of, people in costumes flamboyantly addressing an
audience with the purpose of entertainment. People like the famous Joker, Magneto, even
Ultron...they preferred the act of the crime rather than the crime itself.

Such extravagance in the crime world of today was abhorrent and a given failure, but tonight,
it would work in her favor after all...

There was a well known crime group in the city of Queens, one who mostly focused on bank
robberies and even a few large scale crimes involving big-shot company buildings down in
Manhattan. Why Spider-man had not tried to go after them yet, Brook wasn’t sure, but she
guessed that by not having the training she’d learned in the Red Room had become a liability
for him to track down what was so simple for her.

This had been simple, enough that she’d let out a stunned laugh after her discoveries came to
light.

Normally, Brooklyn would have to go through the trouble of finding one of these gang
members and torture him until he gave up the base of operations. But since villains were so
idiotic now a days, she'd been able to find their base in minutes all in the comfort of her own
home.

At the end of every crime, the group would leave behind a symbol as a means to calm the
crime for themselves. It was nothing incredible, just two triangles, one atop the other. Had the
cops of the city been smarter, they would've done what Brooklyn did, and searched the
symbol from a different angle. All angles, just to be thorough.

Funny enough, there was a match for the symbol, but not with the two triangles atop one
another, but side by side. It was the symbol of a nearby establishment often ventured by
typical partygoers of Queens, the Amadeus Nightclub.

From her research, Brooklyn was able to calculate that despite their good business, they still
shouldn't be able to afford any of the expensive luxuries the nightclub offered. That paired
with the brief criminal background found on SHIELD files on the owner, it was safe to say
that place was the secret establishment for the Queen's crime gang known as the 'Tracksuit
Draculas'.

Why did she care? Recently, they had been leaving messy crime scenes with scorch marks on
the walls, and a bothersome plethora of dust all over the place…dust Brooklyn recognized
from the day she and Happy were attacked. That was not typical dust, but bodies reduced to
nothing by the use of illegal alien weapons. She’d be willing to wager that the very dust the
custodians swept after the crime scenes were searched, were the missing people the
employers reported after every heist.

So while the police continued to scratch their heads, Brooklyn was already planning to
infiltrate the peculiar establishment. This small mission would be a true waste of her
advanced espionage skills, she was trained for things bigger than small gang infiltrations...but
there WAS one teensy little issue.

Brooklyn was no longer a nameless Red Room assassin. She was a Stark, quite possibly one
of the most well known people in the country right now. If she went in as herself, not only
would that alert the criminals of her involvement as Iron Man’s daughter, but it would also
cause a scandal of large magnitude. A sixteen year old in a less than appropriate
establishment...she was no expert on the intricacies of society, but she figured that wouldn’t
end well at all.

Luckily, Brooklyn had spent a large sum of her early paychecks throughout the years buying
fake IDs, plus wigs and contacts in the desperate need of a quick getaway. Her Red Room
training had been centered on espionage, which is what she would utilize today, only for good
this time.

After having put on a blonde wig and some blue contacts, Brooklyn assumed the fake ID
persona of Emily Lowell, a twenty two year old from Nebraska.

She'd waited to leave her apartment till late in the afternoon, didn’t assume the rest of her
disguise until she’d found a bathroom out the back of a convenience store, which had made
putting on the 'club' outfit all the harder. It was a simple red dress that fitted her form tightly
and ended a little high for her taste, but still concealed all that was necessary. This way, if she
was spotted on the streets or inquired about afterwards, witnesses could only claim to have
seen her blocks away from her own lodging. An excessive precaution, but Brooklyn was
adamant about keeping the Stark name out of this little mission.
Once 'Emily Lowell' made it to the front of the club, the bouncer hadn't lingered during his
inspection of her ID, which had been a relief. The metal detectors inside did not trigger when
she passed, and her purse was lazily checked just as she'd hoped for. She’d seen their security
protocols plenty on posted Youtube videos from partygoers that wanted to document their
experience. It made her lose a little more respect for the Tracksuit Draculas when she’d found
the videos had not been taken down.

It wasn't until Brooklyn was making her way deeper inside the dark building that she realized
this might very well be her first time at an actual party scene that wasn't a high school
football game.

For all her intel, she wasn't even certain that the crime gang would be in there in the first
place, but it was too late to back out now. As soon as Brook had opened the club doors, she
had already been cursing the uncomfortable feel of her black heels, not to mention the great
lengths she’d gone to for animosity, but she told herself it would all be worth it in the end.

Her first priority was stealth, her second...was answers.

The loud booming sounds of the music across the large space was almost deafening, but no
one seemed to care as they swayed their bodies to the music in the darkness, watching the
few multi-colored spotlights shift and flash across the room. Most in attendance had also
donned glowing paint across the expanse of their bodies in various patterns and colors. From
where she stood, they looked like a sea of colorful starlight, only with more booze and drugs.

This place was....as popular as rumor claimed.

The entrance was not cheap, Brook had to pay a hundred dollars cash just to make it inside,
but she supposed this place could certainly be seen by some as a good way to spend such an
ungodly amount.

At the end of the room was a raised platform with a lively DJ supplying the large dance floor
with a good time. Below that stage, individuals dressed in glowing costumes weaved around
the swaying crowds, offering various drinks to their customers...aaaand to the almost naked
men and women dancing on poles across the room.

If the sight of this unchecked chaos wasn't enough for Brooklyn to want to throw up, there
was a bar on the right side stocked with a wall's worth of bottles and a long table full of drunk
individuals stumbling onto one another. The wall across the bar was just as displeasing, filled
with curtained rooms for couples to enjoy a more private party.

Brooklyn swore that if this mission proved useless, she’d hunt down the entirety of the
Tracksuit Draculas just for leading her to this place.

Searching the entire establishment would no doubt take an eternity, and there was no time in
the year when this place wasn't full of people, so it had to be now or risk coming back again.
To begin her search, Brooklyn weaved around the edges of the dance floor as quickly as she
could, fighting the urge to rip the hands of the people who got too grabby with her along the
way.
Once she miraculously made it to the bar, Brook almost dared to breathe a sigh of relief while
ordering a whiskey, checking her makeup and wig were still intact while her feet got some
rest.

When her drink arrived, Brooklyn was reaching into her purse for cash when the bartender, a
man in his mid twenties with combed blonde hair and bedroom brown eyes, shook his head.

"Your drink is paid for, pretty girl," he said, motioning with his thumb to a guy down the
table before going back to tend to other customers.

Brook followed the bartender’s pointed direction where a figure not visibly covered in
glowing paint stood. He wore what she could barely discern as a red jacket and simple pants,
but she could not see his face past the hood above his head. No doubt that he was some creep
eager to get laid by someone wooed by a simple drink. Though she intended nothing more
than to ignore the man, there was a benefit to having dared to peek his way, because that's
when she noticed the wall above the entrance door.

It looked like a simple black wall, but when one of the many moving spotlights hit it just
right, Brook could see the familiar gleam of glass. It was like the observation rooms in the
Red Room, the ones with two way glass.

That was her best bet so far as to where the gang could be.

The teen downed half her drink without a flinch and stepped into the dance floor, avoiding
shifting her gaze upwards in case someone was watching from above. Instead she focused on
the neon symbol atop the DJ area, two triangles side by side facing downwards, like fangs of
a vampire. She beheld it, thought of her lead, and grinned at the stupidity of it all.

Brooklyn moved along the dance floor like any normal person at the club, but unlike them,
she sneaked glances everywhere she could for an entrance that would likely lead to the rooms
beyond this main public space. Unfortunately, that resulted in quite a few guys dancing up to
her with offers of a good time. If only they knew that they were illegally hitting on a
teenager, but their unsavory comments were criminal in their own way regardless, made her
want to break their noses and shatter their bones.

At some point during her lazy dancing and searching, Brooklyn had been startled by the
booming noise of a weapon firing, which was enough for her to almost pull her Stark watch
into place. That was until she realized the sound was not a weapon, but a canon full of golden
confetti now raining down on everyone.

The crowds around her were cheering, while Brooklyn was seriously starting to question if
this secret mission would need further research to find that secret entrance. A glance at her
burner phone indicated it had been almost a half hour since she'd arrived, and still her night
was being wasted amongst sweating bodies and hands clutching her bum.

Maybe she accidentally broke a finger here and there, leaving men screaming in pain with
satisfaction, but most assumed it was just an accidental casualty of the masses being so close
together.
Brook was wondering if she should go back to the bar to try and search undisturbed when she
saw them. Three men that looked very out of place. No glowing paint, no party outfits, not
even a sense of rejoice over the music and ambiance around them. They wore heavy leather
jackets that seemed to be concealing something, that paired with their walk of purpose
towards an unlabeled door was enough for Brooklyn to squeeze her way closer to their side
of the dance floor.

She'd barely caught up in time to see the general outline of the passcode being input into the
inconspicuous keypad by the door. The three men rushed inside with the door closing behind
them, no one in attendance aware of the odd behavior amidst their revelries.

At least Brooklyn had one advantage so far, the door was behind a decorative background for
some pole dancers, and there seemed to be no cameras outside the door or even pointed at it.
The Daculas likely thought that would divert curiosity from it, a foolish effort considering
their men didn’t even bother blending in.

Despite the ache across her tired feet, Brooklyn made her way over to the unlabeled door,
flinching from the loud music against her ears as she stretched out her watch towards the lock
pad. One of the many benefits of investigating the small Stark device and all its functions
was that Brook had a better clue of all it could do aside from blasting people.

She’d originally investigated it further after the incident in the alley, hell bent on not making
another mistake again when utilizing her father’s gift. Using one of Ned’s computers already
packed with the programs she’d need to run a decent analysis report, she’d spotted an array of
useful tools she figured her otets would’ve told her about once her SHIELD training was
done.

"FRIDAY, scan the password," Brooklyn whispered, watching as the small screen on her
watch lit up slightly and shot out a laser-like grid scanning the number pad before it. Soon,
Friday's kind voice read what was displayed on its screen.

"65982"

The door unlocked with ease.

Maybe she was still weary of machine intelligence after her youth, but FRIDAY could be
very useful at times.

Stepping inside the door, Brooklyn noted the long and dark hallway leading downwards to a
basement, one which the plans of the building she'd looked at previously had not shown. As
the door closed behind her, Brook took off her heels and stuffed them into the small purse
latched around her waist before silently making her way down the barely visible steps.

Slowly, the music from the club was becoming muffled, almost like she was going
underwater.

It wasn't until she almost reached the bottom of the steps that the teen noticed a light was
slowly becoming visible, that and faint noises could be heard from down below. Quickly, she
pressed herself against the wall of the stairs, concealing her form in the shadows, even going
as far as to unclip the hidden fabric under her dress and pulling it up to clasp around its
sleeves.

That quick, her vibrant red dress was now a typical black ensemble.

Now, the teen stood silently and listened to the people down below. From what she could tell,
it couldn't be more than eight men and two women. The echo down below was enough to
suggest a large space, and the multiple doors opening and closing suggested there were other
ways out.

Clutching the small plastic-based stun gun hidden underneath her dress, Brooklyn loaded the
weapon before going down a few more steps, carefully keeping her back to the wall to remain
unseen.

"I just talked to the boss, he said that we need to make more storage space available," a male
voice said.

Another sighed, "I don't get why so many orders are coming in, we have more than enough
tools for the next job! This shit is expensive anyways, aren't you afraid the boss is gonna start
cutting the paychecks?"

Somebody else laughed, their steps moving closer towards Brooklyn's direction.

"If this job goes well, I think we all might get a raise!" she said wistfully, "We just need to
work these things a little better so we don't accidentally evaporate our own toes"

Alien weapons that evaporated beings into nothing but dust, a storage space full of them.
Looked like Brook’s bargain had proven correct after all.

"At least all this crap will be shipped off soon for safer storage, it’s always made me nervous
seeing as it could have raditation or something like it that will kill us slowly without even
knowing, ya’ know?" that person let out a yelp of pain at the end of their weary sentence, and
the woman's voice let out a chuckle that echoed across the space.

"You mean radiation?" she corrected, "You dumb ass. If this stuff were that unstable, we
surely wouldn't be using it. Now all of you get your asses up, I'm not bringing those dolly's
down all by myself with my bad back"

At first, Brook thought the group of people might head back her way, from which she'd have
no escape. Thankfully, the sounds of people exiting out a door resonated across the echoing
space, so the Stark was at last safe to go down if only for a few minutes.

What she saw was more than she'd expected....

The room was probably as big as the main dance floor above, though not nearly as equipped
with a high ceiling though. Its walls were filled to the brim, not with alcohol or party
supplies, but boxes upon boxes of weapons.

Glowing weapons.
"Dzhekpot," Brook whispered gleefully. Jackpot.

Much to her own annoyance, all of this would be gone soon enough if what the strangers had
said was true. They’d move the weapons to a more secure storage center that could take ages
to find. Well aware there wasn't nearly enough time to inform Fury so he could come
investigate the place and shut it down in time, much less prevent all the weapons from
disappearing and being used for some mysterious job soon, Brook decided to take matters
into her own hands.

These criminals were known for not being shy about taking lives, and whatever they had in
store was bound to be destructive if so many weapons were needed...but there was enough
time for Brooklyn to prevent that tragedy.

Blowing it all up could have unsavory consequences, especially since the club couldn't be too
far up from her current position. Thankfully, the dumbass who had built this place had
considered that safety hazard for her. In the same way that bunkers were often built, this
place appeared to be a steel reinforced concrete vault. Closer inspection showed that its walls
were definitely made to withstand strong force, even the doors around the place were big,
heavily reinforced...just like bank vaults.

Obviously, Brooklyn didn't bring explosives with her, but this place was being kept clean by
its owners. Beside her was a small cabinet with essential cleaning supplies, which was more
than enough for what she needed.

Taking the thrice calculated bet that being about eighty feet underground was enough to keep
everyone above safe, she rummaged quickly through the various bottles of cleaning supplies.
She supposed the Red Room instructors would've been proud or resourcefulness, using some
hydrogen peroxide and vinegar to make a simple bomb. The blast from the peroxyacetic acid
would no doubt trigger the alien weapons, which Tony and Banner had analyzed these past
few weeks as having very unstable sources of power when in contact with flammables.

The walls would definitely contain the explosion, and the heavy doors would prevent the
criminals within from being severely hurt, which was more than they were worth considering
all the crimes they were helping with.

Quickly, Brooklyn quickly blasted all the code boxes on each exit door with her metal glove,
just to make sure no one would walk in when this thing went off. An additional attempt at
sparing the criminal’s lives.

Without another second to consider her own safety, Brooklyn let both chemicals spill onto the
steel floors, and without looking back, she ran up the eighty feet worth of stairs ahead of her.
Once those two chemicals met in the middle of the room....well, Brook hoped she was past
her own safety door by then.

Even when her legs and bare feet began to ache, the Stark kept on climbing, even using her
hands to crawl up faster until she reached the handle of the door leading to the dance floor.

Brooklyn quickly made her way through, closing it behind her with a panting breath as she
collapsed by it side, her form hidden behind the backdrop before her. As soon as she regained
her breath, which she only allowed a few seconds for, the girl fixed her wig, put her heels
back on, and brought out her red dress once again. Just as she had fixed everything into place,
the giant dance floor began to shake violently, the colorful lights above her shook vigorously,
and all the people on the dance floor stopped the lazy swaying of their bodies as they looked
around each other for support and answers.

For just a second, Brooklyn felt the heat coming from the other side of the door, and she
feared it would not be enough to keep the explosion at bay. But it did, the door held and the
room did not collapse onto itself.

The ground ceased to shake after a few seconds, and even when the music had been off and
people had panicked during that time, they were quick to dismiss it as a simple earthquake.
Laughs were exchanged between strangers, mocking the nature of the earth before everything
was set back into the chaos it had been before. Just like that, no one knew what had
transpired, and their lives remained unbothered despite the risks Brook took to ensure other’s
safety.

Brooklyn took a few seconds to breathe a sigh of relief, clutching her blonde locks like a
lifeline.

That had been close, far too close for her own liking.

Before any of the stationed guards around the establishment began looking to the hidden for
answers, Brook quickly blended back into the dancing crowd, watching as a pair of guards
did end up heading for the closed door, only to flinch at the hot temperature of the keypad
and handle.

She should've left after that crisis had been prevented, but the Tracksuit Draculas had
mentioned something about more weapons being brought in soon. If Brooklyn wanted
beyond satisfactory results on the secret mission, she should still find the leader and make
him talk.

Before she’d blown up the underground space, Brook had known doing so would not be the
end of this mission, but the beginning of a series of falling dominos she’d take advantage of.
It's what made Widows so effective, they planned for the long run.

Luckily, her plan to blow up the underground area came with some other useful purposes.
Just as a tall brunet man had roped her into a dance of grinding bodies, Brook had the perfect
and discrete view of the guards running over to the other side of the club towards the arch
leading to the restrooms.

They tried not to appear panicked as they crossed the space, but she could see it in her
eyes...they were scared, and what did scared puppets do? Run to their master.

Leaving her dance partner without an explanation, Brooklyn began moving across the dance
floor once more, keeping her gaze on those men, especially as they made it to the seemingly
normal restroom area. Making a show of looking more drunk than she was, the teen stumbled
over, shooting a sleepy smile at the guards while making her way into the women's lavatory.
Just before she closed the door, Brooklyn 'tripped' which gave her just enough time to see one
of the hunks reach for a button behind an unassuming painting. In seconds, the group
disappeared behind a secret door, and Brook found her new objective.

Shaking off the drunken act, the girl stepped into the bathrooms and checked the stalls for
anyone. When she found no one in the woman’s space, sure the closest people around were a
drunken couple having sex in the men's room next door, she figured they were occupied
enough for it to be safe to do what she needed to.

Since no one was headed in the direction of the restrooms, the Stark reached around blindly
for the secret button, finding it behind the left side of the golden frame of the art depicting a
sunset illuminating a delicate farm. When the wall shifted to the side and an empty elevator
appeared, Brooklyn smirked as she stepped inside.

While the quiet elevator went up, the girl removed her heels again, took out her small stun
Glock, and moved to the side by the button panel so she'd be unseen as she stepped out.
Brook had no clue what she would find once those doors opened, so she checked the loaded
gun with all the patience in the world, then took out the plastic knife from the hidden
compartment at the bottom of her purse.

The teen hummed along to the gentle elevator music, unphased by the likely danger she was
headed towards. Now onto doing what she did best...assassin work...without killing anyone
of course.

As soon as a sweet ding announced her arrival and the elevator doors opened, the first thing
Brook heard was a conversation coming to a quick halt. Then a man screamed, "Don't tell me
the elevator is broken too!?"

A set of footsteps neared her before she could take a look. Brook quickly got atop the small
support bar of the elevator, and by the time the man in a red tracksuit stepped inside—Koch
MP5 in hand—Brooklyn pounced, both of them crashing onto the other side of the elevator.

As quickly as she could, Brooklyn took advantage of his startled form and used her gun to
stun the man unconscious. When his body fell on the carpeted floor of the elevator, Brooklyn
quickly scrambled up the bar once again, but this time, she climbed up past the panels to the
top of the elevator just as the expected shooting started.

Brooklyn crouched atop the opening as she watched dozens of bullets fly rapidly into the
elevator, destroying its wooden walls and ricocheting off the metal bar. It wasn't until a few
seconds later that it all seized. She could hear as more people were commanded to take a
look, to search for the body of their intruder.

With a devilish smirk, Brooklyn threw her purse off to the side and quickly jumped back
down for some fun at last.

Damian POV-
This had been a foolish move, by far one of the worst ideas he'd had thus far in his life. In
fact, he was certain he'd reached a new level of idiotic behavior, almost close enough to
Todd's typical stupidity.

Then again, his 'brother' would've probably relished in an evening such as this one.

It had started off as an evening like any other, watching the Stark from a distant rooftop
encased in darkness for any suspicious behavior like most days since their arrival. Jon had
been busy complaining about something his siblings did during ‘family game night’ when
Damian noticed the lights of her apartment dwindled sooner than they normally did.

Had she gone to bed so early? Could he truly blame her after the awful day the two had spent
at the pre-school? Even after over a decade of constant training and building up his strength
in every way possible, even Damian was exhausted after their punishment.He was about one
second away from commanding they fly back to Gotham when he noticed a figure leaving
out the side of the Stark’s building.

They had followed a hooded Stark to a convenience store not too far from the main city
square, only to see a completely different person exit the communal bathroom minutes later.

"Where is she?" Damian had asked from his place next to Jon up on a bank’s domed roof
with the crescent moon behind them as their only source of light. The kryptonian’s brows
furrowed, squinting his eyes at the retreating form of the blonde woman who had excited the
one person restroom.

"That's Brooklyn," Jon had explained confidently, "That's her heartbeat, she's just wearing a
wig and...oh my lord, I didn't mean to do that! May the lord have mercy on me!"

Damian spared a glance at his companion, only to see Jon clutching his eyes as if they’d been
burned.

"What is it?" the ex-assassin asked as patiently as he could, noticing the tint of pink on his
friend's cheeks with a roll of his eyes.

Jon whined, "You know I don't have full control of my powers yet! I was using my x-ray
vision to make sure that was a wig, and I accidentally saw her underwe—" Damian cut him
off with a glare that he was surprised was more genuine than most.

Jon had seen her...Damian must be enraged by it because he still had manners no matter their
enemy status, that and the fact that Jon still didn’t have full control of his own powers was
too slow a process to learn a skill by the Wayne’s standards. That had to be it, chivalry and
frustration.

Damian couldn’t help but huffed angrily as he slid down the domed roof with ease, clutching
onto the drain pipe at the side of the building while Jon flew down shortly afterward. Both
teens had enough sense to know something usual was going on.

Either Brooklyn Stark was some sort of stripper, which seemed more likely when they saw
her line up at a busy nightclub, or there was something else at play. Maybe this was his
chance to gain some useful intel after all this time of useless stakeouts.

Of course, it hadn't been that easy to pursue their lead, nothing ever was in life.

Jon had to fly them up to the roof of the nightclub, and using his enhanced vision, they
managed to find an air duct that could lead them inside undetected. Though he was not sure
what he was looking to find, Damian was more driven to find something incriminating on his
enemy, perhaps because of the day spent by her side that had left him questioning things he
shouldn’t.

Damian stopped Jon before he could move towards the opening with a hand against his chest.

"You stay up here, Kent. If I call, you come in and do exactly as I say, otherwise stay up here
and keep a lookout," Damian commanded, earning a childish sigh from the other teen.

"Damian, this is definitely a place we’re not allowed to go into and you know it! If our
parents find out we went to a nightclub, we’ll be grounded into the next century!”

“Relax, boy scout. That’s why you’re staying up here while I investigate,”

Jon rubbed at his face, “You never listen to me! I know you’re going down there no matter
what I say, but you shouldn’t do it alone at least. I can help!"

The Wayne scoffed, "This is a stealth mission now, not a grand plane rescue. Just do as I say
and keep guard, wait for my signal and call me if you see anything suspicious"

When Jon crossed his arms and sighed defeatedly, Damian pulled up the hood of his jacket
and ventured inside the small duct. It ended up leading atop to the main dance floor whose
darkness helped Damian sneak down undetected. It didn't take long to spot the red dress after
that, even less to near the bar she was working her way towards.

The Stark didn't appear like she was waiting for someone, and she also didn't seem to be here
for the 'fun' the establishment offered. It puzzled him, the strong admission she’d told him
hours before replaying in his mind as he settled on a stool far enough that she wouldn’t spot
him.

Though I don’t need to explain myself to the likes of you, let it be known between us that I
don't kill anymore, those assassin days are behind me now that I'm with my parents.

It had seemed like her words were true, yet Damian wondered if her Red Room training had
focused on spouting lies as truths. He couldn’t help but wonder if her true purpose for coming
to this deplorable establishment was to end a life. Even then, the thought was mild.

When the bartender reached Damian, he ordered a simple tap water, careful to keep his face
from being seen just in case someone recognized him as the underage Wayne heir. Being
caught in a place like this would earn him more scolding from father than it was worth.

"What about that woman over there?" Damian asked the bartender pointing the Stark's way,
who didn't look like herself at all in that elaborate getup of long golden locks and blue eyes of
similar shade to those of his 'elder brothers'.
"The blonde babe?" the bartender asked, "Just ordered a whiskey. Why, you gonna pay for it
to make a move?"

The last thing Damian wanted to do was help Stark in any way, much less send flirtatious
advances society deemed acceptable, but he needed to know why she was here of all places.
So he flashed out a twenty from his pocket, paying for both drinks without a word.

Stark being at a club was already a crime in itself, ordering an alcoholic drink even more so.
Damian should've called his father, given a report of what was going on so the girl could be
publicly humiliated by the police...but he didn't, despite his better judgment. For all the bad
qualities he could name of the Stark, he’d figured by now that she wasn’t entirely
incompetent, she was intelligent enough to almost best her at times after all. That alone was
enough for Damian to continue his investigation.

After receiving her drink and speaking to the bartender, she turned to look his way. Damian
had to turn away to avoid detection, which only led him to gain the unsavory attention of a
woman seated beside him who had seen his twenty dollar bill fly across the bar.

"You got any more cash?" she asked, stepping closer to him, enough so that he could feet her
bare legs against the fabric of his pants with disgust, "I can show you something fun if you
have another twenty"

The Wayne had enough of that, grabbing onto the half-naked woman's wrist a little forcefully,
watching as she flinched, puzzled eyes staring into his own.

"Go away harlot," was all Damian said, sending the woman and all the others sitting at the
bar far away from him simply by the commanding tone of his voice. By the time he had
turned back around, Stark was gone, lost in the crowd of dancers. He tried not to let out a
string of curses as he searched and searched the masses dancing close enough to resemble
sardines in a can.

From their glowing paint, their closeness, and the darkness in the room, Damian spent a good
ten minutes searching for his enemy to no avail. It wasn't until the ground began to shake that
Damian's gaze left the dance floor.

Whispers of an earthquake spread around him, but Jon's sudden call proved otherwise.

"I swear to you I just heard something blow up in there. Are you alright, please tell me that
wasn’t you? I don’t want to explain to my dad that Brooklyn Stark died in a nightclub along
with hundreds of casualties just because she upset you,"Jon said, causing Damian to frown
suspiciously.

That was definitely not an earthquake then, but one easily dismissed as such.

"Of course it wasn’t me, everyone is fine here but I lost the target" he replied back, earning a
chuckle from Jon as Damian stood from his seat to better scan the space beyond, constantly
shooing away individuals that came up to him with offers of glowing paint…and to put it on
him.
"Her name is Brooklyn, not a shooting mark!" Jon replied, "Besides, I can’t help you find her,
the beams on the dance floor have lead so my x-ray vision is useless. Even if I went down
there, I can already tell there would be too many smells and heartbeats for me to discern
Brooklyn's"

Damian searched around his area, quickly hanging up the phone when he at last spotted the
red dress among the crowds. Stark was dancing with a man, letting his hands wander to her
hips, his face closer and closer to her own. The Wayne had half a mind to go over there and
cut his head off...to spare him from having to deal with someone like Brooklyn Stark, but she
was not focused on that man at all.

She was watching the cluster men making their way to the restrooms. Men in suits built like
tanks, who looked panicked and breathless as they rushed somewhere.

By the time Damian had made his way there, past the disgusting drunk bodies around him
that had probably wrinkled his clothes, he noticed the wall near the restrooms closing with a
soft click. A secret entrance. It took seconds for Damian to find the hidden compartment
behind a fake of Thomas Kinkade's 'Sunset at Riverbend Farm' painting, but it was a while
before it opened to reveal an elevator. Or at least that's what it had been when the Stark
ventured inside it.

It was completely destroyed.

Bullet holes along the metal walls, brown carpet shredded, and its lights flickering as if in
fear. On the side, there was an unconscious body of a man in a tracksuit with a discarded gun,
his blood staining what remained of the carpet littered with spent bullets. Damian didn't take
further time to consider his options, he made his way inside and let the elevator go up to its
unknown destination while he checked on the man.

He was alive, shot a few times on the leg, but otherwise unconscious with a heavy sedative.

The sight alone was enough for Damian to reach within his red jacket, fetching a small metal
handle that quickly expanded into his katana with the press of a button. He turned off the blue
glow his katana gave off from its middle in favor of stealth. Without much hesitation, he
climbed up onto the roof of the elevator in case any unfriendlies shot at the elevator once the
door opened, and as he knelt near the thick and shifting metal cables, the teen noticed a small
purse was already there.

Of course Stark would think to do the same if she was shot at...it was likely that the Stark
might not be dead yet after all. Whether or not she’d been the one to shoot actual bullets onto
the man below was yet to be determined. He didn’t know why he was debating that last bit,
normally, Damian would just assume he’d been lied to and that the Stark was the murdered
she’d claimed not to be. Glancing at the small purse left abandoned by its owner, Damian
wondered which of his battling assumptions would win in the end once he found her again.

When the elevator resumed its path and the doors opened, the first thing Damian heard was
screaming. Low, and full of suffering. It wasn’t near the elevator, and even though he waited
a few seconds to see if anyone would investigate the lonely ascension, no one came. There
was only the distant sounds of fighting, things breaking, and the faint thud of him flipping
back down onto the ruined carpeted floors.

Stark was a Red Room assassin, an afternoon spent with children where she seemed innocent
and docile did not change that. Yes, they had reached some sort of agreement that they were
both out-of-commission killers, but some part of him still realized those assassin skills must
lay dormant in her as they did within the Wayne himself.

Despite all that was before him, some part of him stupidly believed she wouldn't kill, but it
was always better to be safe...

Even though Damian Wayne was not exactly expecting a bloodbath as he peeked into the
secret room, he was still met with a rather confusing sight.

He was Robin, he'd seen quite a few things in his life, but nothing quite like this.

The room was relatively large, full of expensive trinkets and furniture if the golden accents
and jade decorations were anything to go by. He recognized a few paintings along the walls
that unlike the one that hid the button to the elevator, were real. This was a space, no doubt,
for the owner of this atrocious establishment.

Yet elegant lamps were knocked on the floor, bullet holes decorated nearly every maroon
wall and piece of dark furniture, but there was no blood in sight. Probably because the only
things that could bleed were hanging up from the massive chandeliers in the middle of the
ceiling. A cluster of people, the same massive men Damian had caught a glance of earlier,
were held upside down in place by belts, chains, or karaoke microphones. They were not
hung in deadly ways, they were just immobilized, looking more uncomfortable than
anything.

Their speech was rendered useless with their lavish ties on their mouths, but Damian knew
that whatever they were trying to say was probably as pathetic as they looked. Damian knew
no establishment would have these many weapons unless it was up to something, and
scattered on the plush couches were dozens of them, some like the ones Gotham had dealt
with recently.

Damian didn’t sheathe his katana, nor did he linger his gaze upwards for the men to
accidentally identify. Instead, he went over to inspect the weapons below the wiggling
bodies. Sure enough, the weapons were not entirely of this world, and when held the rifles
and guns lit up in a familiar blue hue that was almost unnatural.

This is why Damian was in Queens to begin with, to find intel about these weapons, and it
appeared that despite the rest of his family currently struggling to find the Joker and his
allies…he was finally getting somewhere.

A deafening scream was heard again, this time, Damian could pinpoint it from the closed
room to his left where a set of large mahogany doors stood with golden handles and carved
triangles. From his place kneeling on the floor, the teen raised his katana waiting for an
attack, but none came.
Ignoring the muffled screams from the hanging sardines, Damian wasted no time rushing
across the room. Leaping atop the ruined furniture and kicking the doors open, katana ready
to deflect any bullet coming his way, Damian paused at its entrance unsure what he was
looking at.

The first thing he saw was a man, probably in his forties with a graying mustache and
receding hairline. Those were his better qualities at the moment, because his face was
bruised, and his brown tracksuit was full of blood...no...it was wine, there was a broken bottle
scattered on the ground.

Beside him was the blonde with the red dress, and when her blue eyes met his own she set
down the newspaper in her hand...not a weapon. Even in disguise, Damian could tell this was
the young Stark, he figured that after dancing so closely to her and fighting her, there
wouldn't be an identity she could take in which he would not distinguish her.

He could recognize that gentle nose anywhere, those big mysterious eyes no matter the color,
and that way her lips subtly quirked when she was startled. The fairness of her skin was a
color he’d memorized enough to paint, and those red lips of hers were undoubtedly the
feature that would give up her identity if there was a room full of girls dressed the same as
her.

Upon further inspection, Damian realized the Red Room assassin did not seem to be torturing
the man in the tracksuit. She was just sitting atop a lavish desk full of papers and trinkets,
newspaper in hand, with the man tied to the chair before her.

In the seconds of his inspection, Stark's eyes went wide, recognition flashing amongst them.
It seemed she was about to say something before she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and
jumped down from the table with the grace of a feline.

"You...are you here to demand thanks for the drink you bought me? What are you doing here
in the first place?" she asked, voice set higher than her usual tone. Of course she was careful
enough to conceal even the most inconsequential aspects of herself at a time like this, it was
something he would've been impressed about if he didn't hate her so much.

"I could be asking the same thing," he replied, deepening his own voice, "it’s seems you ARE
involved in dealing with these cowardly villains after all"

Stark rolled her eyes, clenching and unclenching her firsts as she leaned on the table behind
her, "I told you, I'm not as awful as you make me out to be. Killing isn't my thing now a days,
its stopping idiots like these that threaten to ruin my mildly peaceful existence"

Brooklyn Stark was working to stop this weapon's industry after all, just like her father and
the Avengers were likely doing. Just as Damian and his family were. It almost made him
wonder if she was trying to follow in her father's footsteps the way Damian had been doing
with Bruce for the past six years. In the way he’d become a vigilante, a knight of Gotham,
Brooklyn had somehow taken it upon herself to try and take on the mantle of hero?

It was a possibility, an odd one at that.

"Are..." Damian paused, realizing he had to be careful with his words given their audience
neither teen seemed keen on killing, "Did you come alone?"

The girl sauntered closer to the tied up man, clutching his tear stained cheeks harshly with
her manicured hands. If he looked close enough under the orange light of the vintage
candelabras above them, he could still see small spots where paint from this morning
remained. A small sign of their shared experience together.

She turned back to face Damian only when the man began crying again.

"Of course, this is a solo mission per se. But why would someone like you care? How do you
even know about all this stuff, and it can't just be because you caught me...that one day" she
asked, referring to the Gala incident they had discussed in the afternoon.

Damian was suddenly at a crossroads.

He would most certainly not reveal his identity as Robin, that was out of the question. But
should he claim part in trying to stop these criminals as an ex-assassin trying to keep his
family safe from the rising alien weapons on the streets, or would she think he was working
for the criminals if he said nothing?

The young Wayne was certain the last point was probably crossing her mind, because
Brooklyn reached her for a knife on the table, but did not point it at the man beside her.

"I'm here doing my own investigations to stop these men, infiltrations in other cities caught
my attention," he said simply, “Their weapons are too dangerous to be let loose”

Letting go of the crying man, Brooklyn sighed as she lowered the knife. Instead of asking any
more questions, she surprised him when she moved to stand by the large windows
overlooking the lively club below.

"So you are concerned for your own home? Thought you might as well use your skills to put
a stop to it? What does...your superior think of this?" she asked, back facing his still form by
the room’s entrance.

Once he realized Stark would not attack, Damian sheathed his katana at last, keeping his
facial features out of sight from the tied up stranger as he made to stand a good distance away
from the girl, but still joined her by the tinted windows with hands elegantly crossed behind
his back.

She was being careful with her wording too, not wanting to give the criminal behind them
anything to identify them by. By superior, she must mean his father.

"He knows I am trying to stop these men, he has...approved my mission. What about your
own? Do they know you are here wreaking havoc on unassuming nightclubs?" he asked, still
unsure why an Avenger was not here instead of a teenager.

The Stark's gaze lingered on the dancing individuals below whose glowing body paint made
them look like Christmas lights on a darkened street. With a sigh, she turned back to face him
with a frown replacing the grin he’d grown so used to seeing these past few days.

"My...superior and I are working towards the same goal. But I have missions of my own,
things my particular training is better suited for, especially when it comes to lowlives like the
Tracksuit Draculas" she said, shooting a mocking glare at the man tied up behind them.

Damian realized two things at that moment, things that perhaps further shook the perceptions
he’d had of the girl beside him which he’d practically carved in stone after their first meeting.

The first of which was that both he and Stark were trying to accomplish the same thing, but
she was much more ahead than he was at the moment. She DID have information he and his
family needed after all, which meant his mission had not been wasted time and effort. The
second thing was that the Stark had been honest about her change of occupations, her
determination to not kill being true.

He didn’t know where that left him. Despite standing side by side in relative peace amidst the
glow of colorful lights against their skin, both in disguise, fighting for the same objective,
Damian knew that their temporary truce wouldn’t last forever.

The best he could do for now was try and get as much information as he could.

"How many weapons do they have then?" he asked, earning a chuckle from the teen beside
him who was smoothing the lapels of her red dress.

Brooklyn turned to face him, eyes alight with that annoying mischief of hers as she said, "I'm
sorry, am I supposed to answer to you now? You really think I'm going to tell you all I know
just because you think you can deal with this stuff yourself. I don't know if you followed me
or what, but you need to leave this to the professionals"

He was a professional. He was the Robin of Gotham, the heir of the League of Assassins.

"You have no clue what I'm capable of," he replied in favor of admitting more truths, "but I
will continue trying to stop these men no matter how right you think you are about me and
my ability to be involved in this case"

A moment of silence stretched between them as confetti cannons fired on the other side of the
window before them. It almost made it seem like it was innocently raining drops of colors
around them, were it not for the lights that glinted off the metal of the katana and knife in
their hands, it may have seemed like they were just normal teenagers.

Those blue eyes looked up into his own, and Damian fought the urge to command she go
back to her usual chocolate brown eyes that turned a honeyed color in the light of the sun.
Not because they looked bad or because he cared for such mundane things, but he’d rather
see his enemies eyes instead of fakes.

Eventually, the girl sighed and muttered, "Well you made it this far, I suppose you’re not
entirely useless. But I don't want you getting in the way of this, if you do I'll have to stop you
one way or another"
It took a great amount of self restraint not to cut off her head right then and there. Instead of
staining the carpet with her blood, he was about to ask for the information she'd gained from
the tied up leader, but his muffling was getting louder and louder behind them.

Eventually, Stark grew tired of it as well and walked over to the man to rip the tie out of his
mouth. Before the old man could begin screaming, Brooklyn leaned down and kept her
furious gaze on him.

"What!? Do you want me to destroy another one of your limited edition Funko Pops again?
Or are you going to shut up!?" she yelled. Damian followed the man’s gaze to a nearby spot
on the ground where a bubblehead-like doll lay ripped in half. Now that he bothered to
notice, there were dozens just like it on glass shelves behind the main desk, displayed like
trophies.

Is that how she’d tortured the man? Really? The man was already visibly sweating at the
thought of more of his odd obsessions being destroyed, but his panicked gaze suddenly
turned slightly less so when a twinkling noise came from his desk.

The man smirked then, turning to the double doors on the other side of the room, which
Damian had assumed to be some sort of closet or storage unit. Even the Stark straightened up
at the noise, knife twirling to her other hand as she pulled up a sheer hand gun with the other.

From the darkness of those doors emerged another elevator, there stood a cluster
of...mutants?

They had to be, Damian realized. One had reptilian skin, the woman next to him was covered
in black mist, and the person in the middle, much taller than the others, had a large metal
caveman club that was probably as long as Damian's height and had to weigh at least seven
times his weight.

The individuals in the elevator did not exit, they just stared at the man tied up on the chair.
He had to be their leader, who was apparently working with some of those rogue mutants the
media loved to criticize to the point that it was no surprise that some turned to less than
savory jobs.

The man in the track suit chuckled at last, wiggling against his restraints.

"I don't care who you two are, or who sent you, but you destroyed my weapon supplies and
broke my limited edition Giant Steamboat Willie pop...goons, kill them both!" the man said,
commanding the mutants inside the elevator into action.

The leader's following maniacal laughter cost him, because his tied up form went tumbling
backwards to the ground, hitting his head in the process like an idiot. Damian was busy
staring at the pathetic balding man when he heard the girl beside him sharply intake a breath
along with a whispered curse.

In the blink of an eye, Brooklyn Stark grabbed onto Damian's hand and despite his confusion,
he ran along with her as they slid atop the large desk, flipping it over on its side to cover them
just as one of the mutants shot something towards them.
The table had been enough to guard them from the blow of orange sparks now raining around
them. The action did send many papers and objects flying around the room, but it was not
enough to muffle the sounds of the booming music from below.

Beside Damian, Stark was already re-loading her gun single handedly, her other hand was
still intertwined with his with her knife between their palms, but their panting and focus on
the problem at hand was enough for the Wayne not to slap it away.

Wide eyed, Brooklyn turned towards him, flinching when another blow struck the table
against their backs, sending splinters of wood everywhere.

"We need to run, now" Stark panted, blowing her blonde bangs out of her face.

Damian expanded his katana with his free hand, adrenaline already coursing through his body
as he argued, "They will get away if we do, it's better if we stop them now"

Stark snuck a glance atop the table, only to have her head almost blow off with another
unnatural attack, the only casualty being a few strands of her blonde wig atop her head thanks
to her reflexes.

"Damn it! SHIELD and the cops will be here any second, the Tracksuits won't have time to
flee. But if we don't go now, those lowlives might be powerful enough to kill us" she
whispered harshly, taking in a steady breath before turning back to fire a few shots at the
enemies who seemed to be getting closer, their footsteps getting louder and their laughter
booming across the room. When she collapsed back against the table, he could see that
whatever she had seen during her attack had been enough for her to want to flee.

Hand still in his own, small silver knife between their palms, Brooklyn Stark shifted to a
crouch as if ready to flee.

Damian had the usual urge to go his own way, leave the girl beside him to her own devices
while he did things his way. He despised the Stark more than anyone in the world, but the
thought of leaving her behind to an uncertain fate...it didn’t feel right.

Tactically, she could know of ways out of this place he didn’t, the Stark could still be aware
of information he didn’t have. Information he wouldn't get if she was dead. Maybe that's why
he stayed by her side, nodding once as he moved to a crouch, getting ready to flee out the
door before them.

He wasn't sure why he trusted her to make the necessary cover to keep them both from being
killed once they left the safety of their battered table, why he was certain she would not kill
anyone in the process.

But he did. Damian granted the one thing he’d figured no one but his family and Jon would
ever have, his trust. Locking gazes for a few seconds, both panting, the two shared a silent
understanding. They’d make it out of here alive, no risks, no arguments.

Damian did not hesitate once as they sprung up from their hiding place hand in hand,
avoiding projectiles of who knew what as they weaved around and above the furniture in
their way till they made it closer to the door. They were close enough that he was able to
complete his silent and improvised task, as Brooklyn turned back to give them some cover
with that gun of hers, Damian drove his katana into an electrical outlet beside the doors so
they could have the cover of darkness on their side.

Stark did not flinch at the sudden change of light, she just squeezed his hand once in
affirmation to keep going as their enemies shrieked over the change. Surprisingly, he did not
have to guide her through the shadows, she was capable enough to follow as they both
sprinted the way they came.

The distant music continued to play in the distance as they jumped over a bar table, rolling
under a pool table in perfect sync. Their steps almost went along to the bass of the drums of a
song neither teen recognized, the only thing they could hear were their own panting breaths.

Ignoring the rising shouts of frustration behind them and the rising glow emerging from the
room they’d left behind, the two teens ran as fast as they could across the main room, each
having enough sense to pick up one of the alien weapons she'd discarded on the shredded
couches below the tied up bodies. Their glow served as guidance towards the elevator, but
also as insurance for further intel. Despite their additional cargo, neither faltered in their
retreat.

The ex-assassins were calm and collected despite the situation they were in, Damian
supposed that wasn't as odd as his mind was making it to be, she was probably trained to
keep her calm just as he had been. Maybe he’d been working alongside Jon for too long to
expect panic and shrieking screams.

When they made it inside the ruined metal box, Damian was quick to press the down button
on the elevator, cruising in every language he knew when the doors didn't close.

"It's busted," Stark said with a sigh, "Guess there is only one way out now, the hard way...as
always"

Before Damian could reprimand her from stating the obvious as he kept hitting the button
with the hilt of his katana, he noticed her hand’s warmth left his own, that she was already
climbing onto the top of the elevator. Just as she’d made it past the light panels, she shouted
down at him, "You better not look up my dress. That paired with the fact that you likely
followed me to this place, it's gonna make me think you have a thing for me or something"

Trust a Stark to make a joke in a dire situation.

Damian scoffed, "Don't flatter yourself, Stark"

Despite the slight heat spreading across his cheeks at the crude implications, Damian waited
until his nemesis made it up to throw up the alien weapon he fetched, then expertly climb up
in seconds, crouching beside her as they stared down at the three-floor fall visible from the
sides of the sill metal box.

Again, Damian didn’t have to point out the plan formulating in his head, almost as if their
minds were working in sync as they made it to the cables near the walls of the elevator
tunnel. He did not have to assist in any way as they both slid down their respective cable
towards the main floor.

Though he would never voice it, it was pleasant not having to save or command a useless
individual who couldn't do anything. It certainly made this situation all the easier.

By the time the pair pried open the hidden door, they both heard loud and frustrated
screaming from up above, and when the elevator hanging above them started to groan,
Damian knew the mutants would be on them in no time.

As they exited past the open wall, Stark pulled them to the vacant ladies restroom despite
Damian's slight hesitation. There, she quickly ran to one of the sinks, opening the purse she'd
retrieved from the top of the elevator.

Damian stood guard by the closed door, sword at the ready as he reprimanded quietly, "What
are you doing, fixing your makeup at a time like this? Because I'm almost certain we should
be getting ready for a fight, one that will result in many human casualties if we leave this
bathroom!"

Brooklyn scoffed loudly, and he caught the girl rolling her eyes on the reflection of the mirror
before them.

"You're thinking too much like an assassin all the time, we need to go about this in terms of
espionage now. If they see us, they will attack, and though I hate to say it...you are right
about that human casualties" she said, taking off the blonde wig and contacts with quick
precision.

Now that her usual appearance was back, Damian could finally stare at the face of his usual
enemy. Said person used hidden straps of fabric to turn her dress from red to black in
seconds, and once that was in order, she rushed over to him, grabbing his red jacket and
harshly began taking it off him.

"What do you think you're doing!?" he asked, almost fighting her movements until they heard
another heavy groan, likely from the broken elevator making its descent somehow.

"If they can't find us, they won't attack! Not when they don't know SHIELD is on their way,
they likely still think they can keep their business running in secret if they find us, but only if
they don't make a scene!" she whispered harshly, practically ripping the jacket off him,
sending his katana to the ground.

"So you suggest we hide like cowards?" he asked, earning a glare from the girl. Stark gave no
explanation as she put on his jacket, adjusting the large sleeves along her elbows as she
pointed outside the closed bathroom.

"We're not hiding, it's called survival, often mistaken with cowardice," she said mockingly,
"We are making a discreet exit. I destroyed their weapon's supply earlier, have the
information about their seller, and we both have some of their weapons. We can’t afford to be
caught, so there is nothing left to do but leave. SHIELD will take care of the rest"
Damian hated to admit it, but he could see her plan was solid.

His grandfather had always taught Damian to fight through his problems, but the League of
Assassins was not big on espionage training. Perhaps, just this once, he'd relent this argument
with the Stark...just for the sake of their overlapping missions.

"Then we should leave now before we are forced to kill anyone in our way," he said, moving
towards the door before he was stopped by the feeling of a hand on his wrist, halting his
steps.

Stark shook her head, wild red tresses pooling across the hood of his jacket, "I thought the
bulky guards in suits were all the security this place had, but the Tracksuit Vampires are
clearly allied with some mutants I was not expecting, and some aren't as visibly
distinguishable. If there are more mutants out there in the crowd, they will likely know what
to look for, so we need to change our appearance as much as we can"

With that, the girl sent Damian out the hall to the large basket full of lost clothing items.
Damian almost gagged at the thought of putting something on that wasn't his, an item that
had likely sat in that poor pile for days and could be stained with just about anything from
sweat to unthinkable substances.

Still, he angrily picked up an orange hoodie that was the least like his usual ensemble of
clothing. It was large enough to conceal his form, making him look less fit than he'd appeared
upstairs. The hood was also enough to conceal his facial attributes, but it smelled like
alcohol, sweat, and some awful cologne.

Whoever had owned that hoodie was a barbarian, a lowlife who would pay for this one day.

When the Wayne returned to the bathroom, Brooklyn's hair and face was concealed by his
hood. She looked completely different from before, her own Stark attributes hidden well
enough.

Both teens concealed all their weapons as best they could before venturing out to the dance
floor, but a loud crashing noise was heard past the vibrations of the loud and deafening music
around them.

The mutants had made it down somehow.

Damian was quick to pull the Stark back inside and towards an empty stall before that wall
panel opened. They could only hear the loud voices out in the hall, shouting descriptions of
the teens’ appearances on walkie-talkies and to guards just as she'd predicted might happen.

They both stood there, with his classmate squeezing the arm around her collar bone tightly,
for once not as a move meant to attack her. Both knew that if they were found, this would be
over and actual fighting would need to break out. The stall was far too small to house them
both, her back was pressed tightly to his front and his face rested in the line of sight of her
auburn hair. This close, he could smell her shampoo, a blend of vanilla and roses he’d only
caught a whiff of earlier today when he’d woken to find her sleeping close to him.
He couldn’t help but curse the fact that it was too late to try and call Jon for backup, it would
make far too much noise. Besides, unlike Damian, the kryptonian did not have an assassin
background alibi to throw at Brooklyn should she question Kent’s arrival and involvement.

So they waited nervously until they heard the shouting and footsteps recede, at which point
both let out relieved sighs. Once the danger was gone and the pair realized just how close
they were to one another, the two quickly stumbled apart as they exited the stall, shooting
disgusted glances at one another.

Damian absolutely despised the amount of times he'd been forced to touch that girl.

"We should go now, before my weariness of mutants is proven correct," Stark said, sneaking
a peek out the door, shooting a thumbs up his way before they both hesitantly made their way
out towards the colorful lights, loud music, and the masses of drunk dancers.

One of Damian's great qualities was his attention to detail in most things in life, one of those
being his skill to recall people with ease. It was that ability that allowed him to notice five of
the mutants amongst the crowd, searching like sharks in the dancing crowd, looking for even
the smallest scent of blood.

Brooklyn’s gaze locked on them too, and she guided them the other way towards the main
doors with her head down. They might have been able to make a quick exit, were it not for
the fact that two of the mutants took guarding stances at the entrance, scanning anyone that
left the establishment with careful—almost rough— searches.

Damian clutched the girl's wrist, subtly shaking his head in their direction. They could risk
not being recognized in their new disguises, but they’d be identified as the Stark and Wayne
heirs easily enough. If they connected the dots between the chaos that occurred and Iron
Man’s daughter being here, a fight could break out, and the casualties they’d been so careful
to keep at bay would be for naught.

The pair was left with no choice but to go back towards the dancing crowd.

The masses around them quickly became an uncomfortable presence that had Damian
standing stiffly, trying to preserve his personal space by pushing as many people away as
possible. That was until his nemesis quickly grabbed onto his hands, pulling them back to his
sides. When he glared down at her, acutely aware of the little space between them, the Stark
didn’t hesitate to meet his stare with one of her own.

Still, she leaned upwards closer to his face, raising her hands in the air like the drunk idiots
around them as she whispered, "Dance you moron,"

"I beg your pardon?" Damian shouted back, "I will not take part in this unsuitable behavior..."

Brooklyn reattached out and raised one of his hands with her own as they made their way
through. She did move closer to his side, enough so to whisper, "If you don't dance, you'll
stand out. Right now we're stuck here until we can be sure our new looks aren't recognizable.
Even though we don't look like the people who tried to 'kill' their boss, we are still not
wearing the best disguises in the world"
He knew that, it had been swirling around his mind since the entrance was blocked. Aside
from the obvious dangers he’d already considered, he was painfully aware this could become
a full blown scandal not just in the sense that two underage teens from the Stark and Wayne
family lines were out partying...but particularly because they’d be discovered together.

So, despite his ever growing annoyance, Damian relented to her unruly request by raising his
other hand up in the air, but refused to do much more as he traversed around the sweating
bodies around him. If only he could fly away towards the ceiling where no people were
around...

Fly. The roof. Jon!

Desperately looking around, Damian finally saw a door labeled with an emergency staircase.
It might as well have been labeled as a saving grace. Without a second thought, he began
pulling Brooklyn that direction.

When she began complaining, Damian leaned down to whisper, "If we can get to the top of
the building, I can get us out of here", which was apparently enough for Stark to nod
hesitantly.

To aid in their blending in, the Stark quickly reached in the direction of a passing worker, one
carrying a tray with metal bowls full of the glowing paint everyone wore. She didn’t take her
eyes off him as she dipped two fingers into the closest paint, one that glowed a turquoise
shade that was more green than blue.

With a resigned bite of her lip, she spread that paint across her cheeks carelessly, which
ended up looking like splatters of paint that wove along the bridge of her nose. Damian knew
what was coming next, but he could do nothing but stand still as she reached up and did the
same with his face. The moment her warm fingers made contact with his tanned skin, as he
was getting ready to pry them off, the trace of them left as quickly as it came.

There they stood in the middle of the crowd, a glittering and glowing spread of paint across
the middle of their faces neither wanted. Perhaps it was even more annoying that they were
matching in design, another thing to tie them together on this most despicable day.

He reasoned it was not wanting to have anything else in common with his enemy, or perhaps
it was the artist soul within him, that reached out to swipe the remaining paint on her fingers
and quicker than his mind could catch up, he used it to swirl the paint across her pale cheeks
in a way that the blue hues of it made the clever designs more visible.

Neither bothered to comment on his actions once he was done, but they kept their gazes apart
from one another as he held onto her (his) jacket’s sleeve to drag her the right direction.

Maybe Damian wouldn't be able to get them out by jumping from building to building seeing
as they were quite a distance apart, not to mention it would be far too slow that they might
get caught eventually...but Jon would be able to fly them far away for sure. He only hoped
Jon was using his x-ray vision to see all that was happening so he could be ready, though he
hoped his friend’s lead limitation had not caught the ‘paint’ incident. Actually, he’d be
willing to sacrifice Jon having seen that and mocking him for it if it meant his friend was
currently getting ready for their speedy exit, especially as one of the mutants caught sight of
the moving pair. At first she dismissed them, but then her hands began to flash like a beacon,
which drew her attention back to them.

Still concealed behind their hoods, Damian watched as the mutant's power somehow alerted
her of their location. He quickly moved to clutch the Stark's so he wouldn’t lose her in the
crowd as he rushed them to the stairs.

Once past the emergency door, away from the chaos, Brooklyn stopped their rushed pace to
break the glass encasing of an emergency hatchet with her purse. After placing the tool
against the handle to prevent it from opening, the two quickly ran up the winding stairs as
fast as they could, doing their best to ignore the pounding against the door...especially when a
large booming sound reached them when they made it halfway, no doubt an indication door
had been pried open. Probably by that large mutant who must have some form of enhanced
strength.

As quickly as they could, both enemies rushed up to the emergency escape towards the dark
and lonely roof, almost crashing against the door as they quickly unlocked it to reveal the
chill of the night. With the end of the plastic gun previously inside the pocket of her (his)
jacket, Brooklyn shattered the lock on their end, hopefully buying them some time.

But it was not Jon standing there as Damian had expected...he was not the one whose gaze
they met upon turning around and crashing their backs against the rusting door.

"Spider-ling? What the fuck are you doing here!?" Brooklyn screamed beside Damian, letting
go of Damian’s hand.

The hero of Queens was standing before the two, clad in that familiar red and black suit, and
looking almost guilty as he rubbed the back of his neck. For a second, Damian wasn’t sure
what to do in the presence of the city’s hero, could do nothing but try and catch his breath.

Spider-man was there...and Stark knew the mysterious man.

Damian had often envisioned Brooklyn Stark as a criminal, a killer who had trained in the
Red Room. But even after the revelations he’d learned today, it was often that he forgot her
connections to the Avengers, and evidently, SHIELD.

It was still a peculiar sight to see his nemesis speed-walk over to the hero with such
familiarity, without an ounce of fear towards the man as she swung her purse at Spider-man's
head with all the force she could muster. The sound of it meeting its mark was only dulled by
the fact that Spider-man didn’t even seem fazed by the force, his head remaining still as he
begged for forgiveness for a mistake Damian Wayne could not discern.

The spectacle before him had distracted them enough that the two heirs almost forgot why
they’d been running in the first place.

Just then, the sound of footsteps seemed to echo louder from the other side of the door behind
him, and even as he sheathed his katana...Damian wasn't entirely sure what else to do at the
 moment aside from hiding his identity from this untrustworthy stranger now that Jon was
missing.

If Spider-man was an enemy of Stark’s (despite that normally meaning the famed hero would
be an ally of his by proxy) that meant the two were about to fight a battle on both fronts.
He’d just never expected to stand by Brooklyn Stark in the face of conflict as he did that
night under the flickering stars and the promise of violence in the air.

Chapter End Notes

FYI: The Tracksuit Draculas are a Marvel set of villains from New York, but their story
from the comics is not the same as in this fanfic. Also, the Amadeus Nightclub is a real
club in Queens, but it does not contain criminal activity, I just wanted to use a popular
club for the story. Silly little disclaimer, I know.

Funny story. I wrote the fighting scene while listening to the least expected yet perfect-
for-the-vibes song. If you're interested, I recommend listening to My Way by Frank
Sinatra during that scene. Trust me, it almost makes it more intense and adorable that
way. Also at the end of the story there is a chapter dedicated to all the songs I listened to
during my writing process if you're interested.
 Gotham's News and Cruel Words
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Damian POV-

The sound of footsteps up the winding stairs only increased with each second, enough so that
Damian was beginning to feel the inevitable instinct to get ready for a fight, no matter what
side the hero before them was on.

Despite the common beliefs of everyone at his new school, or just Queens in general, Damian
did not trust heroes to begin with. He was smart enough to look past the perfect image people
held for them, able to see the flawed individual within a mask. They made mistakes too. Just
because one was here didn't mean they were saved, especially since this was one of the
alleged Avengers.

"How did you get here!? Is everyone following me around today!?" Stark asked
exasperatedly, seemingly disinterested in the danger rushing towards them.

The man in tights replied in a deep, robotic voice, "You notified SHIELD of the situation in
this place, and that alerts all nearby agents to report to help. I happened to be close by so I got
the notification"

The girl sighed dramatically, which looked less menacing considering she had glowing paint
across her cheeks as she commanded, "You better not have told my dad a thing"

The hero shook his masked head, but suddenly his interest was caught on the door behind
them. His head tilting to the side the way Jon often did when he heard something others could
not.

"Why are eight people running up the stairs demanding death?" the hero asked, to which
Damian tried not to let his surprise show when he wasn’t able to hear a thing even though he
was closer to the door. Enhanced senses...maybe he should have done more research on the
hero of Queens upon changing schools. It seemed that this city was home for too many
enhanced individuals, more than he was currently comfortable with.

Stark shook her head impatiently, "Not our problem anymore, we need to get out of here
before they see us. Make yourself useful, Spidy, get us out then I'll kill you properly"

Damian wanted to argue that there was no way he would follow her around the city with
Spider-man, but a meek voice stopped the assassin's complaints right in his throat.

"I can help," said a voice behind a massive ventilation vent, a voice Damian recognized
despite being slightly deeper than usual. The Wayne almost rolled his eyes, even when a part
of him was glad he hadn’t been abandoned in the midst of Starks and Avengers.
Jon slowly came out from behind the vent…with a large bed sheet draped atop his body that
made him look like a child dressing up for Halloween. Damian fought the urge to knock his
own head against the steel door behind him as he beheld his friend levitate off the ground,
extending a hand towards Damian.

"A ghost!" Spider-man shouted, only to earn a slap from the girl beside him who was trying
to look past the last minute disguise with a scrutinizing gaze. Damian guessed he should at
least be glad Jon thought to conceal his identity in the first place, even if it was like this.

"He's not a ghost, he's my ride out of here. You guys go your own way and let this be the end
of our temporary alliance," Damian said, jumping up to clasp his hand with Jon's, slowly
being raised off the ground.

When the Wayne turned around to see Brooklyn's puzzled expression, he sighed, schooling a
facade of indifference as he yelled below

"Do us all a favor and don't get caught," he said, watching as the girl hesitantly made her way
towards the awaiting hero. It seemed the two had their own certified enhanced allies, yet
another similarity between the two.

He watched as the Stark cringed slightly as Spider-man picked her up bridal style, careful to
keep his gloved fingers from the exposed skin of her short dress. Seeing her in the arms of
the masked man, it made him feel...uncomfortable, maybe even slightly disgusted. It was
likely out of concern for the poor hero forced to spend such close proximity with her. Spider-
man was likely getting enveloped in her daisy perfume and insufferable attitude.

The girl clutched Spider-man's neck tightly, especially when he shot out a web to a distant
building and stood at the edge of the building.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Wayne," the Stark said over the hero’s shoulder, "You should get back
home and forget this ever happened though, unless you want to deal with SHIELD?"

Damian noticed the hero's body stiffening, taking one last look back at him and Jon, metal
eyes shrinking as if he were analyzing them. But not long after that, Spider-man waved their
way and jumped off the side of the roof. Soon Damian could see his swinging from getting
smaller as he swung from building to building until he took a turn that no longer made him
visible.

Before any of the mutants could make it upstairs, Jon followed Damian’s hasty orders and
flew them to another roof far enough away that they could barely make out the searching
figures once they broke through the door.

Though he hated to admit it, Jon and the Spandex hero couldn't have been there at a better
time. From what he could see, one of those mutants could use their black wisps to fly while
searching the edges of the building. Had he and Stark fled by running away on rooftops, even
if she had the skills to keep up with Damian's pace, they would have certainly been caught by
that mutant alone.
Not long after the roof had been thoroughly searched, loud sirens could be heard below, and
Jon swiftly informed Damian that SHIELD and the cops already had a perimeter surrounding
the club.

No one was getting in or out now.

That's when Jon and Damian made their way back to Gotham, being careful to fly above the
cloud coverage this time as an additional precaution.

The ex-assassin didn't bother answering many of Jon's many frantic questions until they'd
reached the front gardens of the Wayne Mansion. Beds of roses of various colors were still in
full bloom around them despite the darkened and gloomy skies, their scent much like the hint
of rose in Brooklyn’s perfume, not that he mentioned that. If he could, he’d command
Pennyworth to cut the flowers down simply because of that similarity, but the butler loved his
gardens more than anything. He’d just have to ignore it rather than risk the old man’s wrath.

In fact, Damian’s mind needed to focus on the course of action he’d plotted on the flight back
home, that's the only thing that mattered at this moment.

"What are we going to do now!? Brooklyn knows you followed her, that you are looking into
the alien weapons. Maybe we should ask our dads for help, I mean...you were almost
captured by mutants and she blew up a weapon's supply like it was nothing" Jon said, still not
out of breath despite his long rant that had followed them the whole flight home.

Damian made his way down the lonely garden along the cobblestone paths, using the cover
of partial darkness to fix his disheveled hair, frowning at the monstrosity of a hoodie he still
had on. He had failed to notice the words printed on the side of it when he picked it out. It
only made him more angry to realize he was wearing something with the word Womanizer in
cursive letters as if such a trait was some sort of elegant badge of honor.

Only one Wayne was overly careless around women, and that was Bruce.

"Brooklyn Stark managed to get the information I need, so I will have to figure out how to
get it out of her eventually," Damian said coldly, "Our fathers should not be informed of what
happened today until I have solid information to provide them with"

Behind him, Jon gasped, clutching the white bedsheet closet to his body like a blanket as they
walked between the rose bushes. He looked like he was about to protest.

"We...actually, you might be right. Even though I never went inside the club, my parents
would still be upset that I let you go in by yourself to such a place. Not to mention what your
father would think if he knew you just worked alongside a Stark"

Damian paused his steps, glaring up at Jon, daring him to continue with his nonsense.

"We did not work together, both of us were merely going the same way"

Jon let out an unconvinced nod, and after an awkward cough, he pointed at his unblemished
face. Remembering the glowing paint across his own face, the one the Stark had spread on,
Damian angrily swiped his sleeve across the evidence of the night’s outing. He did so almost
frantically, fueled by anger that made his cheeks warm. It wasn’t until he’d silently removed
it and composed himself that Jon reached out to open the main doors to the mansion the
Wayne called home.

"At least we can sneak back in undetected. We were out really late, my Pa and Ma would lose
it if they saw—"

At Jon's loss of words, Damian looked up to see Grayson and his father sitting poised in the
greeting room, each in one of the elegant loveseats that looked more like thrones, staring at
the two teens with puzzled glares. It was made to look even more menacing by the fact that
only a few lamps illuminated their forms.

After all that had occurred, curfew seemed to have become Damian's last worry.

"May I ask why you two came back so late?" Dick asked, hands fidgeting restlessly on his
lap, "And why are you wearing that hideous orange hoodie? Do I want to know why Jon is
wearing a bed sheet? If I didn’t know the two of you since you were kids, it would almost
look like you two were out partying"

Damian had to subtly elbow Jon's side when his friend began laughing at the irony of that
statement. Before Jon's strained lying skills gave too much away to the greatest detectives of
the world, the Wayne dismissed his friend with a flick of his hand, urging him to get back
home.

Jon didn't have to be told twice. He waved goodbye to his godfather and Grayson before
bolting out the door and disappearing into the sky. Hoping his family was distracted by the
hasty exit of the flying teen, Damian tried to sneak past the two adults.

Of course that did not work.

Grayson rushed over to Damian, still clad in his Star Wars pjs, clutching the teen's shoulder
to keep him in place. Damian considered flipping him onto the carpet, but that would cause
far too much trouble and possible blood stains on Pennyworth’s favorite Persian rug. All he
wanted now was to take a long shower, to head to bed, and ignore the two curious adults
behind him.

"Seriously, little D. Is everything alright?" his brother asked, concern laced in his voice.

Damian merely sighed, turning around to give both adults a stoic glare. He kept his hands
neatly folded behind his back, and though he was certain he looked ridiculous in his
borrowed jacket, the youngest Wayne remained unbothered and poised.

"If I had to count the times you both have come home late from a mission, it would be
enough to equal father's next paycheck" he said, "I never wait up for you, I expect you both
to extend the same courtesy next time seeing as I'm not a child anymore who needs to be
monitored. Even for small things like what I buy with my money or when I make it back
home"
Bruce crossed his arms, but did not stand. His father did not seem mad as he had been that
day at the principal’s office, but he appeared confused, perhaps even a little worried.

Scratch that...his emotions were more out in the open than usual.

The bags under his father's eyes were more prominent, but they did not hold satisfaction,
meaning the Joker had not been caught yet. There was a very tangible fear in the air,
something that almost made the large room feel colder than it really was.

"We thought something had happened when you weren't answering your phone," Bruce said
with clenched teeth, "We were about to go search for you, but since Jon wasn't back home
either, we could only assume you were both alright"

"Try not to sound like a concerned mother," Damian huffed, "you don't have the ovaries for
it"

Despite the usual snark, neither adult replied as they normally would, his brother with a
punchline nor his father with a scathing yet harmless glance. Amidst the silence, Damian
finally noticed only Dick and Bruce were here. Normally, when Damian was caught sneaking
out, or sneaking back in, everyone would be waiting expectantly, just jumping at the chance
to annoy Damian...yet everyone's weapons were on the nearby coffee table, but they were
nowhere in sight.

Bruce was overbearing by nature, but this behavior, especially since Damian had come back
before midnight...it was not right. His father was looking at him as if he were seeing a ghost
he desperately wanted to be a living creature.

That could only mean one thing.

"What happened?" Damian found himself asking, watching the two men before him turn their
crestfallen gazes to the ground. It wasn’t just worry as he’d predicted, that was grief in their
eyes. The clench of Grayson's fists, his father's wavering frown...something truly bad had
occurred.

Though the youngest Wayne often found himself not caring very much about his
dysfunctional family, but the sudden unease of one of them being dead...it made Damian
restless.

It made him angry.

"Who died?" he asked with clenched teeth, attempting to keep his true emotions hidden, but
after violently throwing his backpack on the floor, it was probably a dead giveaway of his
rising distress.

Dick’s true emotions came to light as the man stepped closer to the glow of a nearby lamp as
placed an arm around Damian. That was barely restrained sorrow in his brother’s eyes, it
made the teen want to scream, to fight, but he still had no idea what was going on.

The eldest merely steered Damian in the familiar direction of the bat cave entrance.
Also not a good sign.

After a few calming breaths, Grayson managed to whisper out, as if his previous bravado had
run out, "We went out after the Joker today, found out he was possibly hiding out in an
abandoned warehouse near the edge of the city”

“Babs got there first, but it was a trap, set up with some of those alien weapons. We..."
Grayson's voice hitched slightly, "We didn't get there fast enough, not with the attacks from
his clowns around the city. Cass was the one that found her beaten to a pulp with a crowbar
by her side...no doubt a taunt meant for Jason...for all of us"

The Joker had...to Barbara Gordon.

"Is she dead, Grayson?" Damian asked with icy coldness, watching as his father began
averting his gaze like a coward behind them once the chill of the bat cave met Damian's skin.

"No," Dick breathed out, at last easing some of the teen’s rising nerves, "But she isn't doing
too well. Dr. Thompkins came to help as quickly as she could, but it seems Babs will be
paralyzed from the waist down at best...not much can be done"

Damian paused midway down the steps leading to the med bay in the cave as he tried to
regain control of his faltering expression. He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about this
information, how to feel about not having been there even when Bruce wouldn't have let
Damian go on the chase.

On one hand, he felt an unbearable need to avenge his sibling. Barbara was not his least
favorite out of all of them, she was actually bearable to be around most of the time. Not to
mention this was an attack from the Joker to their family, and it couldn't go unpunished.

The other part of him was...concerned?

Damian understood how much the death of Barbara's birth father had affected her recently
even after she’d avenged his memory with the defeat of the Court of Owls in what the city
referred to as the War of Shadows. She had shown unwavering skill and strength since then,
and he'd never once worried over her safety on the field.

This would no doubt crush her, it certainly would to Damian if it meant he couldn't be Robin
anymore.

Though he knew it would not help in the slightest, Damian continued down the steps to be
amongst his siblings where they surrounded Barbara's unconscious body on the bed in the
middle of the raised platform where all their medical needs were attended, probably the
brightest place in the entirety of the Batcave.

Most had immediately greeted Damian with desperate hugs, muttering things about being
glad to see the Joker hadn't gotten him as well. Only Todd and Drake took the time to scold
Damian, but their anger was weakened by their worry, enough so that they dropped the
accusations in no time, especially when Stephanie mentioned arguing in front of Barbara was
rude.
Damian ignored the offered extended arms from Selina, instead settling down on a chair
beside the vitals machine, wondering what would become of his...his sister. Each unsteady
sound of the machine chased away the exhaustion of the day, kept him up as the hours
passed.

They all sat around in silence, sometimes shifting their gazes to suits lined up perfectly on
their glass encasings in the platform below them. They couldn’t help but notice the one that
was missing, the one that would likely never be worn again.

For a second it all seemed so impossible. Barbara had been filling in for Bat Woman these
past few weeks, temporarily giving up her normal role as Batgirl for the sake of Kate Kane's
need for a vacation with her girlfriend. Damian would've thought the Joker wouldn't mind
Bat Woman showing up, but he’d found out somehow that Barbara was under that mask if he
attacked like this, with a crowbar as a cruel and personal message to the Waynes.

Even a different mask did not spare her.

Damian listened to his siblings' sobs (mostly from Dick), and observed as Jason tried to
destroy nearly everything on the nearby training area platform of the cave to try and cope
with his anger without anyone stopping him.

It was rather comical how it often took a death or severe injury to bring the family together,
that had always been the case, likely always would be.

Thinking back to his day at the preschool this morning, the hours spent watching Brooklyn
Stark soothe the young children with ease, Damian decided to do something he hoped would
somehow help his unconscious sibling for once.

When most had retired to bed and the others fell asleep, using the method Stark had utilized
as a comforting gesture for the children, Damian took hold of Barbara's hand, but still she
remained unmoving...

It was then, in the darkness and uncertainty of the cave, that the youngest Wayne decided two
things, clutching the alien weapon in his pocket rather fiercely.

First, no matter what he had to do, Damian would stop these alien weapons, even if it meant
allying with a Stark, or torturing her for answers. Secondly, he'd make the Joker pay for this,
not by death because that was not Damian's way, but that clown would certainly wish for a
quick end once Damian got his hands on that monster.

At some point during his troubled thoughts, he’d fallen asleep and someone had carried him
back to his room. Because when morning rolled around, the teen found himself tucked into
bed beside Titus and Alfred the cat, a hot breakfast served on the nightstand.

Despite his growing concern for the injured house member, Damian pushed past it, realizing
the best thing he could do now was head to school and figure out a way to start his quest for
justice.
Only one person could help with that at the moment, and unfortunately, that was Brooklyn
Stark.

Peter Parker POV-

As soon as Peter's feet hit the roof, Brooklyn scrambled out of his arms, leaning over the
concrete railing with a frown as she cursed his unnecessary free falls during the ride back to
her apartment complex.

"Why...why were you at that club tonight?" Spider-man asked, trying his best to give her
space despite the fact that he had about a thousand questions on his mind.

He knew she was mad he'd shown up, but Peter thought it was an emergency. When he got
the message and swung over to her location as fast he could, he could only fear the worst.
He’d been about to find a way inside the club when she’d emerged from that locked door, in
danger apparently.

His best friend stared up at the crescent moon, "It's not your business why I was there"

Peter didn’t know why, since he wasn’t often one to press for answers, but he needed to know
what she had been doing there, why SHIELD had been called to close off the club.

Had she gone out to party and stumbled upon trouble? Did she accidentally kill someone?

When he'd accidentally voiced these concerns out loud, Brooklyn turned back to face him
with an incredulous look, like she couldn't quite believe what he'd said.

He didn’t realize his mistake until she spoke up, fuming.

"You see me at a club and the first thoughts that come to your mind are that I went to party
and accidentally killed someone? I thought we were past that! I thought you understood that
I'm not killing people anymore!" she yelled, disturbing the peaceful ambiance around them.

Oh crap. He hadn't wanted to say it like that! Of course Peter knew she was trying to turn
over a new leaf, and so far she'd been doing great in training. Maybe it was just because of
the recent fight at school that shifted his thoughts to more violent outcomes. She'd literally
served detention that very morning for an offense that could’ve gotten her expelled.

Maybe that's why he'd rushed out of bed as soon as he heard the emergency message on his
SHIELD pager, especially when he realized Brooklyn wasn't home.

"You know I don't mean it like that, it's just...what am I supposed to think when you're fleeing
from a club with some stranger, people chasing you, and SHIELD getting involved?" he
asked, even though Peter was well aware who the 'stranger' was.

She'd called him Wayne back up on the roof. She'd whispered it, but he'd heard it loud and
clear. That had been Damian Wayne, the last person Peter expected Brooklyn to be with at
any time of the day, especially at a nightclub, both with faces covered in glowing paint and
weapons in hand. But why would she drag a civilian into this mess, especially one she
absolutely despised?

Peter hadn't had the chance to ask about how the punishment from this afternoon had gone
when they were at the cafe, everyone had been too eager to let Brooklyn rest to bother
bringing up the origin of most of her anger lately. He did not know what had happened at that
preschool aside from the fact that both teens were alive and no longer punished.

But being at a club together? That didn't add up.

Brooklyn suddenly pushed off the edge, taking a seat on one of the laid out chairs under the
glow of the delicate garden lights above them. Lights that made the paint across her nose and
cheeks glow like fireflies. She looked tired, so very tired that he considered dropping the
questions, leaving these matters for another day so she could get some sleep. Yet he stood
there, waiting for an explanation no matter how much she weakly glared at him, he needed to
know what she’d gotten herself into.

"That stranger was Damian Wayne," she said, placing a hand on her forehead, "I'm sure my
dad must've ranted about his hate for that family at some point to you, since you two are so
close and all. You're practically Tony's golden child, he likely told you to stay away from the
Waynes, right?"

Peter nodded, though the first rants that came to mind about Waynes were actually from
Brooklyn when Spider-man was in his civilian form. Of course he couldn't say that.

The girl leaned back on the chair, letting her red hair pool above her head as she took out
a...was that a blonde wig or someone's actual hair!?...from her purse, throwing it at his feet
and pointing at it as if it held all the answers he sought.

Carefully, he picked up the object, almost sighing in relief when he realized the hair, was in
fact, fake.

"I was on a mission, one you can't tell my dad about or I'll actually kill you. Or maybe Fury
will, I'm not too sure. Its classified work I shouldn't even be telling you about," she warned,
"The Wayne found me there, is all"

A mission that Mr. Stark had no idea about, the work of Mr. Fury no doubt. But Damian
Wayne did not seem like the partying type to just so happen to be at a club for adults, or one
to have a flying accomplice that may or may not be a ghost.

Peter took a seat on the chair across from Brooklyn, staring into her deep brown eyes with
concern.

"So now a civilian knows who you are or at the very least that you’re involved in something
big?"

Brooklyn laughed, a tired sound that didn't fit her usual snark or kindness.
"I forgot, you weren't there for the Avengers meeting a few days ago," she said, now picking
at the seams of her black dress, "The Wayne isn't just my family enemy and a total nuisance
of my existence, he's from the League"

He did recall something about a meeting he missed when he’d helped May volunteer at the
children’s wing of the hospital. But the League? What did that mean?

"Major League baseball?" Peter asked unsurely, earning a purse to the face.

"No! The League of Assassins. He's like me, and he's apparently looking into this weapon
stuff as well, that's the only reason why we both came out of the club together. We’re actually
enemies at school...this was probably the second—and last— time we’ve reluctantly worked
together in our lives. But you can't tell Tony about it either, you can't let anyone know you
saw Damian with me, I don't feel like getting another lecture much less transferred from my
current school"

Peter could do that, keep his mouth shut. Not just because he wanted to help out Brook, but
because he simply could not talk at all right now. Damian Wayne...was an assassin!? That
explained the scars and wounds on his body that Peter had seen after gym class in the locker
rooms. That's why he'd been able to go against Brooklyn and not die in the process, why the
ferocity of his eyes had seemed so familiar.

The League must be another assassin school like Brook's Red Room, one that no doubt had
something to do with Damian's attitude and reclusiveness. He wasn't just a grumpy boy from
Gotham, he was just like Peter's best friend, someone who hadn’t grown up in a good place.

Though he still had a million questions to ask, Peter settled for the most pressing one at the
moment, the one the hero wasn't sure he'd have something to do with or not.

"So that nightclub, your mission was there because there were alien weapons there?"

Brook shot a thumbs up in clarification, and Peter nervously nodded back and asked, "Is there
any way I can help?"

The girl stared up at him with a frown, almost as if she was about to smack him again but her
purse was out of her reach.

"You can keep your mouth shut about all this. This is espionage work, not superhero stuff,"
Brooklyn said sharply, grabbing her belongings and discarded heels as she began walking
over to the door leading downstairs.

But...Peter wanted to help. This isn't something she could do alone.

Spider-man knew better than to tell Mr. Stark, even if some part of him wanted to. That part
was the one that often worried Brooklyn's assassin self was still there...it was also the part of
his brain that made him shout his last pressing question.

"Did you kill anyone at the club then?"

Brooklyn paused with a harsh grip on the door handle. Though she did not turn back to face
him, Peter could hear her whispered words quite clearly, even heard the slight hurt in her
tired voice.

"Screw you, Chelovek-pauk," she said bitterly, "Of course I didn't, but if you don't believe
me, check the SHIELD report tomorrow. Just don't speak to me until you can get that kind of
thinking out of your head. I'm sick and tired of it, the fact that the Wayne believes me more
than you is making me sick"

With that Brooklyn stomped down the stairs, slamming the door on her way, and leaving
Peter feeling guilty for his cruel words.

When Peter took off his mask to feel the cool air against his face, the teen remained up there
for a while, cursing himself for being so insensitive when Brooklyn was just trying to do the
right thing. Peter knew he'd have to make it up to her somehow, but more than that, he'd have
to do as she said. He had to stop thinking of her as some sort of unstable time bomb, as one
of the bad guys who needed fixing.

He didn't know why it was so hard to do so, maybe because of his past with Liz' dad?
Because that man had been a seemingly normal person, one with a hidden drive to kill for his
goals...maybe it was harder now to keep that worry at bay, the fear that people were not who
they appeared to be.

Damian Wayne was an assassin after all. How could Peter not have doubts!?

Maybe he wouldn't be able to apologize as Spider-man for quite some time until Brooklyn
cooled off, but as his civilian form, he could try to make it right.

Perhaps he'd buy her snacks at the game tomorrow? Take her out to the arcade next week?

"Why would I say that to her?" he whispered out loud, letting out a long sigh before webbing
his way down to the fire escape by his own window.

He'd asked his A.I., Karen, to delete all the footage of tonight just in case Mr. Stark were ever
to take a peek at Peter's progress. Maybe he'd even ask advice from Aunt May on how to
make things right in the morning.

The teen had gone to sleep with the promise to keep Brooklyn's secrets for now, and if it ever
got too dangerous, Peter would be there to help her. They were supposed to be teammates in
the future, it was time Peter tried acting like it in hopes that maybe she'd follow along.

Staring at the framed photo of all his friends on his night stand, Peter beheld Brooklyn's shy
smile, the way she eased into the embrace of everyone around her. She had not shown
dangerous qualities that day, Brooklyn was not a trained killer in that frozen moment before
him. Maybe she just wasn't one any time of the day no matter what missions she went on, he
just needed to remember that.

Yeah, he'd make sure to make it up to her. Because assassin Brooklyn wasn't the only part of
her...not any more.
 Little did Peter know how deep those cruel words had seeped into Brooklyn's mind. How it
kept her up that night, fueled with a determination to prove him wrong by planning out her
next step to stopping the alien weapon’s business.

Such work brought up interesting results, but not the ones the Stark had been expecting. The
only time she took a break had been for a quick shower, at which point even her anger could
not distract her from her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The paint across her face made her pause. The delicate swirls across her face, those had been
made by Damian, and as Brook traced the patterns…well, she couldn’t help but to roll her
eyes. His arrival at the scene had been an unwelcome surprise, but he hadn’t been an entirety
incompetent ally. Temporary ally. Something in her hesitated to wash off the paint until the
very last minutes of her shower, why she’d taken so long to get rid of it, Brook wasn’t sure.
She swore that by morning, she’d forget it had occurred entirely. As soon as she got back to
work, the memories of the Wayne remained and her anger and frustration returned tenfold. It
led her down a curious path.

Peter could've sworn he heard Brooklyn shouting deep into the night with his enhanced
senses. But he'd assumed he was going insane or just felt too guilty still. In his mind, there
was no way she was awake, much less in trouble in the safety of her own home.

She had screamed, not out of danger, but in shock. He'd find out why eventually...but maybe
not in time to take action.

Chapter End Notes

Just thought I should add these two POVs before the current conflict of the story begins.
They are both very important in their own right, shaping what is to come.

I hope you're enjoying the story so far, I'm having a blast writing it!
 Secrets and Missions Amongst Enemies [Part 3]
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 Part 3: Forbidden Acts

"I call to mind flatness and dampness; and then all is madness - the madness of a memory
which busies itself among forbidden things."

-Edgar Allan Poe

Brooklyn POV-

Brooklyn was trying very hard not to seem jumpy at school the next morning.

In her defense, it was a rather difficult task to accomplish when she had the weight of so
many secrets on her hands. Though last night had been a success despite being hunted down
and almost killed, that hadn’t been what affected Brooklyn in the slightest, even Spider-man’s
words had hit the back burner.

She was currently somewhat at ease, conversing with her friends at their usual morning spot
in the front of the school steps, but her eyes were keeping a lookout for a certain someone’s
arrival. Someone who was late, more so than could be considered normal under his usual
fashionably late entrances, likely meant to assert dominance over the entire school.

It was a person who had a lot of fucking explaining to do after all the research she'd done last
night when anger had kept her from the sweet and soothing kiss of sleep. Of course he'd
chosen today of all days to leave her waiting like a ball full of nerves.

"How bad was your punishment? Wanna give us details of what it was like to babysit with a
stick in the mud like Damian?" Harry asked, hugging her from behind and placing his head
atop hers lazily.

Brooklyn stared at her group of friends who patiently waited for her answer, friends who had
no idea she hadn’t been paying attention to much of what they had been discussing. They
couldn’t see the way she bit the inside of her cheek, cursing the fact that she’d been asked
about the one person she hadn’t wanted to speak about this morning.

She covered up her nerves with a playful rolling of her eyes.

"It's a long story, wait for the movie," Brook joked, earning a series of laughs from her
friends, "In short, it was pure torture with a hint of amusement, but I think one more hour
might've killed me. Preschool was not the place for teenage Brooklyn, but at least now I
never have to go back"

Never mind that despite everything, Brook skill kept her golden stars on what was once a
spare picture frame. The art from the kids she’d been gifted had gone inside a spare binder,
both of which were currently hidden inside a lonesome drawer, for her peace of mind.

Tanya smirked, fixing the golden cheer bow atop her hair as she motioned her head towards
the principal, who was out of his office for once, overseeing the flow of traffic into the
parking lot. The hype for the game later today made that job almost complicated enough for
Brooklyn to get a sense of revenge from it.

"Count your blessings, my dear Brook. I thought he would give you a worst punishment like
he did the Amstern twins last year, they got expelled for placing stink bombs in his office.
But I suppose our next history project is punishment enough, I suggest you don't get too
behind on it, the whole thing is giving me hives already and I haven't even started" Tanya
said.

Of course the one day Brooklyn was gone, just as the girl was starting to get leads on very
important crime-stopping missions, Mr. Travis would decide to burden her with something as
unimportant yet essential as homework.

Thanks to Peter's help, the Stark had been given most of her assignments when they went out
to eat with their friends after her victorious preschool return. It seemed all her teachers were
in the same page as their cruel history teacher, because Brooklyn would have to slave over
homework this weekend at the Avengers compound, if only because her future goal of
becoming valedictorian depended on it.

"If Mr. Travis hadn't refused to give Peter information on the assignment for me, I would've
already looked into it" Brook complained, but still managed to keep an eye out for that
certain someone over her friends' shoulders.

Why was he not here yet?

"Hey," Peter whispered beside her, "Are you alright?"

Brooklyn's eyes snapped back to her best friend, noticing his doe-eyed concern. She wasn't
entirely sure how to answer that, her researching fever to work out the information from the
Tracksuit Draculas had taken all night, and she was too out of it from additional shock to be a
normal functioning student and friend today.

She needed a desperate nap, maybe a tranquilizer as well.

By the time Peter had knocked on her door a few hours prior, the girl barely had a chance to
change into clean clothes and Harry's jersey for the game tonight. That rushing had set her in
an even more nervous mood, she hated rushing things.

Despite the morning text from Fury reluctantly congratulating her on the work at the club,
even that was not enough to placate the sense of unrest in her mind.

Brook was considering going on another mission, one that might lead to better answers, but
unlike yesterday, she wasn't sure it would be as simple as infiltrating a mere club. All had to
be done with utmost secrecy, and the stakes would certainly be higher this time around. Of
course, Peter did not— and could not— know any of that, he was just a sweet friend trying to
help out, just like he always did with everyone.

Maybe Spider-man was right in some sense, maybe Brook was not a good person, certainly
not good enough for Parker that was for sure. But something about him always eased her
nerves, her worries and anxiety. So she thanked him for his concern, but intimately told Peter
all was well with the world, even if that was the greatest understatement of the century.

That sense of worry was placated as the teens got lost in simple conversations about
school...but something always brought the dread back, like the way Ned and MJ began
discussing the arrest of the owner of the club Brook had been at last night. It had been all
over the news this morning, without mention of the alien weapons or SHIELD, but the news
did point out the Queens police department arrested the Tracksuit Draculas with great
enthusiasm. None of her friends knew she had any involvement with that, they just assumed
Brooklyn was spent after having to be civil with a Wayne for a day.

A Wayne that FINALLY appeared at the school gates.

He looked the same as always, impeccable, bored, and unapproachable. But his frown was
not quite right today, it was one Brooklyn had not classified as of yet. Everything about
Damian looked the same as always, he still made her blood boil, but there was something
different.

Maybe it was because of what happened at the club last night?

Still, when their eyes caught across the football field, something about his pointed stare her
way perfectly conveyed an unspoken message, especially as he quickly followed it with a
glance at the school building behind her.

He wanted to talk. Privately.

While her friends were busy discussing plans for the game tonight, Brooklyn detached herself
from Harry's embrace, claiming she just recalled she had to talk to a teacher about one of the
assignments she missed. A perfectly believable excuse. Her sweet friends offered to walk
with her, but she was able to dissuade them at the mention of going up two floors of stairs.
Laziness was a powerful thing indeed.

When Brooklyn swung her backpack on her shoulder, clutching her literature book against
her chest, she took the time to discreetly peek down the field below where Damian was
already separating from Jon, rushing towards the school building while his friend went to go
meet with the football team.

Though she did not look back after that, Brooklyn could almost feel herself being followed.
She still waved at passing classmates and smiled their way until she found an empty
classroom on the second floor.

Not many students hung out on the top floors this early in the day, and Brook heard in
passing that all the teachers were at their lounging area celebrating a birthday. This place
would have to do. When she made it inside, Brook made sure Damian noticed which
classroom she was going into before closing the door and waiting in the darkness until he
arrived. He was lucky she had a bone to pick with him, otherwise, she likely would have
ignored him till the end of eternity.

Once the door opened and closed with the click of a lock, both teens set down their stuff on
the teacher's table as they stood on opposite sides as if they needed that comforting distance.
Brook wasn’t gonna lie, his locking the door made her wonder if the Wayne wanted a fight
rather than a conversation, yet the room remained quiet for some time, the atmosphere
between them...unfamiliar. When Damian did not explain his summons, decided to bite the
metaphorical bullet and Brook reached into her backpack to pull out his red jacket, throwing
it across the expanse of the large desk.

"I forgot to give this back before I left the club. Last thing I want to do is have something of
yours laying around in my apartment," she said, noticing the way Damian frowned at the
object, even when his mind seemed to be preoccupied with something else.

But whatever pondering had kept him silent and unmoving was over. Her enemy then
reached into his pocket, not to take out a weapon, but sliding a few quarters on the table
towards Brooklyn. At first she was a little confused by the act, because what would Damian
—the son of a millionaire—be doing handing over quarters after being very specific about
needing to talk with her.

"The money to pay for my food from yesterday," Damian said, "I also don't want to owe you
anything"

Right, the pizza she’d impulsively bought. Perhaps a mistake on her part.

"Are we just going to stand here in the dark, exchange phone numbers and talk about our
crushes while you braid my hair, or are you going to tell me why you wanted to talk to me?"
Brook asked, suddenly nervous as to why he'd want to have a word with her exactly.
Yesterday, the two had practically spent the majority of the day together, and many of the
things that had occurred could be a point of conflict.

If this was for a simple fight to get back at her for their punishment or the fiasco at the
nightclub, she'd leave. Brooklyn was not in the mood to fight with him today, not after last
night.

Damian frowned at her sarcasm, moved to settle on one of the student chairs at the front of
the class before sighing rather deeply. He did not meet her eyes, but rather stared at the closed
door with some sort of determination.

The Wayne clutched the sleeves of his black turtleneck harshly, almost nervously, revealing
the sight of an expensive golden watch and calloused hands. Where this another time,
Brooklyn might've tried to fill their silence with more jabs about his expensive tastes.

Something was wrong though, something had changed in him since last night when he flew
away with the mysterious person under the inconspicuous bed sheet. She wasn’t sure what
her involvement in it could mean, it couldn’t be good though.
"Putting our mutual hatred for one another aside, you must tell me all you know on the alien
weapons’ movements, all you learned at the club last night without a detail to spare," Damian
said, voice nothing short of a command.

That actually made Brooklyn chuckle darkly. What was up with this guy and thinking he
could boss her around? Did the Wayne really summon her to this lonesome classroom,
risking their getting in trouble or worse, being seen together, to demand things of her?

"And why would I do that?" she challenged, expecting him to say something along the lines
of him being more skilled to deal with the issue at hand than her, maybe even try and belittle
her efforts so far. The harsh words never came.

Her nemesis turned to face her, eyes ablaze even in the darkness of the room as he said in a
tone just below a shout, "Because believe it or not, this is a personal matter of justice. Some
of those weapons were used recently back in Gotham, they resulted in my sister becoming
seriously injured and I have to make sure such an event won't happen again"

Brooklyn was left speechless for a few seconds.

His sister was injured? That could be a bunch of bullshit, and if this was all he was willing to
say on the matter, Brook wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

"I thought you only had two brothers, the ones from the gala" she challenged, taking a seat
atop the teacher's table as she faced Damian's seated form.

The longer stands of his black hair tumbled forward when his head bowed ever so slightly,
eyes locked on the table before him almost as if he couldn't or wouldn't look at her. She noted
the way his fists were clenched atop the surface, hard enough that Brook couldn’t help but
wonder if his nails were drawing blood from the force of it all.

"I have more siblings the media is not aware of, more children my father adopted rather
carelessly," Damian clarified, teeth clenched as if the admission of information cost him,
"only I have a clear mind to go about stopping this issue properly now, and sadly, that
requires your input Stark"

He cared, Brooklyn realized. Damian Wayne actually cared about something other than
himself somewhere under that hard shell of his. Family. Just in the way Brooklyn would do
anything for her own, shove away all pride and concern for her own well being, the Wayne’s
family was likely the only thing he would lower his head for.

Brooklyn thought back to what her dad always said about family being power, and that we
were meant to protect it, whatever it takes. Even someone as cold as Damian Wayne
apparently felt that sense of duty as well, enough that he was willing to go to his greatest
enemy for the sake of righting a wrong.

The thing was, she understood that in some way. Part of Brook's drive to stop these criminals
had strayed from Fury's blackmail and shifted towards doing something to keep her own
family from harm. The Compound had already been attacked once, she and Happy ambushed
on the road. She'd been lucky the only person severely injured was herself during the first
attack, that scar on her stomach would always be a reminder of the dangers even the skilled
could be subjected to with the alien weapons meant to level out the playing field.

Perhaps it was because Brooklyn now truly believed in the importance of family that she
relented, to both of the teens’ surprise. She may not like the Waynes, especially the one
seated not too far from her, but family was family no matter who she hated or not.

Not to mention, after the research she’d done last night, even she could not deny it might be
best he did know a thing or two for his own quest to end this evil.

"The leader was an idiot, I wasn't able to get much from him because he himself knew very
little about distribution plans. That guy was mostly just dealing with third party contacts that
got him the weapons he needed," Brooklyn confessed, "But he did mention something about
a particular shipping company being the one to bring the supplies over to his club, one under
the control of the higher ups of this operation"

Damian's eyes suddenly lit up with determination, at last looking up at her own.

Taking in strands of her red hair, Brook began twirling them around as she gathered her
thoughts, still unsure if she should leave out certain information for herself. In the end, the
Stark realized there wouldn't be much to gain or lose from that, not when people were clearly
still being hurt by the weapons in cities far out of her reach.

"That company has a very weak firewall in their security system all things considered,"
Brooklyn added smugly, "I hacked into it in seconds, found out they get their weapons from a
distributor outside of New York to avoid certain paperwork that would give them away. The
Tracksuit Draculas would then distribute the weapons across New York under that
distributor’s orders, but the owner from yesterday admitted they were going to attack the
bank of Queens with a shipment of weapons I destroyed. A plot to expand their criminal
background. Now that the supply is destroyed and the Tracksuits are arrested, distribution of
weapons seems to have halted here in the city at least"

"So you hit a dead end?" Wayne asked.

"Of course not," Brooklyn scoffed, "I searched the company’s records for income
information, and noticed they were transfering red money from a large labyrinth of accounts,
all originating from one city"

"The place they get the weapons from?" Damian asked, earning a nod from her.

She leaned back on the desk and said, "An unnamed individual in New Jersey seems to
provide these weapons for them, from your famed Gotham City actually. Makes sense
considering your home has less restrictions and enough criminal resources to avoid easy
detection. I began looking into the underground groups there to see who could be in charge of
those supplies, but there are so many criminal groups on and off the grid to look into for a
weak link—"

Damian interrupted her train of thought as he slammed his hands on the table with renowned
vigor.
"That's not a problem, I know them well and the places they operate"

The girl couldn’t help it, she quirked a brow and challenged, "You worked with the criminal
underground or something?"

Her nemesis did not answer that carefully placed question right away. She could tell he too
was hesitant on what to share in front of Brook despite clearly needing her help. This
deplorable situation they both found themselves in required sacrifice, the two knew it.

They were not in any way making up and becoming best friends, this was a business
transaction of sorts, a very loose truce hanging by a thread for the sake of others’ well being.
Brooklyn knew Damian did not trust her and she did not feel the impulse to return that kind
of emotion, but he'd gotten information out of her today, she might as well get some of her
own.

Even if his sister was a victim of an attack, Brooklyn would push for the answers she’d
stepped in this room hoping to gain. Damian would just have to decide if the exchange of
information was worth it, but if he didn’t, she still had one secret card to play.

"Gotham is the criminal city of the world, if you want to survive, you have to know these
kinds of details. Smart people like me make a note of such organizations as a manner of
safety," Damian replied smugly.

"It's almost like you're offering to be my guide? But I'm not asking for your help, not you out
of all people," she countered, only to earn a bitter laugh from the teen seated before her.

"And I don't want your unsolicited help either, but if you are planning on going to Gotham,
I'd advise against it. A Stark would not survive in a place as complex as my home, it's not the
Red Room or New York, but a different breed of complications and delicate rules" he said
with all the seriousness in the world that made the girl realize he was probably right, not just
trying to pull her leg for more information.

Brooklyn knew it would take weeks to pinpoint the navigation of Gotham, which would be
especially hard to do if she couldn't go over and do some of that researching herself due to all
her additional duties. Sometimes Brook just wanted to get High School over with so she
could move on to the more important things in life like this criminal movement. But
Brooklyn's future was more than just being an Avenger, but also becoming a CEO and an
agent from two high-ranking divisions of SHIELD.

It would seem compromises would have to be made when it came to the time she could
dedicate to each thing.

"Whatever. Point being is that someone from Gotham is possibly manufacturing these
weapons, but I know for certain that they’re at least making money distributing to other states
and maybe even to the entire country. I think this is something bigger than just criminals
providing tools for other criminals. It's like they are working together across the country for
something big, puppets to someone's instructions in the shadows," Brook said, reaching for
her backpack and taking out a folded map of the U.S.
Her enemy stood from his desk moving to stand beside her to eye the document she spread
across the large table. She noticed the way his gaze lingered on the marked spots across the
map she’d pinpointed last night, tracing a finger along it like a route.

“That's all the places I could find that receive shipments from Gotham’s dealer” she said,
tracking his finger’s silent movement.

"There is no way they could transport to all these places without being caught," the Wayne
pointed out, "The club from last night was the first stronghold containing a mass of weapons
like these that was caught. Statistically there are too many out there, something was bound to
slip at some point if it was all out in the open like the club"

Her thoughts exactly.

From between the stacks of notebooks and binders in her backpack, Brooklyn fished out
another map, reluctant to hand it over since it was probably the most important piece of
information she'd found. The heart of her research. When Damian looked up at her, seeing
her hesitation, he shifted closer.

Just when he stood a mere inches from her, the taller teen frowned at the folded paper. From
this close, Brooklyn could see the slight exhaustion in his eyes (probably because of his
injured sibling), yet she could tell that he seemed to consider pulling out one of the small
blades he no doubt had hidden within his sleeve to threaten her.

The desperation was not his own, but for his cause. Brooklyn didn’t quite understand it, for
how could she know the pain of having an injured sibling? The closest she had to one was
technically Vision, and Brook was almost certain the A.I. was invincible enough that such a
fear would never be necessary. But the cold-hearted and selfish Damian Wayne did care more
than he seemed to be willing to admit, like it was eating him alive, enough that he’d agreed to
talk with Brook at least.

Perhaps that fear of almost losing a sibling WAS foreign to the Stark, but she was no stranger
to the other emotion on Damian's seemingly stoic face as he stared her down.

It was a drive to fix a wrong doing.

The last thing Brook wanted was to help a Wayne in any way, but just this once, she let go of
her usual disgust for the teen and handed over the paper once she realized he would not pull
out a blade and force her to talk.

It was a slightly wrinkled map of the country, but this time it depicted a pipeline system
across all states, one that proved her previously mentioned research true by showing a large
cluster of main pipes converging together in Gotham city, ones that led across the country.
Gotham had been one of the first established cities, it only made sense that they all converged
there, especially with the large amount of yearly rain they received.

Turned out that the day Brooklyn had caught those criminals at the gala, when they came in
through the piping system, it was not a coincidence in the least. They were practically telling
her how they were all getting around so discreetly.
The only reason Brooklyn hadn't told SHIELD yet was because she could tell what would
happen if she did. They were desperate for results, would no doubt storm all the buildings
with piping entrances, but with the limited amount of agents and the utter lack of
effectiveness the normal police would have to stop the alien weapons, they wouldn't be able
to get them all in time, even if all Avengers were called in to help. Innocents would die in
numbers Brook couldn’t even imagine, and with the strength of these weapons, some of her
family members could be amongst the body bags since they’d always end up getting sent to
front lines.

The criminal survivors of the raids would go back to the shadows, regrouping and taking
their secrets of operation with them. Their mastermind would never be revealed, the danger
would never be completely eradicated.

It reminded Brook of one of Ivan's many teachings from her infancy;

If you can't stop an army, cut off the head of the leader and take control for yourself without
them knowing.

Somehow, a person or multiple people in Gotham were calling the shots of distributions and
manufacturing. Brooklyn's best bet to stop all this would be to find that someone and take
control from them, figure out where everything was and all the people involved.

Then she would shut it down completely.

"You're planning to go to Gotham then? All your marks point to the Water Tower in the city,
but that place shut down years ago," Damian informed, "It had several safety violations,
enough that they built a new one on the other side of the city. All these pipelines haven't been
used in decades"

Brooklyn tapped the building on the map, "Exactly! That's where all the shipping is being
distributed. The nightclub in Queens that I stopped has a pipeline connected to that Water
Plant as well. I'm sure this is where it's all going down"

The Wayne, for once, did not challenge her idea. He beheld her with what she could only
pinpoint as mild respect, as if he finally understood just how brilliant her information really
was. He didn’t voice it of course, but that brief second in which he looked at her as if he
wasn’t sure Brook was real…for her sake, she shoved the silent validation to the back of her
brain and pretended not to have seen it in the first place.

"Last time I went by the Water Tower it was closed off for miles, claims of radioactive waste
keep others from even coming close," Damian muttered more to himself than her, "It would
make the best hide out to conduct large scale operations without being bothered"

He handed over both maps, then leaned on the table beside her with his head resting atop his
intertwined hands.

"I'll go investigate then," he said, as if that was that.

Brooklyn actually considered slapping him in the face to try and knock some sense into that
thick brain of his.

"Well, this is my information, my mission. Therefore, you won't be going, at least not alone
since you made the fantastic point about me not knowing Gotham as well as I should," she
challenged.

Both teens had another one of their now common stare downs. Even though the two of them
were clearly exhausted for one reason or another, they didn't back down not once, blazing
eyes locked into one another to see who would back down first. It almost looked like Damian
wasn’t used to being challenged when he gave an order, because his brows furrowed deeper
the longer she refused to back down.

That's when Brooklyn realized she had to strike with what had been bugging her all night, the
origin of what she wanted to discuss all along despite her nerves. This could very well
change the way she viewed her enemy, it could shatter every assumption that had made it all
the easier to despite him. But what was more valuable than the truth? In this precarious game
they were both playing, especially with the weapon operations in the background, Brooklyn
needed that truth.

Refusing to show even an ounce of her bubbling nerves, Brook straightened, watching as
Damian shoved away from the table to do the same, glaring down at her in the darkness of
the mundane classroom that was perhaps too small for their…large personalities.

After this, there was no going back.

"If anything, I will allow you to tag along just this once. It would be rather amusing having
the one and only Robin giving me a royal escort after all," Brook said, watching as Damian's
eyes widened and he quickly took a few steps back towards the closed windows.

For a few seconds, he said nothing, just glared at her while he tried to articulate a plan in his
head. She could tell a part of him wanted to attack, another likely wanted to scream her head
off. Because just as her secrets were the highest currency she owned and wanted to protect at
all costs, she’d wagered he’d be the same, especially in the face of an enemy.

Brooklyn slowly shifted closer to him until her nemesis was cornered with the window blinds
crackling noisily against his back. Though Damian's reaction was answer enough for her wild
suspicions, she wanted to hear him say it instead of running away from it.

"Seriously?" she whispered, "You don't expect that to be a surprise from me, do you? I was
hoping you would admit to it soon enough since we're now well-acquainted enemies"

Voice deep and menacing, Damian whispered back, "How did you know? Who told you?"

The words, though not a completely clear admission, were enough for her breath to stagger
for a few seconds. Because, holy shit...Damian Wayne WAS Robin.

She'd known since last night but some part of her had still been in denial, hoping she’d been
wrong or just too sleep deprived that she’d connected such obvious dots wrongly.
Trying to keep her expression calm, Brooklyn turned to glance at the locked door behind
them, the small gap under it just to make sure no one was passing by before confessing, "I did
research on Gotham last night once I figured I had to go. The Batman and his sidekicks came
up in almost every search I did on the criminal history of the city, clips of you are all over
YouTube. It didn't take a genius to notice you were Robin after that"

"Meaning?" he asked rather harshly. Even though it was Brook who was cornering him, she
suddenly felt like an animal caught in a closed cage. She'd figured his secret identity would
be a touchy subject, but he seemed to care more deeply about it than she’d wagered, clearly
not thrilled about someone like her knowing about it.

Brooklyn thought back to all the clips she'd viewed last night, how almost instantly the gears
in her brain had clicked into place when she realized she'd found something she wasn't
looking for at all.

"You have the same preference for weapons. You always initiate your attacks from the right
side, never starting off on the defensive. Though styled differently, that shade of black hair is
distinct to you in the most subtle of ways. Not to mention, you may wear a mask as Robin,
but your signature frowns are very familiar to me now. In addition to that, I could tell your
attacks were identical to those of Robin’s simply from the time we fought at school and our
little squabble at the gala. Plus…you have the same faded scar on your jawline," she
whispered, pointing upwards at it but not daring to touch his caramel-colored skin.

She was almost out of breath after listing all those reasons that had only been the surface of
her revelations. There were other smaller details that she'd connected, small things Brooklyn
hadn't realized she'd noticed about Damian until she became absorbed in the clips of Robin
no matter how poor the resolution or how dark the contrast.

Brook had noted, somewhere along the time they’d known one another, the way he always
raised his left eyebrow in challenge; the impatient way he tapped his right foot on the floor
when someone wasn't talking as fast as he wished; the decisiveness of his fighting moves; the
way his right hooks were always more effective than his left. She could match every
birthmark on his face and neck to those on Robin's own skin like the star constellations in the
sky.

There was an endless amount of small things that practically screamed Damian's name in her
head as she watched those videos on her TV last night, too absorbed in her own disbelief to
realize she’d been paying closer attention to her nemesis than she’d bargained for.

It wasn't just facts, it was a strong feeling that shook her very core.

"You and your family are keeping quite the secret, huh?" she challenged, at last pushing his
buttons enough that he shoved her off. Brooklyn didn’t have a chance to try and salvage her
stumbling from, not when his hands moved to clasp around her wrists, keeping her in place
from fleeing but probably close enough to threaten her.

"So you gathered I was Robin, but why rope my family into this? They don't have to know
about my secret identity" Damian replied.
Despite the position they were in and the fact that Damian would most certainly not like the
truths she’d be about to share, she found herself chuckling slightly before saying, "You and I
both know that's bullshit. Your father 'funds' Batman, it didn't take a genius to know it was
actually Bruce Wayne behind that bat mask. It was even more obvious by the the way you
two banter during a fight, it's the same as when you're out of costume, I witnessed it that day
we left the principal’s office"

Damian sighed, looking as if he'd give up his act of trying to instill doubts into her mind, but
then he said, "Fine, my father and I are Batman and Robin. No one else is involved though,
there would be no way to prove that so it's just poor speculations on your part"

Had she not stayed up stalking the news coverage and civilian videos from the last few years
of solved crimes and vigilante work, she might've believed it. She may know Damian better
than she would like, but he’d been right that she’d only met his family once, which should
not be enough to make any connections to Batman’s other sidekicks.

But Damian Wayne would learn today that he was seriously underestimating her. A habit of
his, one he should end before it made him look bad.

Maybe it was because the energy around them had become far too serious, even for her own
liking, that she added with feigned innocence, "You forget, I saw your brothers at the gala,
and no one else could have an ass as perfect as your eldest brother's. I figured the famous
Richard Grayson had to be Nightwing after I saw clips of him fighting in Gotham throughout
the years"

Damian let go of her immediately, looking far more ruffled than before as she barely held
back her own laughter. It hadn’t been a lie per se, but no matter how blessed his brother was
in physical attributes no other man could hope to gain, that had been only one of the clues
she’d collected as to why her assumptions were correct.

"You stared at my brother's rear at the gala?" Damian asked, almost seeming to force the
words out with some degree of difficulty.

The Stark smirked, "Everyone does, have you not noticed?"

For some reason, Damian rushed over to her faster than she could register. Now it was her
who was pinned against the wall, and he’d lowered his face low enough that their breaths
mingled. He was glaring at her with a different sort of intensity, his eyes keenly locked onto
her own as his hands moved against the wall to cage her in.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered harshly.

“Done what? Admire your brother or discover your family secrets?” Brook bit back with just
as much force. She wouldn’t be intimidated by him of all people, and if he thought he could
actually scare her, he’d be sorely disappointed.

The little light that made its way into the room through the small gaps of the blinds
illuminated his emerald eyes enough that this close up, she couldn't help but wonder what
other secrets were hidden behind the windows to his soul.
When the bell rang loud and clear across the room and beyond it, Brooklyn slowly smiled
before ducking under his arm, moving to gather her things and head out to class before her
absence could be questioned. She heard shuffling behind her, and as soon as she was out the
room, Damian was right beside her, glaring at the confused and curious gazes from the
students slowly filling in around them.

To her surprise, the demon didn’t drop the subject of her intentional distraction, he actually
leaned in closer and whispered into her ear, "You cannot tell anyone about me and my family,
or I'll forego my usual rules and morals and kill you where you stand"

Brooklyn raised hands in defense, even than clutching her notebook, and whispered quickly
before the students on the other side of the hall could pass them, "Consider it done, not a
word from me as long as you keep my past a secret and my current mission to yourself"

Though she caught sight of his faint yet reluctant nod, Brook still used the last few seconds of
mild privacy they had to discreetly whispered, "Though I will admit, I never expected
someone like you to be a vigilante"

The Wayne glared down at her with that icy coldness she was so familiar with, whispering
back, "Well, I never thought you would be working towards the heroic path. When you said
you were working for SHIELD, I thought you were joking"

Fine. Fair.

Brooklyn: 1

Damian: 1

Clutching her book closer to her chest, the girl swerved past the gawking crowds as she
chuckled darkly at the demon's words, and once the group of puzzled students passed, she
quietly mused mostly to herself, "Unbelievable. Not only are we family enemies and future
business rivals, but our secret activities clash as well. Figures…"

The two began descending down the winding stairs leading to the first floor, garnering the
attention of many more ascending students, until Brooklyn decided she didn’t want to risk
rumors flying around. Last thing she needed was people thinking she was somehow
associated with the imbecile by her side.

As soon as the pair made it back to the first floor, Brooklyn spotted her friend group by
Peter's locker. When his puppy-like eyes met her own, the Stark shot Damian one last
knowing wink before leaving him behind to go to her friends.

Her friends didn't have enough time to question where she'd been thanks to the bell’s
warning, so Brooklyn, MJ, and Tanya went to literature in relative peace. Tanya did shoot her
a few questioning looks no doubt for being gone for so long, but the Stark was able to put
suspicions to rest as soon as they came into class....well not her exactly, but the environment
around them did.
The class was decorated with paper castles stapled on opposite walls of the room, and if that
wasn’t odd enough, their pregnant teacher was wearing a 14th century dress like it was
common attire. Brook should've been surprised, but Tanya's head shake was enough to prove
this was a normal occurrence.

When the students took their seats, Brooklyn noticed all tables had new books laid out.

The lectures on The Great Gatsby were now over at last, replaced by another all-time classic
Brook despised, but her old boss back at the Diner absolutely loved.

Romeo and Juliet. Or as Brook liked to call it, Idiotic teen #1 and Idiotic teen #2.

"A tale in old Verona," the teacher announced excitedly as she walked between the rows in
the class, "about two teenagers in love who perhaps shouldn't have been, can anyone tell me
why?"

Of course, at the front of the class MJ was quick to raise her hand, the only one to ever
volunteer her knowledge willingly. Not even for the allure of additional points, but because
it's how she was, someone who’d deliver any information she had on a topic simply because
she knew it.

Beside Brook, Tanya clapped silently in gleeful anticipation.

"They were standing between an age-old vendetta between their two powerful families, the
Montagues and Capulets, one that erupted into bloodshed," MJ said, earning the usual praise
from Mrs. Pettel.

Tanya's preceding standing ovation was practically enough to be considered praise on behalf
of the whole class. MJ must’ve taken it as a friend being overly supportive, because she made
little gestures for the cheerleader to sit down, but still smiled at the kindness.

Back at the front of the class, the teacher nodded vigorously, going on about praise for the
author himself as Tanya had seemingly recovered from MJ’s recognition enough to whisper
towards Brook, "I would say family feuds are so 14th century, but it seems our school has
their own set of Montagues and Capulets. Don't you think so?"

Very funny.

"My family's issue with the Waynes is not nearly as barbaric and idiotic as the one in this
book. Plus I have no connections to Damian whatsoever, much less hopelessly romantic
ones" Brook whispered back in defense.

Tanya smirked, "That's right! Because you're still hopelessly romantically inclined towards a
certain science enthusiast, Star-Wars loving, kind neighbor. My dear Capulet, it's a shame I'm
right because your forbidden love story could’ve been legendary. Damian did slut shame the
entire cheer team last week, but damn is he a hot guy! I had a dream about him last night, but
instead of it being something that put his good looks to good use, it was about me working at
Wayne Enterprises and getting fired by him. Still, he's a very good looking Montague, I'd
betray my family for someone that looked like that in a heartbeat," the cheerleader teased,
enough so that Brook rolled her eyes and threw her dusty book at Tanya's shoulder.

If she ever heard the words Damian and hot in the same sentence again, it better mean her
nemesis somehow caught fire. Even if he was a colossal waste of good looks, he was the
foulest human being she’d ever met, not to mention an apparent vigilante.

By the time the class was forced to split into two, one on each side of the class portraying one
of the two families from the book, the reading of their new book began despite suggestions of
foregoing reading and just watching the movie adaptations instead.

Each time something about the famous family feud was mentioned, Tanya always shot Brook
a playful smirk from her Montague side across the room. Unnecessary mocking, if Brook was
being honest, even though it made her feel like a traitor to her own family knowing she’d just
secretly met with a Wayne that very morning.

When Brooklyn finally got away from that teasing and made it to history, she'd briefly
forgotten her nemesis was in that class until the jokingly dubbed Montague of Tanya's
deranged fantasy walked inside.

She'd expected him to be too shocked over her little discovery to forget about her planned trip
to Gotham, but when his eyes locked onto her own from his place by the door, she hated the
fact that Damian clearly didn’t appear that ruffled anymore.

As soon as the demon took the seat beside her own, he ignored the shrinking and terrified
looks from the students around him as he whispered towards her so only she could hear,
"When are you going to Gotham?"

Fantastic, to further her family betrayal, Brook would now be speaking to her enemy in class.
She could always lie, but now that he knew everything, Damian could just go alone without
her as soon as possible seeing as he practically lived in Gotham. This could either be an
unnecessary race, or she could swallow her pride and prioritize safety and proper planning
instead.

Brooklyn made a show of opening her history book to a random chapter, both of them
keeping their gazes away from one another once Flash and his loud friends came inside. They
always watched Brook like a hawk.

Suddenly glad she had the skills to speak without her lips visibly moving, Brook replied, "I
don't have family matters to attend to today since I asked for permission to stay in Queens for
the football game. So I'll probably leave right after its is over since I have plans away for the
weekend"

That meant going over to Gotham late into the night, when the city was rumored to be at its
most dangerous. It was when the monsters and vigilantes came out to play under the cover of
darkness. But hopefully, seeing as it would be late into the night, maybe operations for the
alien weapons would be at the mildest and only a few guards would be on watch.
"Then we go tonight, both of us find an excuse to get away. Then after that, we don't talk to
one another ever again unless further attacks against these criminals need to be approached as
a cohesive unit" the demon said, which she supposed were acceptable terms.

The quicker they got this done, the less they’d have to see one another afterwards.

Brooklyn nodded subtly, keeping her eyes on the page of her book. Coincidentally, the page
she’d randomly chosen was one which just so happened to have a photo of the Avengers, her
family, from the battle of New York. It wasn’t anything magnificent, like a depiction of them
saving civilians or fighting aliens, but rather a low quality photo of six tired heroes that were
battered and bruised but still alive…eating food in a restaurant that was as beat up as they
were.

When Fury had approached her with the mission of investigating the criminals of the city, she
figured even the Director had no idea her leads would get her this close to the problem at
hand. Neither had to say it out loud, they knew the secrecy of this mission from the Avengers
was because for all her skills, they’d never let her approach any danger alone.

It's who they were as heroes, as a family.

Fury had granted her the assignment so she could grow and use her skills for a good cause…
but Brooklyn, she had taken the assignment to prove herself at first. Now, all she cared about
was keeping her mom, dad, and the Avengers as far from any unnecessary dangers as
possible. She didn’t want to see them like this, exhausted and wounded, risking their lives
when they’d done nothing to deserve this betrayal from the very humans they’d fought so
hard to save.

Damian Wayne had already suffered a blow to his own vigilante family that had been
investigating this very issue, the last thing Brooklyn wanted was to feel that same ache now
or in the future. For that purpose, she’d work with whoever she needed to and go wherever
the signs pointed at her.

Carefully switching the page so as to not plot a secret mission with her ‘family’ present,
Brook muttered, "After the game then. You better not tell your family or anyone about this,
stealth is our greatest advantage right now"

Keeping his face buried in his own book, her nemesis scoffed, "Stealth? I have my suit, but
what will you do to conceal your identity? Unless you want all of Gotham to know a Stark is
roaming around what should be enemy territory for her. Did you even think that part
through?"

"I have a black SHIELD suit with a decent hood in my locker. I decided to wear something
that will wash out blood easily just to be on the safe side" Brook whispered back with a smile
as she looked out the closed window beside her, "Once we are done, we don't talk to each
other ever again, got it? We'll keep the other's secrets but aside from that, no more being
around one another"

She once again insisted on that part. Brook couldn't keep betraying her family by allying with
a Wayne, and though it was the mildest of the offenses she’d be doing tonight, she’d feel
better not hiding anything else from her otets.

Damian huffed out a bitter laugh beside her.

"Trust me, I wouldn't have it any other way"

Before she could reply, their awful teacher demanded everyone's attention for the lesson. But
unlike usual, when nothing stopped him from getting right to the history of the day, his
specked eyes met Brook's.

Mr. Travis' booming voice rang across the space as he walked in her direction. This had to be
about the project instructions he hadn’t wanted to tell Peter about, making a spectacle about
her punishment was going a little overboard though.

Brooklyn’s impassive expression did not falter, nor did her posture as the teacher approached.

"It seems your punishment was served properly, Mr Wayne and Miss Stark," he said, looking
between both teens in seats of the furthest edge of the class. From behind the man nearing
form, Brook could see Flash smirking from his own seat, no doubt because he'd tease her
about getting in trouble later.

"Yes sir, the punishment has been fulfilled," Brook said, trying her hardest not to sound bored
or even bothered by the act of public humiliation. It felt an awful lot like a test, one to see
how the Princess of New York, as so many called her, would buckle under the weight of her
mistake.

Pathetic. She’d been born in the Red Room where those approaches of torture were nothing
more than the norm of everyday life. She’d fulfilled her task flawlessly, there was no shame
in that.

The teacher stopped between both desks, staring down at the heirs with nothing short of his
usual malice and outmost distaste for all teens. It's a mystery as to why this man chose to be
an educator in the first place.

"A project was assigned in your absence, one of utmost importance," he announced, and
Brooklyn was already dreading the amount of time it would take to complete until the teacher
added, "Everyone picked out their partners for the assignment yesterday. Since only you two
are the only ones left without a partner, I've decided you will work on this assignment
together"

Damian and Brook faced each other as slowly as possible, the shadow of their teacher’s body
before them obscuring the view of their faces from the rest of the eager class. Both were
ready to burst from their seats, but secretly hoped that if they turned cautiously, their partner
on the chair beside them would change.

This wasn’t an act of humiliation for the rich girl, but a test in light of the broken rule the two
teens had violated. The giggles and curses from their whispering class were clear enough that
they’d all been waiting for this, that their teacher’s mind was not likely to be swayed.
Brooklyn was now partnered with her one true enemy for a school assignment, ironically
enough after she’d told the Wayne they could go about their lives separately after tonight’s
mission.

When they did manage to look at one another, neither of the heirs could help it, they stood
from their seats lividly, both demanding a new partner at the same time.

The class stared at them in amused shock and silence as Mr. Travis appeared to almost laugh
at the misery contained in their eyes.

"I already decided no changes will be allowed, and you both best put your family quarrels
aside for this, because it is worth a third of your grade and must be done together. If I find out
otherwise then you will lose all your points. A shame considering you two are the best in the
class, and I understand you both have ambitions to be valedictorian," the obese man mocked,
almost urging Brooklyn to climb atop her desk so she could choke the life out of him.

But one punishment from school was enough for a lifetime, the last thing she needed now
was a zero on her project and another visit to the principal's office. Not only was her future as
a Stark dependent on her grades and school discipline, but she had a mission to get to tonight.
Nothing could get in the way of that, not when so much was hanging in the balance.

"But, we can't work well together," Brook argued, "the project would be a disaster!"

Mr. Travis was already walking away after throwing an instruction paper on each of the teens'
desks.

"You should've thought about that, Miss Stark, before starting a fist fight that made you miss
class. I for one think both of your punishments were far too forgiving, I think this will be a
little more effective in encouraging non-violent teamwork from you two. I don't care if your
dads call to complain, no amount of money or long-standing family feud will stop you from
being partners in my class"

Damian's hands collided with his desk harshly, enough to startle the students around him.

"I can't have my flawless academic success depending on someone like her," he complained,
a comment that sent both teens glaring at one another. It was funny, the two had briefly
trusted when fleeing the mutants yesterday, but now that they’d be forced to do an academic
task (for which the two usually competed against one another for a better grade) it was
impossible to summon any ounce of that fleeting trust.

The teacher calmly returned back to his desk, folding his hands atop it like a man who'd just
won the lottery, "Consider that your punishment for missing my class, Mr. Wayne. I should
add that if you don't pass this project, you will fail the class. I don't care if you do, but it
would be a shame. Now both of you, sit back down before you get detention!"

Both reluctantly did as they were told. It wasn't often dangerous assassins let themselves be
commanded, especially by men like Mr. Travis, but there were too many things on the line.
Even deadly creatures such as themselves knew when to pick their battles.
Detention would not be helpful at a time like this, but that didn't stop Brook from subtly
glaring at both her new history partner and the man who had planned it all as some sort of
way to inflate his own ego.

Guide to Gotham and partner for a project....spending useless time together for something
that wasn't worth saving lives seemed just as unpleasant as things could get.

By the time the lecture on the Amazons of Themyscira was over, Brooklyn had to physically
restrain herself back from doing something that would get her in trouble. Instead, she ignored
the students’ not-so-subtle staring and walked out with her head held high.

One day she'd get back at Mr. Travis, just not today...

On her way out into the already crowded hall, Flash had somehow caught up to her and
briefly stood before her, shooting her a wink as he promised to see her at the game, before
scrambling away with his crew. Their academic squabbles during Decathlon practice were
one thing, but Flash really didn’t know he was taunting a sleeping monster.

To her surprise, Damian was suddenly standing beside her frozen form, staring at Flash's
retreating form with a hint of disgust visible on his own face. The two teens didn’t dare look
at one another as their distanced, yet equal paced steps to their destination.

"So...I guess we'll be stuck together a little longer for the sake of our grades. At least this
gives us a believable excuse if we are ever caught together for this mission," Brook
mumbled, doing as Grandpa Steve always advised, looking on the bright side of things even
if said bright side was looking a little cloudy right about now.

When she peeked a glance at Damian in the crowded hall, he looked like he'd rather not do
the same, but he still followed as she made her way towards her locker, where he too made
quick work of leaving books on his own. The distance between them still too close for her
liking.

It was like the universe wanted to constantly put her in close proximity to this guy just to see
if she would snap one day, maybe it was a test to see if she would go against her pact against
taking another life. These lockers, the preschool, the nightclub, classes...this project and their
mission tonight were probably a step towards that inevitable tipping point.

When the two finally made their way back into the flow of the crowd, they both seemed to
realize at the same moment that they were both headed for the locker rooms and would have
to end up walking together for a little longer. They did so in silence, much to the apparent
amusement of everyone around them.

Still, the frowns and anger radiating off their bodies should be enough for her classmates to
realize Brook and Damian were in no way good acquaintances.

"We can work on the heinous project next week since we have to sort out the Gotham issue
today" he whispered, leading them down the less crowded path to the gym, taking the open
field path instead of the warm hall inside the school.
Brook sighed, following along as she relented, "Fine, we can come up with a subject then,
finish it as fast as we can. I won't have you be the cause of my academic demise"

"When do we work on it, after school? Because I have to make plans accordingly"

The Stark laughed, "Must be such a bother trying to fit me into your busy schedule. But yes, I
suppose we'll have to work on it after my Decathlon practice, preferably not at school where
people will follow us around waiting for a fight to arise"

The demon frowned, "I'm not letting you anywhere near my house"

When Damian mentioned his home, she imagined a dark place, one with storm clouds above,
old furniture and ancient paintings. She imagined a palace with a thousand servants to deal
with the wealth of it all. To be fair, Brook wasn't entirely sure what the home of the Batman
would be like, but she sure as hell didn't want to find out.

What if they had a torture basement? Worse, what if Damian’s father truly was a vampire as
legends claimed and she’d end up bled dry. Aliens were undoubtedly real, mutants and gods
roamed the planet, believing in the existence of other creatures of myth was not that difficult.

"Relax, that's the last place I want to be in. I suppose we can do it at my home, it's closer to
the school and free of paparazzi and classmates. I'll have to disinfect the whole place
afterwards, but it will be a quiet space to get things done" she mused, not entirely joking this
time.

"I don't want to go to a place full of Avengers," Damian countered, to which Brooklyn replied
rather harshly, "Trust me, they won't even know I have to spend time around you, my dad
would freak. Besides, I live alone in an apartment near the school grounds"

When they reached the crossroads of the Gym building for the locker rooms, Damian paused,
turning back to say, "I suppose that's the best option. Fine, then after the project and the
mission we never talk again. You better be ready after today’s game, I wait for no one"

"I couldn't agree more," she huffed out, disappearing into the girl’s locker room.

Not long after she was surrounded by her friends inside the gym with many questions thrown
her way like high speed bullets. Midtown was a gossip hotbed, word of the rivals of the
school working together on a project had traveled faster than the answers for the pop quiz of
a low level math class. Her friends were more concerned than judgmental, mostly because
they understood that Damian was the last person she wanted to be partners with.

Peter offered to help out however he could, even going as far as to suggest he be there when
Damian came over to work on the project when she mentioned that little bit of information.
She wasn't sure why Pete was suddenly so concerned for her when it came to the Wayne, but
it was endearing in a way.

But he did not care the same way he did for MJ, that was for sure.
His longing gazes towards Michelle did not lessen in the least throughout gym, Brooklyn had
to fight the urge to admit to herself that she was slightly bothered by that fact. Luckily, there
were always other things to focus on rather than her tragic misfortune where foreign 'feelings'
were concerned.

One of them was Flash, who as always, tried to ask her out on a date to the game despite her
clear dislike for him. Ned and Peter, as always, asked politely for him to leave and let them
run their laps in peace, but Flash was persistent today for some particular and unknown
reason.

It was like everyone was off their right minds today.

In a fortunate accident, as Damian Wayne ran by them without a sweat or care in the world,
he accidentally bumped Flash's form that had been clinging by Brooklyn's side. Thompson
went tumbling down on the floor rather painfully, yet the Wayne just kept running like
nothing had occurred.

Though she'd never voice it or even admit it, she was slightly grateful for the accident.

Who knew Damian's stupidity could be used to her advantage?

After an uneventful day of classes, one filled with many solo assignments and preparations
for upcoming exams, Brooklyn was spent. Unfortunately, it was game day at Midtown High,
and laziness or lack of school spirit would not be allowed by anyone.

As soon as the final bell rang, the school erupted into chaos, masses of students heading over
to the field like a river of blue and gold. All except Damian Wayne of course, who stuck to
his darker colors, but it was honestly surprising to see him at the game to begin with. Then
she recalled Jon had been raving about his first game during Calculus, and that suddenly
explained the Wayne’s presence out on the bleachers. Sure enough, Kent was already
warming up with the team below, looking more at ease than anyone else in his new uniform.

Speaking of players, Harry had stopped by before the game began, hugging the group of
friends tight before going down the field and telling his team to wave at their lucky charm
just to annoy Brooklyn. Payback for accidentally eating his brownie at lunch.

When the football team gladly played along and began waving her way, she'd caught Jon's
eye, which is when he shouted a rather unexpected proposal.

"If I score the first touchdown, will you finally agree to finally being friends with me,
Brooklyn?" Jon shouted, earning claps on the shoulders from his teammates and even some
cheers from the stands behind her.

Brooklyn immediately looked sideways down the edge of the bleachers where Damian was
at, noticing he looked just as appealed by the suggestion, clearly not some scheme
orchestrated by him...

Maybe Jon was just the kind of guy who NEEDED to have everyone like him.
So Brook told Kent to do whatever he wanted, but after a pleading nudge from Peter to be
kinder, she nodded in agreement. Jon had seemed energized by her agreement, and when field
the lights came on and the enemy school got into position, it wasn't long before Midtown
began making good plays.

To Brook's horror, the small statistical chance that Jon was actually a good player capable of
touchdowns seemed to come alive right before her eyes. From her place down on the field,
even Tanya had looked up to give the ex-assassin a look that practically screamed, Yeah,
you're screwed.

It wasn't long before Jon's surprising skills proved fruitful despite his late arrival into the
team. The first touchdown was a forty yard run from Kent, in which he managed to dodge
any one that came his way and ran like the wind.

It was unbelievable...just like everything lately.

When Brook shot a wide eyed look at Jon's friend who stood by his lonesome down the
bleacher line, Damian merely ignored her, clapping unenthusiastically at his friend's first
victory.

Even he seemed a bit peeved.

That's actually how most of the game went, Harry making great passes and calls, Jon picking
up the gaps where his teammates faltered. In the end the score board showed a great
preference in Midtown's favor, which only riled her classmates more.

Now fully understanding the rules of the game thanks to Harry and Tanya’s insight these past
couple of months, Brooklyn was able to enjoy this game more than her first. Even when she
knew the mission after the game might be unsavory, she cheered along with her friends,
chanted the school mantras with Tanya and her cheerleaders. Brook even bought snacks for
her friends to share after Peter's halftime performance with the band.

That last part she mildly regretted, if only because Peter and MJ were put in a position by
chance of sharing the last churro. They were both blushing messes, careful to take turns
biting the snack that only seemed to bring them closer.

Brooklyn felt that odd discomfort again, one that Ned seemed to notice this time. He stuck by
her side since then, not mentioning anything, just being there for support. She just hoped he
wouldn't say anything to Peter about it, not when Brooklyn's two friends looked genuinely
happy together. Like the romantic movies Pepper loved to watch, the perfect couple.

Of course that didn’t matter to her, Brooklyn was a young woman with a far greater purpose
than seeking love. She was tasked with saving lives, obviously not letting a churro cause her
emotional distress.

When the final scoreboard indicated a win for Midtown at last, the whole school practically
erupted into chaos because of it. After hugging Harry and Tanya for their hard work playing
and cheering, Brooklyn quickly mentioned she had some things to do and would see them
Monday.
They all hugged her goodbye, and Brook genuinely hoped today's mission would not make
this her last hug with them. As soon as she noticed Jon and Damian parting ways, she used
the wild crowds to her advantage to sneak away to the front of the school.

Damian caught up to her eventually, just outside the gates where no other student could see
them since they were all still celebrating in the large field.

There was no time to waste now.

"The subway will be faster, follow me. We can get ready once we arrive," she said, earning a
small nod from Damian before Brook heard her name being shouted close behind them.

She froze, slowly turning around to see Peter was making his way towards them, looking
between the Stark and Wayne in confusion. He halted a few feet away, brows raised, mouth
opening and closing until he found his voice.

"Hey, um...I was wondering if you wanted to walk home together, Brook?" he asked, trying
not to seem concerned with Damian's presence by her side.

Crap.

"Wasn't Aunt May gonna pick you up to go get Chinese food? I can walk home on my own
Pete, no need to worry, go spend time with her instead" she said, trying to soothe her friend
despite her inner panic.

Before Peter could inquire about Damian's presence, no doubt thinking they were in the midst
of a fight or something, Damian's patience vanished. He shifted closer to her side so that their
coats touched and backpacks bumped against one another.

He took hold of her arm with his gloved hand and sent one of his more intense glares Peter's
way before saying, "We have to discuss a project, scram Parker"

Both Peter and Brook were left speechless, she at his rudeness and Peter likely out of fear.
Yet the Stark still let herself be guided away from her best friend, only because time was
precious and they needed to get to Gotham as soon as possible.

So Brooklyn waved at her friend as if nothing was wrong before the pair vanished down the
nearby subway entrance. She could always text Peter some excuse tomorrow, but
tonight...tonight she had work to do.

As the pair found the proper subway and stop, they sat in silence in a secluded corner of their
cart, each likely lost thinking on all the things they had to do once they arrived and what was
driving them for this mission.

The situation could very well be more than she bargained for, at which point Brook might
have to contact her dad of SHIELD. Hopefully, it would be just as easy as yesterday’s
infiltration. But for now, Brook tried to convince herself that all would be alright even with
so many variables missing. Robin was a decent fighter, her backup wasn’t completely
useless. That should help things go smoothly.
 In that empty subway ride to Gotham seated next to the teen in a black coat, Brooklyn tried to
gather her wits, hoping that she'd make it unscathed for family game night tomorrow.

Unbeknownst to her, Peter had not let the matter go. He'd frantically gone over to Ned, the
only person who could understand what was truly going on as he pulled him back to the
bleachers for some privacy.

Peter explained what he'd learned about Damian being an assassin like Brook, how he'd seen
them both at the nightclub last night, the one that had shut down. He told Ned that he'd seen
them leaving together just now...that something had to be going on.

"Maybe they ARE just going to discuss their project, Brooklyn hates the guy, Pete. Plus she
wouldn't start another fight with him when she just got out of trouble" Ned argued, hugging
his school hoodie close.

Peter sat down at one of the cold bleachers to quell his rising nerves, "I don't think so, there is
something about Damian that isn't right. Yesterday, he fled the scene with the help of a guy
with a levitating bed sheet! We have to make sure she’d alright"

Ned perked up at that, "If this is a Spider-man mission, remember I'm your guy in the chair"

The hero smiled, clapping his friend on the back, "Can you help me figure out what's going
on? Brook won't tell civilian Peter, and she's mad at Spider-man. But you could find out,
right?"

Ned nodded, not an ounce of doubt in his mind.

"Maybe I can hack into Brooklyn's phone, see where she's going"

Peter hugged his best friend tight, quickly guiding them to Aunt May's waiting car. He
casually invited Ned to eat with them, making sure they didn't take too long in the restaurant
before both boys decided to have an 'unplanned sleepover' as a celebration for the game won
today.

Aunt May didn't buy that, she might’ve a year ago, but knowing all she did his aunt could
always see through his scheming. Knowing this had something to do with Spider-man
business, she just implored them not to stay up too late and make sure that if 'someone' left
the apartment, that he returned at a reasonable hour unscathed or there would be
consequences.

With that, they set up Ned's laptops in Peter's room, brought a large array of sugary snacks to
keep them awake, and got to work in figuring out just why their friend was acting so strange
since this morning.

Hopefully it wasn't anything bad...Peter really hoped so, for both their sakes.

Chapter End Notes

The next chapter will be a very interesting Gotham mission that I think most of you will
enjoy, one in which the pair of enemies will be in Damian's territory at last. Wonder how
that will play out...

*insert evil laughter*

Thank you for reading!

(Cover art Avandellart and made by Maisy)

 Gotham's Cruel Reality

Brooklyn POV-

Gotham was just as she'd imagined, yet her mental image still didn’t live up to the reality that
was the City of Crime in all its gloomy glory.

It was cold, dark…and strangely, heavily populated. Brooklyn would've thought the crime
city of the world would hold less inhabitants with all the killings that went on in this place.
Despite its very notable technological advancements and beautiful goth-like city squares, she
couldn’t see what could make someone love this place enough to stay and risk death at every
corner.

Once the teens had made it to the Gotham City metro stop, she could almost feel a difference
in the air, a consciousness in the people around her that residents from Queens did not
possess. They were alert, angry, afraid, but vigilant nonetheless. These were the children born
in the darkness, the ones that looked at this massive city and embraced its flaws.

From the little she knew, Gotham had no heroes, only its controversial vigilantes and the raw
bravery of the police force. Living here, in a place so governed by fear...it was no wonder
Damian Wayne's attitude was as such. Despite the late hour in which they arrived, Brooklyn
wondered if the sun ever dared to grace this city with its presence.

According to her unusual companion, the city was divided into sections, all connected by
long bridges that had been destroyed so many times, most of them were built to withstand
bombs rather than to look appealing to the eye. There was Northern Gotham, a bit of the
island-like city that much like its southern neighbor, New Gotham, was where all the luxury
lay and the technological advancements lit up the city like a cruel beacon of light amidst the
darkness. That's where their exit out of the station was, between the massive Gotham Theatre
and the even more luxurious Diamond District full of shops and skyscrapers. Even at a
distance, one couldn’t miss that the tallest building on this side of the city belonged to the
Waynes.

They’d slowly worked their way past the Oxford-like Gotham University square with
masonry buildings with cavernous spaces and the expanse of walls broken up by overlaid
tracery, crossing a bridge towards the ‘islands’ known as Historic Gotham and Lower
Gotham east of what was known as Downtown Gotham…which were not as beautiful to
behold. Those were the places where the city’s gothic and dangerous reputation came into
place. These were the poor neighborhoods, the ones with dark buildings topped with
terrifying gargoyles, flickering street lights, and dangerous streets Damian kept them away
from.

Unlike Brook, Damian did not stop to gawk at every passing aspect of the city, he merely
guided them through the empty alleyways, from roof to roof, and even through some
questionable abandoned buildings in the more decrepit parts of Gotham. The places that
looked like horror movie sets.
Damian knew his home well, just as he'd claimed. Not entirely unexpected considering his
job as the famed Robin probably required such expansive knowledge from him. As they
made their way through what looked to be an old and abandoned industrial building,
Brooklyn took the chance to take in the suit he’d changed to upon their arrival. It was the
only interesting thing in this dusty and decrepit place.

On the large screen TV back in her flat, Brook could not behold the very detailed aspects of
his vigilante look, the attire that allowed him to mask all he truly was. She was quick to note
the getup was not just for dramatic flare. The material was strong and sturdy, armor that
clung to his body, some bits made of a type of woven fabric that clearly let her see the outline
of his abdominal muscles beneath it. The red fabric itself seemed to have faded in color from
its original shade, likely after so many washes trying to get the stains of vigilante work out,
but the capital R made of a muted golden metal on the left side of his chest was still new, like
a plaque of honor.

Dare she say, the closest thing Gotham probably had to a sheriff's badge aside from the black
bat symbol on Batman's chest.

Knives, he had so many cleverly hidden blades strapped to himself, no doubt an old assassin
habit. But his main weapons, those twin katanas of his strapped behind his black cloak,
looked sharp enough to go cut through concrete. For some reason, the black hilts of them,
one of which she’d caught a peek of back at the nightclub, was eerily familiar. The glowing
line in the middle of each blade that was a more muted shade than the splendor of the very
alien weapons they were hunting down, its glow emitted a warmth she could feel if she got
too close to him (which was no doubt heat meant to make cutting through objects easier).
That part of the blade was modern, but those hilts were of a dark stone that could’ve been a
darker twin to the look of emerald, its detail hidden by a worn black leather strap wrapped
around it.

In fact, she supposed if one dared to look close enough, little bits of his costume showed a bit
of damage sustained at some point, from blows and hits that might’ve injured him. Brook
didn’t know why, but even though it was none of her business and she shouldn’t care in the
first place, she wondered just how close to the gates of death her enemy had gotten at the
hands of this city’s criminals. The patched up scar along the red fabric on his chest had most
certainly been a painful hit, the battered sings on his black leather boots had an array scrapes
along the back of his calves that could’ve rendered him immobile if the cut went deep
enough.

Damian turned to look back at her as she muted her odd concerns behind a mask of
indifference. He stared back at her form in the darkness of the empty concrete space that
echoed with their every step, and despite the domino mask he wore that covered the middle
of his face, she could easily tell he was scowling.

"What are you staring at me for?" he whispered, clutching the sleeve of her black body suit to
trudge her along a sudden turn along the crumbling building that had concrete slabs of its
walls scattered on the floor. Wreckage she did her best to hop over or go around.

Dodging a massive pipe on the floor, Brooklyn kept pace with the hooded teen before her,
adjusting the hood of her own outfit just in case there were any lingering cameras in this
place. Though she seriously doubted it, this place looked as if it had gone through a bombing
or had been abandoned centuries ago and left for dead.

Damian knew it well though, he knew which flights of stairs to go up through, what areas had
sturdy ground without so many holes to keep track of. Despite his quickened pace, he
lingered near her, occasionally making a show of glaring at a certain spot on the ground as if
that's all the warning of a possible danger he’d grant her. A kindness he shouldn't be
bestowing his enemy in the first place.

Seeing him like this, as Robin and not the Wayne she’d studied these past few days, made her
curious. Perhaps too much for her own good.

"Who convinced you to become a vigilante? To give up killing? That's not an easy idea to get
by for people like us, especially for League assassins that stab first and ask questions later"
Brook found herself asking, a question that had lingered in the back of her mind since she’d
seen him done the outfit in the back of that lonely alley illuminated by a single flickering
light that let her see Robin up close for the first time.

Damian slowed his pace, lingering by her side this time as she shot her the closest to an
amused expression she could pinpoint.

"Speaking from experience?" he shot back, jumping up to the ledge of a broken window at
the end of the hallway, hanging on to the metal decorative supports still in place to lean
towards the outside of the building. From her place leaning on the chipping wall beside it, she
could tell they were a good six floors off the ground, but the adjacent building’s roof was
only a floor down.

She already knew what he was thinking.

Without hesitation, Brooklyn took one of the scattered electricity cables on the dusty floor,
giving it a few tugs to be sure of its sturdiness before jumping out the building with it. The
rush of the cold air was more prominent than any fear of heights. Thankfully, the cable held
from where she quickly wrapped it around a nearby flag pole, and Brook was able to properly
land on the gravel roof after a quick roll of her body to absorb the speed of her descent.

Behind her, Brook noted her nemesis shot a grappling hook to one of the large antennas
above her head. With ease, the smug bastard swung down to her side with more flare than
she’d displayed, cloak whose ends were curved like those of bat wings flowing with the wind
and blending into the darkness of the night.

Though she'd never admit it, those gadgets of his seemed very handy and he clearly knew
how to use them to their greatest potential. Brook wondered if Bruce Wayne had made them,
if the ability to create weapons and tinkering came as easy to him as it was to her own father.

When he landed by her side as easily retracted his rope, she rolled her eyes at Damian's
expectant stare, not sure if he was being smug or if he was still expecting an answer to their
previous conversation. Regardless, after she shot him a vulgar gesture he smirked at, the two
began leaping across the various roofs before them, keeping side by side, and somehow
always knowing what roof the other was going to pick.
To an observer's eye, they probably made it look easy.

Amidst the constant annoyance of having him by her side, Brooklyn deigned to answer his
earlier statement if only to make their way across town less awkward.

"I am speaking from experience about the difficulties of letting go of the past, I hold no
shame over that, not anymore. Choosing to become something different than what you've
been told all your life...that was not a choice I settled on quickly," she admitted, half cursing
herself for being so honest with a Wayne.

But she'd done it because...he'd get it. Whatever criticism and jabs she could throw at the
Wayne, being a vigilante was not one of them. Even she could admit that his work was saving
lives, that even if it was outside of the realms of the law, he had changed from the path his
assassin guild had likely ingrained into his brain. Out of everyone in this wretched city, in
this troubled country, and even in this massive world, it would be him of all people that might
understand.

Indeed, when his masked gaze turned her way, Brooklyn noticed his stiff posture ease ever so
slightly. The sigh that came out of his mouth was like the sound of the defeated, but he still
admitted, "It was my father. I am Bruce Wayne's son, becoming like this was the way to make
him proud so I did. After a while it didn't seem like such an awful path to follow"

The words almost made Brook pause, but she forced her steady pace to continue as she
leaped over to another roof much closer than the last.

"What made YOU change?" Damian asked after they made their way around opposite ends
of a domed roof, reuniting on the other side. Brook tried to hide her dismay with a blank face,
but the fact that he was curious enough to ask...it felt as surreal as standing next to her enemy
willingly.

For a few seconds, the Stark considered lying, but his own answer had seemed genuine
earlier. Brook wasn't sure who else in this world had seen that openness from him, if anyone
at all. This could just be another bit of information the two would shove into that vault of
secrets that would be left to rot once they finally parted ways for real. Brooklyn could afford
that small bit of honesty.

So she let out a sigh of her own and replied over the sounds of boat horns from the ever
nearing pier, "I didn't want to become a part of SHIELD at first, much less what they have
planned for me in the future. Unlike you, I didn't even want to meet my dad back then either.
But something changed, I'm still not sure when it started, but my family showed me a better
path. I guess now I'm just like you, doing this for my parents approval and pride...but also to
atone for my past crimes. I have red in my ledger, I want to wipe it out"

Damian did not laugh at Brooklyn as she'd expected he might, he didn't even mock her for
any of the words she'd spouted in her haze of honesty. As they ran along a flat roof side by
side, he just...his gaze remained locked onto her own under that domino mask of his, black
hair flowing against the passing wind.

Again, that particular tilt of his head made it seem as if he was seeing her for the first time.
She too was momentarily mesmerized by his own truths, the birth of the cloaked vigilante
beside her. At first, Brooklyn had expected it to be some sort of selfish change for his own
benefit, maybe even that he'd been blackmailed into it as she had. But the truth was much
more honest, Damian Wayne risked his life every day to defend this ancient and powerful
city for something as innocent as approval from a parental figure.

Brook wasn't sure if she would've dared to ask any other questions, but thankfully, the choice
was taken from her when she realized they were now nearing their destination.

Her and Damian quickly crouched on the roof outlooking the large domed building by the
shore that looked like a cross of the Pantheon of Rome and the Taj Mahal. The area around it
was fenced, no other building around its perimeter thanks to that radiation warning all across
the fencing every twenty feet outwards, almost like proactive rings to ward off trespassers.
There were no guards, no sign of movement from within...but there was a large truck that did
not seem to belong, too new to have been abandoned with the building itself.

When she'd pointed it out to Damian with a silent gloved hand, he merely nodded.

"I could go in for reconnaissance, come back here if I find anything worth looking into,"
Brook whispered, even when they were a good mile or two away from the nearest fence and
the buildings around them were long-since abandoned little shops.

Damian frowned beside her, not even flinching when a streak of lightning darted above them
in the sky like a cruel lightshow, nor by the thunder that followed which shook the very roof
they stood on.

A storm was coming.

"We have no clue what's inside, so we both go. We can cover more ground if we split up, you
take the east wing, I'll take the west"

Had it been something inconsequential, Brooklyn might have argued against him, but in this
case...his plan was not too bad. For all their distrust and hatred, neither knew what they were
walking into, and the two didn’t have the time to explore everything in one night either.

Though Brook knew slitting up was probably a bad call, albeit an instinctual one, they had no
other choice.

"Then we rendezvous in the main lobby, the floor plans we looked at on our ride here were
very clear about that space being the largest area to cover. We do that together"

Like her, Damian did not seem in the mood to argue, so he merely grunted in agreement.
Both teens turned on the walkie-talkies they'd bought at an unassuming drug store near the
subway exit, testing their functionality and praying the very large range promised on the
package was enough that they wouldn't go through a blind period.

Their phones had been left behind along with all their stuff for a reason, in case of being
discovered...nothing could be traced back to their families. Having Robin show up would not
be as suspicious since this was Batman's city...but a Stark or a Wayne...that would not do.
Not to mention, Brook was still afraid FRIDAY would report back to her dad on her comings
and goings. She had debated leaving her Stark watch behind because of it, but ultimately
choose safety over secrecy in that single regard. It lay hidden under the tight black sleeve of
her suit. Even if she'd only use it as a last resort, the tech was easily recognizable. At least,
unlike her phone, the watch could self-destruct on command and this way no one could link
her back to Tony if the worst were to happen.

Speaking of worst case scenarios.

"Did you tell your merry band of bats we'd be here? Because if they show up, I need to know
so I don't attack them by accident while we're in there"

Damian scoffed, "This is my mission, it's none of their business. Plus they are too busy
investigating leads on the Joker on the other side of town tonight. That will keep them
occupied until my father finds enough clues for a lead or they decide to call the search off for
tonight"

So in other words, they were on their own. He had no allies nearby and even if Brook called
SHIELD or her family with some excuse, none of them would be able to get far into
Batman’s territory anyways. Their sudden solitude was both convenient and terrifying.

When Brooklyn had been attacked on the way back to the manor, Happy had been able to call
for backup. When she visited the nightclub, she’d been quick to contact SHIELD to take care
of things. Tonight would be different, and despite being raised to handle operations alone,
something about not having that safety net to fall back on now made her nervous.

The only aid I have is my greatest nemesis, you couldn’t make that up…

Neither teen bothered with heartfelt goodbyes or wishes of luck, mostly because they were a
waste of time, but Brook was certain it was also because they didn't care enough about one
another to make the effort. If Damian Wayne were to live or die, she wouldn't care...right?

Keeping in mind that the night was slipping from her grasp, Brooklyn quickly took one of the
cable lines and used it to descend past the first gate. Since Damian's side of the building was
further off, he disappeared into the night towards the forested side of the pier to get there with
the ease of whatever Robin tools he had. Brook was the one who had to get crafty.

There were no guards or cameras, but that did not mean the place was defenseless. No place
harboring a criminal purpose was ever as such. So she looked out for traps, pressure plates,
even went as far as to check every fence she climbed for sparkling electricity.

Brook kept in the shadows, willing her steps to be near soundless, all of her Red Room and
SHIELD training used for one purpose today. Find the weapons.

Luckily, the trip into the building was successful and her hidden watch was somehow able to
confirm there was no radiation of any kind in this place. By the time she climbed through an
old broken window, the girl spared a glance behind her to see if she could spot the vigilante
outside...but Damian must already be inside his own wing.
Use of their walkie-talkies was only for emergencies from now on, they couldn't risk making
too much noise, but Brook still kept the thing close at hand, strapped beneath the tight waist
belt of her suit. Though maybe a call for help wouldn't be necessary...this place really did
look abandoned.

The room Brook had broken into must've been some sort of office back in the day, desks
were hidden under large foggy tarps and the wooden floors were dusty with no sign of
footprints other than her own. The walls were covered with massive bookshelves with crates
of documents that were equally as dusty and definitely not something detailing current
criminal movements.

She was starting to doubt her research right about now, wondering if her hacking and
assumptions had led them astray. If that was the case, Wayne would never let her live it
down.

In an effort to make the most of her time, Brooklyn pushed those doubts aside and went
room to room, one of Damian's daggers in hand, the one he'd reluctantly handed over when
she mentioned not having any weapons (aside from her watch). The mission had been
planned last minute and with all the weapons Agent Phill took away during her change of
homes, her choices were depleted.

The Stark still had one last resort weapon hidden, the alien-gun she'd taken from the
nightclub yesterday. It would not be very smart to let it be seen should someone attack, but if
it came down to it, she just might have to make it work. Brook would just have to be careful
not to kill anyone with it.

While slipping into another room as swiftly as a shadow, Brooklyn spared a glance down at
the knife in her hand, and the girl couldn't help but frown. It was a typical dagger of eastern
style. It was sleek, sharp, and engraved on the hilt was a small R branding it as Robin's
property. It was high quality all things concerned, but she expected nothing else from Bruce
Wayne's son.

It wasn’t a gift, it was a lend for safety. But it still ached her pride that her enemy had to
reluctantly supply her with a weapon, she still didn’t know how he’d convinced himself to do
it in the first place when he’d probably be the first to spit on her dead body should he ever
come across it.

Brook just hoped the demon found something more interesting than empty rooms, this was
getting tedious quickly.

By the time her side of the building was deemed clear of any suspicious activity or hidden
rooms, the ex-assassin was ready to let out a frustrated scream in the middle of the long yet
empty hallway that connects the two wings which she found herself in, a sound of annoyance
only ghosts might hear.

How could she have figured it out wrong? By all logical indications and patterns this had to
be the place. This compromise, the breaking of rules and trust, it had to mean something.
Her pitiful thoughts were suddenly halted by a deafening scream that echoed not just across
the hall, but perhaps across the entirety of the building. It was not a scream of frustration that
came out of her own mouth. It was an indication of something worse.

Without a second to waste, Brooklyn carefully rushed to its source, climbing up to the air
vents to avoid detection as she followed the sounds of pain and anger. They led her to the
main lobby, the one she and Damian were supposed to explore together. Logically, she
should've expected the Wayne would not listen to her, because he'd made it there before their
agreed time…and was currently paying the price of that idiotic decision.

From her line of sight up on the air vent’s gaps, Brooklyn had a perfect view of the large
space below. It was a massive space exactly in the middle of the building, its crowning jewel.
But unlike what she'd witnessed thus far, this place was cleaner, lit up by a few large
spotlights powered by various noisy generators across the room. She could almost feel the
heat coming off of them this high up, but at least she wasn't kneeling on the polished floor at
the center of their warm scrutiny the way Damian Wayne was.

His feet were bound by...what on Earth was that? It looked like glowing rope, of the same
cobalt blue shimmer as the weapon tucked into the back of her belt. Alien tech that was
causing him…pain.

She'd been right after all, though the realization did not bring forth the excitement she’d
expected.

She observed as Damian tried to cut through the odd restraints with the lone katana in hand,
but the material—whatever it was—would not break. Brooklyn was seriously considering
going down there and cursing him for triggering some sort of alarm, but she'd stayed put as
soon as she heard a booming maniacal laugh nearby.

It echoed across the walls of the large space, its pitch and intensity so unsettling it actually
managed to make a few of the hairs on her arms stand. Below, Damian's efforts to free
himself seized almost immediately, and he got into a kind of predatory stillness as his gaze
shifted to the entrance below a double sided staircase that the girl could not see past.

"My my, what do we have here? A little Robin has flown inside our cage!" the mysterious
male voice said, laughing as he did so like it was the funniest thing in the world. It almost
sounded like the man was insane…he had to be if he was laughing at someone being tied up.

Finally in her line of sight, two figures emerged from Brook's blind side and into the
glistening light of the large room.

The first was a man with white paint smeared on his face, a huge gagged red grin that reached
across the expanse of his cheeks. Even when Brook was not from Gotham, she wasn't stupid
enough not to know who that was. Everyone in the world could recognize the Joker...and the
woman by his side.

The infamous Harley Quinn donned the same pale make up as her partner and even when her
smile was not exaggerated as that of the Joker's, there was an uneasiness about her that
almost made the woman look more out of her mind. Her red and black jumpsuit that clung to
her body looked completely insane, especially with the white collar and wrist cuffs, but she
wore it as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and in a way, it suited her madness.

From above, Brook watched as the famous Harley Quinn danced around the empty space full
of crates along its edges as if she were circling Damian, who was still glaring at the Joker
with a visible snarl.

"It appears my quest for justice has led me right to you, and you might not be glad that it did,
you filthy clown" Damian said, voice lower and more menacing than she'd ever heard from
him.

Sure, the Joker was his father's enemy, and by proxy Robin’s, but Brook had never seen him
so riled up even when they'd engaged in their fight back in school. There was history between
them, enough that Damian’s current predicament was second in his eyes to the presence of
this villain before him.

Then Damian’s words from before came back to her like a train at full speed.

Because believe it or not, this is a personal matter of justice. Some of those weapons were
used recently back in Gotham, they resulted in my sister becoming seriously injured and I
have to make sure such an event won't happen again

This is my mission, it's none of their business. Plus they are too busy investigating leads on
the Joker on the other side of town tonight.

It was him…the Joker had hurt his sister. Just the Joker’s presence in the very place where
Gotham’s base for the weapons’ storage and distribution was enough for him to be linked to
the source of his sister’s ailment. But did that mean…it was him all along? Just as if the
universe felt the need to clear up the fog of confusion in her head, two dozen men and women
wearing distorted clown masks emerged behind the Joker...all carrying a glowing alien rifle
in their hands.

"You're in charge of this mess, you’re distributing all the alien weapons aren’t you?" Damian
cursed out, raising his katana away from the ropes at his feet and towards the smirking
criminal, "I swear, you will meet and end so cruel, the devil will weep"

The Joker merely laughed at the threat, pulling out something from his tattered red suit
jacket.

It was a crowbar, an odd choice of weapon though if rumors of his being mentally unstable
were correct, perhaps it was totally sane to him. The weapon was by no means new, and
amidst the dark color of its metal surface, Brook could see patches of darker bits could be
seen, as if he’d painted over imperfections.

Had Brooklyn not grown up in the Red Room where some spars could take hours to finalize,
she might’ve assumed it was a cheap paint. The reality was much crueler, even from above
she could tell it was dried blood. More specifically, dried blood of different times past.
"It will always amuse me how your dear old dad spends every breath of his life trying to save
everyone," the Joker said, stalking closer to Robin with weapon in hand, "but that's where the
true joke is, you see, he spends so much energy on others that he's never able to save his own
loved ones. Not dear little Jason, or the fiery Barbara Gordon...and now, as the punchline to
a decade’s old joke, it will be dear old Damian who's next"

Brooklyn's hand tightened around her borrowed dagger just as Damian's did around his own
weapon. In a quick and unexpected move, the teen below seemed to completely forget about
the binds around his ankles as he sprung into action, flipping over towards the cackling Joker
as guards quickly took defensive positions around him.

Damian...the league HAD centrally trained him well.

Even with the binds, Damian was able to jump around like a trained gymnast, using his
katanas to render the masked cronies into immobilized heaps on the ground, even when they
still laughed maniacally at the blood flowing out of their legs and arms. No deadly injuries,
but certainly aches strong enough to render them out of the fight.

Despite her having every right to doubt his honesty, it seemed like the Wayne had been
serious about his no-killing policy after all. Even at a disadvantage, not once did he facilitate
his situation by taking the lives of those more than willing to rob him of his own.

Brooklyn was restless to spring into action to help, but some part of her knew this was his
revenge, his battle to fight. He’d already managed to take down more than half of the
adversaries standing in his way after all.

He likely would've made it to the Joker, had the binds around him not begun to electrocute
him when he got close. Damian resisted at first, but the pain must’ve been monumental as he
finally fell to the ground on his knees with a frustrated grunt, one that only amplified as the
Joker's crowbar connected with Robin's arm…sending the teen to the floor without weapons
in hand.

Harley Quinn had made sure to gleefully kick them just far enough from reach, even when
Damian’s switching form tried to reach for them past the pain…they were just too far.

"You can fight if you'd like," the Joker said, "I so like it when you bat kids try to make a last
stand. But just so you know, since we're friends now, every attack towards me won't stop all
the weapons from leaving this facility as we speak. They will go to another base you will
never be able to find little Robin, well not that you would be able to anyways. When your
father comes finds your body, he will have lost a partner and missed the weapons as well"

Damian began trying to lift himself up despite the electricity running along his legs and the
blood seeping out of his arm from where the curved end of the crowbar had made contact.
She couldn't take her eyes away from his form, even when she’d just heard the weapons were
leaving. Brook could still stop them, head over to them and halt their getaway before they
ever made it past the confines of this place. It's what she’d come here to do after all.

But just as she was getting ready to crawl backwards into the vent to try and begin her search
elsewhere, Damian's scream halted her movements. It was like a cold wind spread across her
back, freezing her muscles and leaving her completely still.

Down below, Damian shouted, "You will find I'm not so easy to kill!"

Harley Quinn's laugh echoed loud enough that it too reached the distant vent, "Poor Bruce
will soon find himself without any kids, isn't that a shame? I wonder if that will kill him too,
the knowledge that he failed you all, don't you think so Puddin?"

Brooklyn crawled back just in time to see the criminal pair summon more masked men to
stand behind them, around a dozen…maybe two dozen by her count. The Joker looked like
he was riding a wave of ecstasy as he twirled his crowbar in hand, gazed locked on Robin
with twisted anticipation…the vigilante who was now kneeling before him as if despite the
pain from his injury and constant electrocution, he refused to be seen sprawled helpless
before an enemy. Damian had to know he couldn’t possibly fight them all on his own, that
this was the end. Yet he didn’t bother looking around for her…as if he knew not to expect
help from an enemy.

"Losing this one just might," Joker mused as he fixed the lapels of his battered red suit, like
he wanted to look his finest for what was to come, "I'll make sure to leave his young body
just a little more damaged than the last to keep the Batman awake for many nights to come"

Brooklyn was wasting precious time, for the good of hundreds upon thousands of possible
victims, she should go stop those weapons from leaving now. Damian was her nemesis, a
thorn on her back since day one, she should leave him to fight for his life.

But he could not, not anymore. If she left to stop the weapons, by the time she came back
here Damian may very well be dead. It should be an inconsequential sacrifice, the logical
choice Brook was sure Damian would choose if their roles were reversed.

Before the Avengers, Brook might've actually left without an ounce of remorse. But now,
leaving Damian to die, it felt...wrong. Yet she was keenly aware that if she managed to save
him, the Stark was dooming a country, possibly the world, to the mercy of those weapons for
whatever cruel purpose the villains had planned.

It suddenly became an impossible choice.

As a future Avenger, it WAS her job to save the populace, it should've been her main priority
especially when so many guards were down there, too many with alien weapons to stop on
her own. Even if she went to his rescue, there was no guarantee the two of them wouldn’t end
up dead.

Despite the unfavorable odds that should've had her turning around, the idiocy of her mind
spoke louder. With a silent curse in her mother tongue, Brooklyn opened the vent flap slowly
and decided right then and there, that against her better judgment…that she was going to save
Damian Wayne’s life, whatever it took.

Perhaps it would get her killed, but it was as if argument and danger of it all disappeared from
her mind and her enemy's safety was now the only thing that mattered, especially as the Joker
began making his way closer to Damian in lazy steps.
While the idiotic villain savored his guaranteed victory, Brooklyn's mind got to work,
examining her surroundings for advantages while another part of her brain worked on
mapping out all the entrances and exits of this place.

If by some miracle she was able to fend off all the attackers down below, she'd still have to
get through the miles of fences which Damian would surely not be able to climb without help
with that injured arm of his. If she was too busy fighting people as they fled, they would
certainly die.

Some part of Brooklyn that still clung to her assassin ways had another solution...one that
urged her to kill everyone, escape without trouble. Brook quickly shut that suggestion down,
that was no longer who she was, she now understood that fighting for another way out aside
from death was the only thing she could do. No matter the dire consequences.

Maybe she couldn't kill anyone, and perhaps there were too many masked individuals to fight
on her own, but that did not mean she couldn't slow them down...

Just as the plan formed in her mind, Brook looked down to see the Joker clutching Damian's
sharp jaw, lifting it up in a harsh hold as he mused cruelly, "You and your father never smile.
It's one of your many flaws, but if you ask nicely I can remedy that and leave a nice smile
like mine on your face for when the Bats finds you. Would you like that, my little bird?
Would you sing me a song of horrifying screams as I tear your flesh apart?"

Somehow, the image of that in her head was somehow more horrifying than pondering her
own demise.

The Stark moved with even more urgency as she reached out and held onto the pipe maze
above her head, lifting her body out of the vent with Damian's dagger stuck between her
teeth. By the time she had gathered her wits and decided to follow through with her idea, the
young Wayne below spit blood on the Joker's face.

"Do your worst, clown. I've felt pain far superior than that which your inexperienced mind
can enact. I'll see you on the other side when Todd finally obliterates you from the face of this
world like we should’ve done years ago," her nemesis said, not an ounce of fear in his heart,
not that Brook had expected any.

But it would seem his death would have to wait, even if it was a damper on his pretty
farewell speech.

As the Joker’s cackles echoed all the way up to where she balanced on the air duct’s entrance,
Brooklyn clutching one of the pipes running along the length of the wall with her life as she
unfastened the alien gun from its place resting on the back of her belt. The glowing splendor
of the weapon came to life as she held it, loaded and ready. It was with a smirk that did not
reach the sudden urgency of her mind that Brook pointed its end not at the enemies below,
but the pipe maze up above.

She'd studied the weapon last night amidst her research madness, knew its function thanks to
all the analytic evidence SHIELD had gathered on all confiscated weapons so far. This
weapon would not vaporize what it touched or set them aflame, but it would create a very
large explosion.

With a single blue laser shot, the roof above her made a loud creaking noise, gaining the
attention of everyone below as they witnessed the ground shaking and dust gravel falling atop
their heads. As Brook slid down the rusty pipe, and amidst her one-handed descent, she shot
the same spot once more, unable to stifle the smirk hidden by her hood as that part of the roof
began cascading down in between the Joker and his army.

In the time it took for everyone to get to safety from the falling debris (hence why she'd
waited a while to fire the second shot), Brook descended onto the marble floors, rushing to
the middle of the room over so she was face to face with the Joker and Harley Quinn…
standing between them and Robin. Both were wiping rubble away from their colorful hair,
but once they beheld her, the pair did not seem as frightened as she'd hoped. Brooklyn
realized they must've been truly insane if a fallen roof that almost crushed them alive did not
shake them off their game.

They were smiling at her, retreating slightly as if weary of her hooded form.

"Another bat kid, Mr. J?" Harley asked as the bells of her ridiculous hat began giggling while
she reached for a hammer that looked more like an enlarged version of the one used to play
whack-a-mole. Brook realized fairly quickly she did not want to get hit with that and risk her
bones turning into debris like the roof she’d helped collapse.

The Joker pushed back his wavy and greasy green locks, tilting his head sideways so much
she thought he might lose his balance. As he examined her, Brook did her best to keep his
eyes from seeing the face underneath the hood while simultaneously moving into a better
protective stance before Damian.

Gun away tucked back into the back of her belt, Brooklyn clutched the dagger in hand a little
harder, getting ready for whatever move those criminals would do. Thankfully, her plan had
worked so far, the Joker's cronies were screaming on the other side of the rubble between the
double staircases, unable to make it through even if they tried to climb around it.

"Who are you?" the Joker asked amusedly, shifting his crowbar slightly as if he truly did plan
to attack with that thing and nothing else.

Brook was still keenly aware of the fact that Damian was probably bleeding to death behind
her, so she did not deign with a response....she simply attacked. As quickly as her steady legs
could carry her, the Stark rushed at Gotham’s most famous criminal duo, only shifting her
trajectory at the very last second to slide under the Joke’s legs.

Once she was crouched behind them, the girl was quick to grab an old dusty chair from
nearby and threw it at the woman, who as expected, shattered it with her weapon. The
scattering of chair debris was enough for Brook to get close enough for a double-leg grapple
against Harley’s neck. Brooklyn easily twisted her body enough to send the crazed woman
down painfully on the floor, head first.
While the crazed woman was busy massaging the ache on her neck and back, Brooklyn didn't
hesitate to grab the woman's weapon, finding it surprisingly heavy to maneuver. But she had
no time for mistakes or weaknesses, not with the constant awareness that Damian was only
getting worse. Therefore, as kindly as Brook could, she whacked the Joker's partner
unconscious.

Instead of splattering her head like a watermelon, the woman was simply rendered
unconscious, a mercy she probably wasn’t worth.

With no time to breathe, Brooklyn was hyper aware that the Joker was now standing behind
her, likely moving to attack while she was distracted. The Stark let go of the useless wooden
weapon, countering the attack by vaulting off a nearby desk just in time to avoid a wrench to
the back.

The Joker's first mistake had been to take too long to kill Damian…his second had been to
use all his force on that swing. The marble cracked where she once stood, but it left him
vulnerable to Brook after she jumped over his body, ignoring as the table collapsed right as
she dismounted behind him. She quickly approached the Joker with a double leg grapple,
using her weight to throw the criminal to the ground next to his unconscious lover.

The clown did not grunt in pain, even as Brook took his crowbar and raised it above her head,
ready to swing it at his face in a moment's notice. The same attack he’d meant for Damian,
for her nemesis.

On the floor, the Joker chuckled maniacally again, leaning on his elbows, "You...oh, I like
you! A little shadow came to protect the baby bat! I must say I was not expecting anyone else
today when I heard Bats was on the other side of town, but I hope we can see much more of
each other in the future. That is, unless you plan to end it all here today?"

Brooklyn fought the urge to tell him just how much she ‘liked’ him with a deadly hit to the
head with the very crowbar he'd threatened Damian Wayne with. Instead, she lowered the
weapon, threw it on the ground forcefully. All the blood that was on it, what it would’ve
meant for Damian’s life, it's what fueled her to reach for the back of her belt and use the alien
gun to shoot it without even taking her eyes off the clown.

The blood-crusted crowbar was reduced to nothing more than dust between her and the Joker,
nestled in a smoking crater on the floor.

Making sure to keep her voice low and unrecognizable, Brooklyn warned, "This isn't over"
then used the back of her borrowed dagger to whack him across the head. The girl frowned at
the white paint coating the weapon, but didn't bother wiping it off once she heard the idiots
on the other side of the rubble were finally smart enough to start blasting it away with their
weapons.

Knowing she was pressed for time, the Stark quickly turned and rushed over to Damian, who
was sprawled on the ground, staring her way as if he'd seen a ghost. Brook didn’t bother
saying anything about what just happened as she tried to figure out how to get rid of the
bindings on his feet, flinching every time the rubble moved behind them.
All the SHIELD records on these weapons mentioned they used the same energy source, it
was the other components of the weapon that gave it different uses. These binds were no
different.

"Don't move," Brook commanded, reaching for the gun on her belt and lining it up with the
glowing constraints that were still electrocuting her nemesis.

"I happen to like my legs," Damian said between gritted teeth, "you get rid of them, I get rid
of you"

Brooklyn, despite being pressed for time, scoffed at his threat. Even when she'd just saved his
hide, Damian still had time and mind to insult her, though she was mildly amused to see his
pain hadn't messed with his typical cruelty. Maybe this would grant the Wayne a new sense of
appreciation for her, because she had read through the weapon files extensively, enough to
know only a similar energy source could negate the effects of his bindings. Had he been
alone, he likely would’ve kept using his blades to break free.

So Brook aimed with practiced precision, firing at the glowing chains and letting out a small
breath of relief when she noticed their brightness dimming to the point that she could take
them off.

Unfortunately, Damian's legs were still intact.

After pocketing her weapon, she examined his arm injury, not at all surprised to see he was
bleeding quite a bit. In fact, they were both currently atop a large puddle of his own blood.

Der’mo. Shit.

Thankfully, her mind was still working eighty miles an hour, not focusing on anything other
than the task before her as Brook shrugged off her belt, a gift from her sestra with the Black
Widow symbol engraved secretly on the inside. A symbol Nat was adamant about giving new
meaning to instead of wearing it as an homage to their old allegiances.

Surprisingly, Brooklyn didn't hesitate to quickly wrap the meaningful valuable around
Damian's injured arm to prevent further blood loss before hauling him to his feet despite his
complaints that he could get up on his own. Truth was, that proud bastard could barely stay
upright by himself. But instead of teasing her enemy, Brooklyn just ignored his pointed glares
as she securely wrapped an arm around his waist, and hauled his uninjured arm around her
shoulders.

Ok…now onto the hard part.

The explosions behind them had increased enough that Brook estimated they only had a few
minutes before they were the ones being blasted into hell. So she hauled Damian towards the
main entrance at the quickest pace she could muster with his still shaking legs, using one of
her occupied hands to blast the worn wooden door to smithereens with the alien gun.

Outside the rain had begun, arriving in full blast, and the thunder up above was beginning to
mix with the sounds of the rubble being blown away behind them to the point that Brook
wasn't sure which was which. All she could focus on was trying not to slip with the injured
body by her side. If she were grasping for comforting thoughts, she’d think that at least the
rain would wash off Damian’s blood from their trail and his body. It WAS doing that, but it
was also helping it seep into his and her clothes too.

Choosing a path lit by darkness, Brooklyn blasted holes through every fence they
encountered, and by the time she was shakily blasting the last one, the lobby they had
emerged from was full of searching lanterns, and the roar of engines filled the once empty
space.

"We need to go somewhere safe," Brook said absentmindedly, grunting with the effort to
keep Damian upright while keeping an eye out behind them as she ushered them forwards
towards the distant ghost city, “Maybe I can take you to the police, they keep the city safe
just like you guys right? We can report the Joker’s whereabouts while we’re at it…”

What she had really meant to say was, I need to take you to a hospital, but a bloody Brooklyn
Stark bringing in an injured Robin to a Gotham hospital would certainly turn some heads,
ridding you of your secret identity in the process. Any ideas?

Brook still remembered the massive building the size of the White House (ironic considering
it was as dark and gloomy as the rest of the gothic aesthetic of this city), that she’d seen
during their rooftop 'promenade' through Historic Gotham. She supposed that for the massive
amounts of crime in this city, the Gotham Police HAD to be that size.

Surprisingly, Damian's rain-splattered gaze on her own was one of reluctance.

"The GCPD haven’t trusted us since Jim Gordon died, and we shouldn’t trust them either, not
with the Joker’s fanatics all over the place. I'll guide us secretly through the city…I know a
place," he muttered, voice strained, likely due to the blood loss.

With too many people looking for them all over the enemy territory, Brooklyn did not argue,
she just hauled his body closer to her own, putting away both her weapons and his which
despite leaving them defenseless would help them go faster. All the while, she couldn’t help
but curse the heavy rainfall drenching them both.

More pressing was the impossible realization swirling in her head with as smooch vigor as
the lighting above. The unquestionable fact that she, a Stark, had just saved a Wayne’s life.
Willingly.

What has she just done…

 The Wayne Manor

Brooklyn POV-

"Where are we going exactly?"

Damian didn’t answer her question, he just gave mild instructions on which empty alleys to
go through, what buildings to evade, and when to stop as routine police officers neared while
in their patrols. Thankfully, the few people that had seen two hooded figures passing by did
not approach them, if anything they retreated quickly like rats on a sewer.

It was like they could smell danger. Good for them.

The walk was by no means easy, but they didn’t stumble upon any masked clowns looking
for them. Due to the probability that anyone not wearing a clown mask could be working for
the Joker, Damian led them through the most abandoned places in the city. They were no
more than two shadows passing by undetected.

Maybe it was because Brooklyn knew the Wayne was losing more and more blood each
minute that she did not push to know where their destination was. After about eighteen
blocks in the confines of New Gotham’s ‘safety’, just as the darkness of the night sky began
to dim ever so slightly...they made a surprising turn to a lonely road. That particular lone
gravel road was surrounded by a thick line of trees on both sides, with the occasional
streetlight every few feet to illuminate their wet bodies. There was no sign indicating their
nearest destination, only a street name...Mountain Drive.

As they walked in silence, Brook could only focus on the ever growing weight of the Wayne
across her shoulders. He was leaning heavily onto her now, and with each step, the katanas on
his back would brush against her back rather painfully. But she kept going despite every
discomfort, hoping that Damian was invested enough in his well being to know where he was
leading them.

Brook had expected more silence until the next set of instructions, but in an unexpected turn
of events, Damian said softly, "I saw you up on that vent. Why didn't you leave!? Why didn't
you…go stop the weapons instead? You foolish girl"

Brooklyn fought the urge to drop him on the gravel and leave his ungrateful ass for dead,
instead choosing to simply scoff at his ridiculous comment. Though it was slightly unnerving
that he’d seen her from the very beginning, had likely seen her doubt too.

"A thank you would suffice"

Damian glared at her, his masked face and her hooded one so close together that she had to
back away from him slightly, at the unfortunate expense of a slight pain running through his
injured shoulder.
In all honesty, Brook wasn't as upset about the ordeal anymore. The entirety of their nerve
wracking retreat, she'd actually been praising herself. At first, she'd considered yelling at him
for not only giving up their cover by getting caught, but also by alerting the enemy enough
that the Joker managed to get away with the weapons. But then she realized...she'd done the
right thing, she’d done what a hero would've done.

Brook had saved her enemy, the nemesis that she despised above all. If she could save
Damian, did that mean that she could be willing to save anyone now? A small step in the
right direction, but it was a shame she couldn't brag about it to her dad. If he knew she was
here, what she’d done and who she was with, Brooklyn would never again see anything more
than the confines of the Compound for the rest of her life.

Their weary walk went on for a few more minutes, at which point the rain had finally
lessened, but the sense of danger and urgency had not. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until they
came across a large gate with pointed spikes on its ends and two golden letters on each door,
cutting the road's path.

It was the letter W that stood proud above her, both letters the size of tires. It took a second to
work out what these gates signified. This wasn’t an emergency hideout nor a common
business to lay low in, the innocent letters had to stand for the Wayne family.

This was the demon's home.

Brooklyn had no time to debate the issues of what her being in such a place entailed as
Damian weakly ordered her to go to the intercom. Though his weight was starting to become
a near impossible burden, Brook hauled the two over to the side pillar of the gates decorated
with delicate daisies on the ground below. Daisies that much like Brooklyn’s confidence, had
caved in on themselves. On the black marble surface, the machine cracked a few times until
someone answered, a male voice that sounded bored yet ancient in some way amidst a clear
English accent.

"Wayne Residence," the man announced, sending a shiver down Brooklyn’s spine. For all her
past betrayals to her family today, standing before this gate had to be amongst the worst.

She just had to leave Damian here, leave, and pretend she didn’t know where this place was if
her otets ever asked. It was like dropping off a package, a bleeding one at that, and her
treachery for tonight could end.

Damian didn't wait for Brook to find a way to articulate what was happening, because he
leaned closer and said,"It's me Pennyworth, open the gates now"

The voice paused for a second, then the large gates opened before them as the man said,
"Welcome back, Master Damian"

Master? The Stark fought the instinct to smirk at the words, of course Damian would have his
servants address him as such, but it was amusing to hear it nonetheless after the troublesome
mission they’d just undertaken.
Brooklyn might've laughed about it to his face regardless, teased a little…but suddenly the
body by her side went limp, and with the rising rain coating both their 'water-proof' suits, her
nemesis slid right to the gravel road with a loud thud. Despite herself, Brook quickly knelt
down by his fallen form, cradling his head to make sure it wasn't injured while throwing a
string of Russian curses out into the world.

His head was not cracked open by any means, he was just unconscious, likely from the blood
loss. Still, she followed what she'd come to know as 'SHIELD First Response Protocol' and
checked his breathing, pulse, and injury. Breathing and pulse were weak, but they were there.
Good thing too, she very much did not feel like giving Damian Wayne mouth to mouth.

But his bleeding had not improved at all. Even with her belt keeping pressure on the wound,
Damian had lost too much blood from how deep the injury went, and Brook feared an
infection might take place considering that crowbar had been one of the dirtiest tools she’d
ever seen. It took a second to realize that despite her calm exterior, her heart was pulsing far
quicker than usual…all because Damian Wayne’s life was in her hands.

Brook tried to wake him, but no matter how much she shouted his name, or gently slapped
his cheeks...Damian was out cold. She could try to reach the coms, but in the time it would
take the servants to make it out here and then go back, too much time would be wasted. Time
Damian did not have.

For the first time since Damian’s life had been in peril, Brook did not linger on his past
cruelties, their unwavering hatred for one another, not even the fact that she was walking into
the heart of enemy territory. The thought of her nemesis taking his last breaths out in this
lonely pathway right before his home summoned whatever dregs of enemy she had left, and
maybe it was the adrenaline, but Brooklyn didn’t feel an ounce of that previous exhaustion as
she got to work.

"I'm not gonna let you die, you bastard. Not after I carried you all the way here..." she
whispered amidst shaky breaths.

With another curse in her mother tongue, Brooklyn set an arm around the back of his neck
and the other behind his knees. Thanks to her training these past few weeks, the Stark had
enough strength to carry the Wayne with little trouble, it was the elements that became a
visible hurdle. Since the cursed rain picked up again, it was becoming hard to see anything
before her other than the distant and massive structure that looked like a dark shadow
amongst fog. But Brook trudged on regardless, at some point stopping only to place her
removable hood atop Damian's injury to further stop the blood loss. Now her auburn hair was
at the mercy of the violent rain, even as masses of water droplets settled on her eyelashes,
obscuring her vision further, she moved forward stubbornly along the pebbled path.

She was headed straight to the Wayne household, which the closer she moved towards, made
her think it was actually a castle of sorts. Glazing at the body between her arms that she
subconsciously tucked a bit closer to her body to keep the insistent rain from his face, Brook
couldn't help but wonder what Damian’s home would be like. She imagined a huge mansion,
lavish with riches, thousands of servants, but with a touch of darkness Bruce and Damian
carried around them.
When Brook finally caught sight of the building thanks to a cluster of lightning that lit up the
dark skies in a frightening display as if the sky was breaking apart, she realized she wasn't far
off. The mansion WAS huge, standing before a large garden of roses in a plethora of
symmetrical patterns like the Palace of Versailles. The actual building resembled something
less cherry, a mammoth structure out of a Frankenstein movie. It was dark, domineering, and
with thunder and lighting decorating its background like a warning.

She could see the looming gates far on the sides of the building and gardens, it was likely that
the Waynes were in possession of the forests around the area…in fact, since they made a turn
onto the lonely road, Brooklyn may have been in Wayne territory already.

It wasn't until she made it to the garden surrounded by beds of roses whose scent was
somehow magnified by the rain, that the Stark felt the body cradled in her arms begin to stir.
Brook quickly knelt to remove his domino mask, and when Damian opened his green eyes as
she stood and the first thing he saw was her, understandably, he freaked out.

"Don't move you spaz, or I'll drop you amongst the thorns so your injuries will worsen,"
Brook said between pants, trying not to show or even process the relief she felt at his being
awake. It's why she’d been directing herself with her surroundings in the first place, to avoid
fussing over his unresponsive state.

Damian did stop his shifting around trying to break free, but fastened his good arm behind
her neck for further support as he too looked at the surroundings with recognition. Despite his
voice being weak, he still had the nerve to whisper with a drop of his usual venom, "I don't
like to be touched, Stark. Much less being carried so indecently"

Brooklyn couldn’t help it this time, despite her rising worry, she laughed at his seriousness.
He'd likely rather die on the floor than be carried by her, which is why she teased, "Don't
worry, my bride, we're almost at your haunted mansion"

Domino mask off, she could feel Damian's green eyes staring intently into her own with a
weakened version of his usual glares, but Brook tried to pay little mind to them as she
continued on towards the many onyx-stone stairs leading to the front door.

Maybe it was the ache of her legs, or perhaps wanting to find a flaw in her nemesis’ home,
but she couldn’t help but wonder where the servants were. Why weren’t they rushing to greet
their master?

Brook wasn't so sure she could make it up all the steps ahead of her, not with this idiot
cradled close to her. His body sent shivers across her body like it recognized the wrongness
of having a Wayne this close. Perhaps Brooklyn would have to burn her suit after this, lest it
remind her of this rare moment of kindness in the future. Then again, she hadn’t found it in
herself to burn the red dress from the gala as her dad has suggested.

Just as she was about to attempt the first step, Brooklyn felt Damian's hand on her back as if
he were trying to clutch it for support, but to her horror, his touch paused suddenly. It froze,
then traced the scars on her back, the ones her thin body suit could not conceal against his
touches.
Brook's own halt only encouraged Damian to follow the awful long whip lashes across her
back. The ones carved so deeply due to their improper healing during her childhood, most
left untreated as an additional punishment and test of her strength. When he finished tracing
that particularly long wound, he moved on to another…then another.

Damian always paused for a few seconds when he inevitably found another bit of caved-in
scarred tissue. She could tell he knew how deep they were, that there were many, each worse
than the last. In her paralyzed moment of fear, Damian was also able to feel some of the other
injuries coating her back, like circular bullet wounds that had not healed beautifully, knife
scars that served as the smallest of her wounds...he was tracing them all.

Brooklyn considered dropping him entirely so he’d stop this mortifying ordeal, but instead,
used the hand she had around his neck to briefly swat his away harshly, a move that must've
hurt his injured arm if she'd heard that hiss of pain correctly. But there was such a panic in the
Stark's mind that she hadn’t thought of the consequences, not when out of all people, Damian
now knew one of her best kept secrets. Her greatest show of weakness.

Prior to this unfortunate day, only Bruce Banner and her sestra had known of their existence,
and that was already too many people in Brook's opinion.

The girl refused to look Damian in the eye as she quickly made her way up the cobblestone
stairs despite the slight discomfort of the alien-weapon injury on her stomach from the attack
on the Compound not long ago. It could scream and burn for all she cared, but Brook would
make it up those stairs and get Damian away from her body before he could see just how
many more injuries there were scattered across the expanse of her skin.

She would not deal with his teasing, or his laughter, well...not for this.

When she finally stood before the gigantic dark oak doors with the number 1007 beside them,
Brooklyn could've wept in relief, especially when one of the doors began to open with a loud
creak like in the horror movies Sam loved so much. It was then that Damian began stirring in
her arms again, clearly wanting to be put down after staying still the entire walk up the stairs.

If only to keep his hands from wandering on her back again, she obliged, but kept a firm grip
beneath Damian's arms to keep him upright. Not once did the Stark glance his way, she didn’t
want to see what emotions lay on his face. Not the pain from his own injury, nor the teasing
for her own.

The left door opened with a hint of the warm air within seeping outwards near the two teens,
revealing a man in an expensive black suit with a perfectly arranged bowtie, neatly combed
white hair, and an old face that was impassive up until he locked eyes with Damian.

"Welcome back Master Damian. You arrived past curfew as is your preference, but to your
luck, no one has returned aside from Mistress Stephanie who is busy tending to Mistress
Barbara...", the man's stoic ramblings paused when he noticed the gloved hand around
Damian's body. Then his gaze turned to her own, previously passive, yet fond, eyes widening
as the old man relented a step inside.

"You..." the servant paused, "You've brought a girl home Master Damian? An actual girl..."
Brooklyn's cheeks heated despite the cold at the statement, but she merely reached out and
moved Damian's wet cape enough for the man to see the injury on Damian's body. That man's
shock shifted into something caring as he quickly moved outside to help Brook usher a stoic
Damian inside with their support.

The old man didn’t care that they were both soaking wet, leaving a trail of water as they
passed, his softening eyes lingered on Damian’s body searching for injuries as they stepped
into the warmth of the Wayne Manor. That servant, who Robin addressed as Pennyworth,
guided them across the large home which was as lavish as Brook had expected, but somehow
colder and more abandoned-like than she'd bargained for. She likely would've inspected her
surroundings better, marked entrances and exits, but Pennyworth's many questions for his
master’s condition were enough of a distraction.

After ascending another set of steps, making their way down an empty hall, and arriving
inside a large bedroom with little to no personalized items, Pennyworth asked Brooklyn for
help on setting Damian on the bed while he gathered supplies to tend to the injuries. There
was something about the man, a kind of authoritative presence like Aunt May's and her
mom's that sent the teen to do just that with no nasty comment shot his way.

Being ordered around by a Wayne servant, that was a new kind of low for her.

Still, she fought the urge to dump Damian unceremoniously on the four-posted bed with
pushed back curtains of the softest silk. Instead, Brooklyn tried to be as gentle as possible as
she lowered her enemy on the scarlet bedsheets, doing her best not to trip on the large area-
rug beneath her feet. All the while keeping her gaze away from his own.

Instead she kept her brown eyes locked on the fancy carpet, noting its elegant swirls and
designs while the rain she'd brought along dampened the poor thing.

Pennyworth was quick to return, and for whatever reason—maybe exhaustion from the
events of the night—she helped the servant stitch Damian up despite her enemy’s complaints
that he was fine and didn’t need help.

The servant didn’t seem amused by Damian's complaining, or the Robin suit he bore. He
worked methodically but with care she was not used to seeing in a healer. The few times
she'd needed one back at the Compound, she’d been unconscious to note their way of
working, but back in the Red Room, those meant to heal the very few injuries Ivan allowed
patched up could be considered just as cruel as their master.

While Brooklyn came back to the bedside with a bowl of clean water, the old man actually
thanked her as he set up some blood bags on a hospital hanger.

"He's lost too much blood. Unfortunately, I don't think his earlier bloodlust-like attitude will
atone for that" the man said, almost causing a smile to break out from Brook's passive
expression. Regardless of the joke, Brook did not dare to show any emotion other than mild
distaste. She was in enemy territory after all. This man was an enemy servant, and the bowl
on her hands contained enemy water.
Still, his kindness intrigued her. More than that, his knowledge of Wayne secrets puzzled her
even more. Damian wasn’t trying to hide his secret identity from this man…the servant she’d
seen in the Manor.

"Where are the rest of the servants? Shouldn't they be here helping?" she found herself
asking.

The old man smiled as he cut a bit more of the Robin suit fabric with special scissors to better
tend to a side-wound, "I am the sum total"

Only one servant? That was odd, she had no doubt that as one of the three most successful
companies in the world, as a founding family of Gotham (per her research), they could
certainly afford more.

How...surprisingly humble?

Pennyworth smiled at her confusion, "Nevertheless, I would like to know why Master
Damian showed up bleeding at two in the morning. Unfortunately, I can’t say I'm surprised,
but I do wonder why you're the one who brought him in Miss Stark"

Miss Stark....of course he knew who she was. She'd sacrificed her hood to keep Damian’s
wound intact, and this servant worked for the Waynes. Why the man wasn't kicking her out to
the curb was as much a mystery as Damian's willing, yet brief, explanation of the events of
tonight.

As soon as the Joker was mentioned, the servant’s stitching work had stopped for a few
seconds. From what Brook could see from her place standing beside him, Pennyworth
seemed...afraid? Much like the paralyzing horror Brooklyn had felt today at the entrance of
the enemy Manor. By the end of the recounted story, Damian gave the servant a warning not
to say a thing to anyone.

The man obliged, halfheartedly, keeping a hand beside his master’s as if he knew that's all the
touch he’d be allowed…like it was Pennyworth’s own way of ‘touching’ Damian for
comfort.

"You saved his life," Pennyworth said suddenly as he turned towards Brook, old eyes smiling
as he beheld her still from leaning on one of the bed posts by the bed. His gaze, however
foreign, was kind.

"I wouldn't say that," Brook countered, "It was more like I prevented him from bleeding to
death at the expense of my suit. Plus my history grade is now in tandem with his, if the
Wayne died, then I'd have to do more work"

Like hell she'd ever admit to saving a Wayne, still Pennyworth sent her a gentle smile with no
prejudice or malice as she'd expected from someone in the Wayne Mansion. For a second, she
almost thought he’d stand up and embrace her.

"You still have my thanks. We've almost lost one kid recently to the Joker's crowbar, Mistress
Brooklyn. It’s a relief such an unfortunate event did not repeat itself tonight. For that, you
may call me Alfred, if you prefer"

Mistress!? She was Miss Stark not half an hour ago, was her bringing Damian here that big a
deal? Both teens were certainly keen on making sure it wasn’t.

Damian, seemingly unhappy with the easy flow of compliments, scoffed at both of those that
lingered on the side of the bed. The sound of his usual self was enough that she finally dared
look into his eyes, only to see his shirtless, injured form, already staring back at her with the
usual disdain despite the events of tonight.

It was comforting. Nice to know some things never changed. Death. Taxes. Damian Wayne.

Alfred frowned at his master's behavior like a scornful parent, but reluctantly set out to get
some bandages after shooting a warning towards Damian to behave himself. The teen just
rolled his green eyes, but sunk further into the large bed with defeat.

Once alone, the first thing Damian said was predictably an accusation, "You do realize that
amidst all this unwarranted praise you’re receiving, that you let the Joker and the weapons
get away. Don't think you're all high and mighty just because you kept me from dying"

By that simple sentence, Brooklyn's anger returned in full force, only lessened by the fact that
this idiot had no clue how wrong he was. The fact that he was wrong kept her composure in
place.

Reaching into the wet sleeve of her suit, she pulled out a small item between her fingers from
a secret pocket within the edges of her sleeves. It was small enough to fit within the tip of a
finger. By glance alone, it looked like nothing special, nothing easily identifiable unless you
had the rigorous training of a spy to identify it.

"They didn't get away," she said all too smugly, "You clearly don't know how Red Room
training works. It's thorough, its efficient, and we don't settle for large compromises"

When Damian eyed the object with confusion. Brooklyn sighed tiredly, it was too bad the
League didn’t train spies, but it was a good thing Brook had spent many of her paychecks on
useful gadgets like these for emergencies. Even better than she’d thought to stuff them along
the hidden pockets of her suit.

"I could've blown off more of the roof to keep the Joker and Harley from you, to facilitate our
escape. But I fought them to get close enough to place these on them, let them get away on
purpose"

The Wayne frowned and sarcastically muttered, "You stuck a grain of rice on them? Well, at
least they'll have something small to eat when they use those weapons to kill hundreds of
civilians"

Brooklyn, carefully twirled the small seed sized object on her palm.

"It's a standard-issue adhesion RFID tag. In less than a day, I'll be able to use those small
trackers to find their frequency and tag the locations of those idiots," she clarified, watching
as Damian's eyes went wide for a few seconds before he shrugged it off as if it wasn't
incredibly smart last-minute planning on her part.

It was a habit, the tagging of suspects. Her tech was old school, and didn't even use satellites,
hence the need for searching through radio waves, but the tag would keep from being traced
back to Brook that way. It was a skill she was glad to have been taught in the Red Room,
probably one of the few non-deadly techniques Brook could actually use without remorse
nowadays.

"You didn't let them get away," Damian slowly clarified, "You just let them think that so they
could lead you to their new hideout"

"Well, I guess you're not as stupid as I give you credit for," Brook mumbled back.

Her words, though meant to be sarcastic, held a spark of hidden respect for one reason and
one reason only. He'd singlehandedly taken out the majority of the Joker’s servants rather
impressively back at the water plant before the reinforcements arrived. He'd also withstood
the pain of his constant electrocution and arm injury better than she'd expected, it's what had
allowed them to make it back here without her having to actually carry him the entire way.

As a former assassin, it was instinct to recognize strength and admire it. Not that she'd ever
praise him out loud, but the matter of all the pain he’d withstood made Brook wonder what
kind of injuries the teen before her had received in the past to not fuss over his injury today.

When Brooklyn's traitorous eyes began scanning his chiseled bare chest full of healed
injuries not unlike her own, Brooklyn quickly made her way to the massive windows on the
right side of the room that took up almost the entire wall. She kept herself busy by examining
the backyard that resembled more of a forest. Much like the old french stiles in the front yard,
the yard nearest to the house was filled with an array of giant bushes trimmed to look like
various animals of all kinds, like a frozen zoo.

Smeshnoy. Ridiculous.

The rest of the yard was filled with distant pools, tennis courts, planes of grass with the
occasional tree in which one could lay on a lazy spring afternoon. There were basketball
courts, running tracks, and even a glass-domed greenhouse attached to the left side of the
home. Past the curtains of pouring rain, one could even spot what looked to be a cemetery
near the edges of where the forest began. The luxury of it all did not amaze her, nor did it
upset her, but it gave Brook something to focus on, even as she felt Damian's cold stare
honed on her still form.

She had no doubt he had a thousand things to say to her, all of which she hoped had nothing
to do with the scars on her back. Pennyworth had just healed him, it would be a shame if she
ruined all of the servant’s careful work as she plummeted Damian to death after he made a
comment on her being weak.

Thankfully, by the time the door to the room had opened, Brooklyn was intent on telling
Pennyworth that she needed to head back home before the rain picked up again. The longer
she stayed in this room—in this Manor—the more chance Damian had to question her not
just on her actions today but the injuries on her back and the story behind them.

When the red-head turned around, she was not met with Pennyworth's kind smile and
withering body. Where he should've stood before the opened doors were some familiar faces
that despite being known were still considered strangers.

Unlike the last time she'd seen the older Wayne siblings, they were not wearing fine suits this
time around. Somehow, amidst all the finery of this home, she’d almost expected them to
adapt such attire for everyday use.

If she recalled correctly, the eldest was named Richard, he was the one wearing the infamous
Nightwing suit with a light blue bird crest across his chest that must’ve been an homage to
Batman’s own logo. The suit itself unabashedly hugged his figure just as Brook had seen on
Youtube, his eyes hidden behind a domino mask much like the one now resting on Damian's
nightstand.

Though Damian had practically confirmed her suspicions on the secret identities of the rest of
the Bat-team, it still stunned her a little to see the vigilante in person.

The man beside him, the one she recognized from the gala as Tim, was wearing a rolled up
white dress shirt and dress pants that could’ve passed as formal wear from a far. She
supposed that for a man who helped run Wayne Enterprises since his youth, those wrinkled
clothes were a hero suit of their own.

Both had weapons resting lazily on their hands, as if it was instinct to draw them upon
beholding a stranger in their home without them realizing it, but it was the other man in the
room that Brooklyn immediately became truly concerned with. The one with the motorbike-
like crimson helmet resting between his hip and arm. That must be the famous Red Hood,
famed Gotham vigilante on a good day and mass murderer on all the bad ones…he was the
one Fury and Adonis discouraged as a role model from early on.

That one he didn’t recognize, he hadn’t been at the gala. Brook figured he must be one of
Bruce Wayne's secret adopted children, and as of right now, he was the first the Stark’s
instincts immediately classified as a threat. His eyes were cold and tired with a faint scar
running along the flesh near one of them, his muscular body that was much more enhanced
than the others was enough of a signal that he could likely snap her neck easily
singlehandedly. The M1911 pistols on both hands were clearly loaded, but they were not
pointed her way until Red Hood beheld Damian's injured body laying on the bed…the
remains of his cape and the upper parts of his bloody suit that had been discarded on the floor
to treat the injury in clear view.

Red Hood's blue eyes shifted onto her then, face moving closer to the light in the room that
Brooklyn could the dark hair that might’ve been the same shade as his brothers were it not
for the bits of red dye on its ends, as if he'd once dyed it that bright color but thought better of
it this time around. Now it seemed his latest questionable fashion choice was a streak of
bone-white hair that curled atop his forehead.
But what mattered most now was not the differences and similarities between adopted
siblings, but rather the guns pointing towards her across the room, especially as the Red
Hood said, in a voice deep and commanding like Bruce Wayne's, "What the hell did you do
to him, Stark? You'll pay for this"

It was then that Brook realized this must look more incriminating than she bothered to
consider. The Stark hadn’t been expecting a warm welcome especially after coming here
uninvited, but the gun pointed at her head certainly was a new degree of hospitality.

The two brothers by Red Hood’s side quickly got into defensive stands of their own once
they assumed the belief this was her doing, but neither looked as determined to attack as 'Red
Hood Wayne' did.

In a matter of seconds, Red Hood’s leather jacket flapped back with the speed of his
approach, Brooklyn barely had time to roll over to a nearby desk before the gun shots
shattered the windows that had once stood behind the Stark.

This is what she got for trying to be a hero, doing the right thing and saving her enemy! Now
she was being shot at after barely escaping the approach of a thousand goons with clown
masks. She noted they were "armor piercing" nonlethal rounds, rubber bullets, but they could
still kill people if used right! Maybe Brook had a permanent ‘shoot me’ sign on her back or
something of the sort.

But if Waynes wanted a fight, then a fight they would get.

Despite the shouts in the room from the other two brothers discouraging this kind of
approach, the so-called Jason stopped only halted his firing to no doubt stalk towards her.
Before he could point one of his guns to her side of the desk, Brook scurried under it,
grabbing a nearby pillow and throwing it his way all the while making sure to keep an eye on
the brothers and the women she hadn’t noticed from further behind the door that remained
frozen in shock.

There had to be seven Waynes in her vicinity now, six of which were in a condition to fight.
Not the best odds she’d faced, especially after the exhaustion of her walk over here.

Jason easily dodged her distraction, punching the pillow to the side, but he did not fare so
well when she jumped over the desk and hooked her legs around his waist, shifting her body
back enough to twist him onto the ground. Even with his massively muscled body, the lock
went by smoothly, if anything his weight would make the incoming impact on the ground all
the more painful for him. Having seen many of Red Hood’s fights on Youtube, Brooklyn had
noticed his left foot coordination was not as perfect as his right. It also helped that the idiot
had been holding back earlier, a foolish mistake to make before a startled Black Widow.

When the pair descended down onto the rug on the floor, one of many conveniently placed
riches in the room, Brooklyn used the shock of their descent to knock the weapons from Red
Hood's hands, then jabbed her elbow on the tender part between his neck and shoulders to
further incapacitate him. The attack cost her, because the Wayne was able to land a punch on
her stomach, just where her old injury from the attack of the Compound was still healing.
When her body met the floor with Jason's out of the rug’s reach, she tried not to grimace at
the blooming pain in her side, instead taking the opportunity to shatter one of his guns
painfully against her leg.

The two jagged sharp ends of the gun now in her hands were quickly stabbed where the
Wayne lay, but not on his flesh, Brook was still considerate enough of her change of lifestyle
to jab them onto the loose shoulder blades of his leather jacket. The force of which was
enough to embed the metal deep, pinning the enemy down through the wooden floor.

The move force she’d used was painful, but Brook ignored the aches only to jab her elbow on
Red Hood’s stomach harshly, leaving the man gasping for breath beneath her. As the Stark
rolled over to the side, she noticed the others by the door were slowly making their way over,
hands on their weapons more fiercely. If they’d been weary of what ‘she’ had done to
Damian, they were more intent to attack now that another of their brother’s lay immobilized
before their eyes.

The alien gun remained safely tucked in a pocket on the back of her suit. Brooklyn didn’t
want to use it anymore than she already had today, but she’d keep it in mind just in case
things got out of hand. Not to kill, but to create a diversion for a stealthy escape.

Now that everyone had moved into the room, the teen had a better sight of the two women
standing by the Wayne brothers. They wore vigilante suits as well, the blonde a back and
purple suit with the Batman symbol on it and matching cape, the shorter one with shoulder
length hair dark as night with black suit much like Brooklyn's in terms of color and
simplicity, but hers had that bat symbol as well…plus a bat-like mask that obscured her face
eerily.

Four against one. The bat-child missing must be the injured sister Damian had mentioned,
which at least meant Brook had one less enemy to battle, but the sight of all the weapons
pointed her way did make the chances of success an alarming disadvantage.

One brandished glowing escrima sticks, the other man and the blonde with a retractable bo
staffs, and the short woman had no specific weapon, but the way she angled her body
expertly made Brooklyn think that perhaps SHE was the weapon restrained into a mortal
body.

Just how many children could one person adopt!?, Brook couldn’t help but curse mentally as
she moved to crouch atop the desk, ready to pounce, How many more ridiculously dressed
children were waiting to pounce in the shadows?

These were the sidekicks she'd seen on YouTube, but Bruce could be harboring more secret
vigilantes beyond this room, plus whatever additional security the home of Gotham’s most
controversial vigilante had in store.

Yes, most of the odds were not in Brook's favor, but the Wayne’s worry and anger could be
used against them. She'd noted these vigilantes fighting styles last night as she unknowingly
stalked the Wayne family in their bat personas. Her assassin mind-set had archived their
strengths and weaknesses without her even needing to make a conscious effort of it.
Even better, the men and women before her may be skilled in the art of battle, but they had
never seen Brooklyn fight which was a huge advantage on her part. That element of surprise
would only work this once, so it would be best if she didn’t waste the golden opportunity of
success. These Waynes were clearly well trained and had a few more years of experience than
Brook.

Let them try to attack, she'd show them just what a Stark was made out of.

Not a Red Room assassin...a Stark.

As soon as Nightwing rushed her way, she knew he would be a difficult opponent. From her
observations, he was well versed in acrobatics that were embedded into his defense and
offense. Unfortunately for Richard Grayson, the Red Room had been known for that kind of
strategy, honed to perfection with years of ballet.

So when his leg stretched out high to kick her crouching form, Brooklyn grabbed onto his
muscled leg and jumped down with it to throw it against the nearby bedpost. While that
Wayne fell with a grunt of pain cradling the soft skin on his calf she’d strategically targeted,
Brooklyn turning to charge at the incoming Waynes with Damian's dagger in hand.

"STOP!"

Raw command echoed across the room. Brooklyn stopped her running to see a horrified
Alfred by the door with forgotten bandages now laying at his feet along with a silver tray she
hadn’t heard fall. But the old man hadn't been the one that yelled out the command…that
voice had been Damian's.

When she turned to see him, the emerald-eyed teen was glaring holes at his siblings from
where they now surrounded Brooklyn before the end of the bed, a stare so intense that had
them dropping their weapons immediately.

By the open door, Alfred sighed, sending Brook an apologetic close-lipped smile as he
moved over to tend to his youngest master after a swift command to the fallen Red Hood
about being responsible for fixing the shattered windows later. It seemed that with Alfred
around, no one was willing to fight. The siblings still had defensive stands in a semi-circle
before Brook and the bed, ready to defend. Yet the shortest of the lot, the one dressed in all
black, was the first to address Damian and inquire after an explanation.

The way she stood...it didn’t take a genius to note she too was an assassin, and by the looks
of it, might even be from the League. Her mannerisms were similar to Damian's after all.

Is that where Bruce Wayne handpicked his progeny?

When all Damian did was glare at his siblings as his arm was carefully bandaged by the
servant, the crowd turned their expectant stares towards Brook. The concern that shifted onto
weariness was enough for Brook to know they still didn’t like her one bit, which is probably
why she took great pleasure in sauntering over to the chair beside Pennyworth's by the side
bed. Knowing they wouldn’t dare raise a weapon before the old man, she combed her wet
hair back and shot them all a taunting smirk.
By the looks of it, it seemed Jason Wayne was still in the mood for a fight, though he looked
rather pathetic with two long gashes along the fabric of his jacket. Despite his almost
palpable anger, he remained beside his siblings, shooting her a silent middle finger when
Alfred wasn’t looking.

"Well, Stark. Aren't you going to explain what’s happening here or should we just lock you
up somewhere to ensure you’re not a danger to us?" Nightwing asked, hand on his hip.

"Relax, I can assure you it wasn't me who did that to your brother this time," Brook said
casually, but she still kept her grip strong on the dagger in hand. Her movement caught the
attention of the others, eyes wide as they turned to their brother.

"You told her about us, even gave one of your daggers!?" the blonde female questioned, at
last taking off her mask, "Are you out of your mind Damian!?"

Before her nemesis could get credit for her investigative skills, Brooklyn caught their eye by
stretching her sore arms. She decided to have a little fun with all this, it had been a really
shitty night after all…plus she needed to buy herself a bit of time to let her injury rest before
she took off back home.

She was a Stark, and snark and confidence were the way her father dealt with Waynes, a
seemingly effective tactic she could use seeing as she too was weary of engaging in any sort
of attack before Alfred Pennyworth.

"Actually…I figured it out," she mused, "When I saw Richard's perfect ass on Nightwing’s
suit it all just clicked into place"

The blonde tried and failed to conceal a snort of laughter, especially when all the boys,
Damian and Pennyworth included, stared at Brooklyn with widened eyes of disbelief at her
crude statement. Even the Wayne with anger-management issues dropped his guns, ruined
leather jacket forgotten beside him.

It was the truth, but not the whole truth. A big part of her piecing things together had been
identifying Damian as Robin. But that would require telling the enemies before her about the
surprising amount of details she'd acquired on their youngest sibling. Brooklyn wasn’t
exactly proud of that.

The one Brook could easily identify as Tim settled down on the plush reclining chair by the
door, pulling his dark hair out of his face to reveal the tired eyes the Stark had seen at the
gala. Harry had been right, this one must be working overtime at Wayne Enterprises. She had
to make a mental note to become more invested in her own company from now on if only to
beat that Wayne in that particular aspect.

The exhausted Wayne stared at the eldest with tired amusement, "Nice going, Dick"

When ‘Dick’ turned around to plead his innocence, Brook got a perfect look at the sculpted
backside of the vigilante, which earned her a kick in the arm from a bedridden Damian before
her. His gaze was dark when Brooklyn met it, as if ogling his brother was an offense Damian
considered so grand, that she was not allowed to do so.
Killjoy. All Waynes were a waste of good looks.

Beside her, Alfred cleared his throat and said smoothly, "You must excuse their poor
manners, everyone has been on edge lately"

The Stark snorted, running a hand through the sleeves of her black body suit to try and wipe
off the wetness of the rain onto Damian's precious array of rugs.

Turning to the Waynes at the end of the bed, Brook said, "If this is how you treat all your
guests, no wonder this place is so empty. Didn't mom and dad teach you manners?"

It was the quiet and observant one that spoke next, the one the other siblings flinched at as
she made her way towards the bed. Whispers of the name Cass came with a warning tone, as
if the Wayne's expected the apparent assassin to attack.

"Speaking of manners, why did you hurt Damian then?" she said, voice much lighter than
that of the other girl, but with a sharp edge Brooklyn had heard often during her childhood.

Thankfully, Brooklyn did not have to explain herself, Alfred did that for her as if he sensed a
fight was about to begin. The old man went on about the events of tonight the teens had
explained to him, and by the end of it all, the Waynes were left...on edge? But that weariness
and disturbance was not directed at her for once.

The mention of the Joker and Damian's possible demise left them visibly shaken, especially
Red Hood, which was odd considering he seemed to be the one to despise Damian the most.
They were shaking, Brook realized, either from fear or barely restrained anger, she wasn’t
sure.

When their eyes met Brook's again, the drive to attack was gone. All of them, Red Hood
more so than the others (which was surprising since he’d been the one to actually try and kill
her), had a look on their eyes she couldn’t pinpoint. It was something vulnerable that she’d
yet to catalog, yet no one said a thing for the minutes after the tale was over, even when
Damian muttered things about this not being any of his sibling’s business.

Yet the quiet safety of the room was gone in an instant when the sound of pitter patter came
from the hall, too quick to be the steps of a human. In the seconds it took for them all to shift
their gazes to the door, a large black dog burst into the room, maneuvering between Richard
and the blonde, almost knocking them on the floor as the dog began sniffing around the
room.

Its gaze went immediately to the bed ridden Damian, ears flattening against its head.

Despite the faint whimpering, then the dog’s focus shifted and it began sniffing again, turning
slowly towards Brooklyn with a growl. Brook realized the dog couldn't possibly hold a
family vendetta against her…but it did smell Damian's blood on her, the red substance that
had slowly soaked into her suit on their walk to the manor.

For a moment, Brooklyn matched the dog's hatred. There was a reason she despised animals,
a reason going back to her days on the streets of Manhattan and then in the city of Brooklyn.
The girl had enough in the usual monetary sum from her adoptive family when she left New
Orleans to keep her fed most of the time, but it was never enough for shelter, so she made the
alleyways work most times. When the money ran out, Brook often had to scavenge for some
food in the streets, but she wasn't the only one. Stray dogs and cats were often competitors of
survival for her, in fact, some of the scars on her back (the less severe ones) were from
animal fights she often found herself tangled in when her body had been skinny and weak
with starvation.

Beholding the black Great Dane before her, it was as if the teen had been transported back in
time to an abandoned alley. This dog was going to attack, but Brook had long since learned
the language of the dogs, what they respected and feared. So she stood from her chair,
leaving the dagger behind as the dog pounced.

The Waynes around her began looking around with more panic than ever, trying to hold the
dog's collar to no avail. But Brooklyn was not frightened, she ignored their shouts and pleas
towards the pet apparently named Titus, the pleas for her to run away. Now a few feet from
her, when the animal beheld her steady stance, blank face, and pointed stare...it hesitated. Its
trots slowed down until it stood right before her, tilting its head in confusion. To its credit,
this dog was much bigger than the ones she was used to dealing with, its height almost
reaching her hip, yet she refused to waver.

"Enough beast," Brooklyn commanded, stretching out a hand with a harsh command to sit
down by closing her fist. Her eyes never faltered, her scent held nothing but strength.

Titus obliged reluctantly, sitting down at her feet, but soon meeting Damian's eyes. To
Brook's eternal amusement, the great and mighty Damian Wayne looked at her as if she'd
grown an extra head. Apparently, this dog was clearly not known for backing away from an
enemy. Damian must be its sole owner, because the Waynes then turned to the youngest for
an explanation. One he did not possess.

Remembering her disgust for the animal before her, Brooklyn hastily ushered it away from
her so it could settle down atop Damian's feet on the bed. She made use of the paralyzing
shock in the room to make her way to the door. Brook had enough of this nonsense tonight,
she had to go back to her apartment before Happy came to pick her up anyways. Thus, she
sauntered past the still Waynes that could do nothing but watch her, and once she made it to
the door, the girl didn't look back as she said, "I was never here, nor was I with Damian at
any point tonight. Are we understood?"

It was nothing short of a command.

Jason's distinguishable raspy voice came from behind her, asking, "Who do you think you are
to boss us around, Stark?"

"I'm not bossing you around. If my father finds out I was here, with a Wayne, he'll take
matters into his own hands. This is more of a warning, not an order"

Someone must've moved behind her because Brooklyn felt a large calloused hand on her
shoulder. She was about to swat it away when it retreated on its own, as if sensing her unease.
She could see the man’s shadow towering above her own against the reflective gloss on the
door.

"This obviously doesn’t mean peace between our families," Richard's familiar voice said
behind her, something akin to a lover’s lazy caress, then added, "but we...appreciate you
saving our brother's life, even if you are a Stark. But why did you do it?"

Funny, everyone was asking that question tonight, even Brooklyn had found herself
pondering on it a few times in the past half hour.

"Because while you lot are clearly trying to follow your father's legacy, I attempt to become
worthy of my father's as well. A hero saves people in need, and that's what I intend to be"
Brooklyn said with no amount of sass or sarcasm for once.

It was the truth, Waynes’ knowing it changed nothing.

When the room went silent once again, Brooklyn sighed and tried to compose her emotions
enough to turn back towards Damian, who's blank expression met her own as he
absentmindedly stroked Titus' head.

Seeing him lying there in the midst of a blood transfusion, caramel skin looking paler than
usual from the blood loss and the cold temperatures they’d been exposed to, she wasn't
entirely sure what to say, which was odd considering Brook always had an insult at the ready
for that demon. The Stark did not wish to comment further on what had occurred tonight,
especially in front of an audience. Yet she lingered, staring at his wound as something eased
in her knowing he was no longer in danger dying. What she felt was probably relief for her
history grade.

"I'll return your backpack on Monday since you're indisposed. This is the last time I hold on
to any of your belongings, and the last time I will help you in any way, Shaytan" she warned,
then just for good measure shot him the middle finger, lest he forget what he was to her.

Damian didn’t get up from bed to attack her for the gesture, likely because he couldn't, but he
still shot her a cold glare across the room that spoke volumes.

"It best be returned to me, Pauk. You better not keep...information from me either"

The girl snorted at the careful choice of his words, "Heal quickly, you idiot. I still need you
alive for my grade's sake"

With that, the girl turned back towards the door after ignoring the Waynes’ confused and few
teasing stares the girl did not understand. Brook didn’t bid farewell to the others that had tried
to kill her, she ignored them completely, but she accepted Alfred's offer to walk her to the
front door if only to ensure she wouldn’t be ambushed.

Along the way down the dark hallways, Brooklyn had to decline any sort of medical
treatment, dry clothes, or food from the old man. Brook still didn't trust this place one bit,
even if Alfred Pennyworth seemed to be the most pleasant aspect of it.
"I can drive you back to Queens if you would like, Mistress Brooklyn," the old man said once
they reached the main doorway. His gaze was concerned, even when she was a Stark, an
enemy of his masters.

Brooklyn shook her head, eyeing the outdoors where rain no longer fell from the sky.

"I can get back on my own, plus I don't want to be seen being dropped off by a Wayne
vehicle. Paparazzi in Queens are usually respectful of my privacy but not so much near my
home," she said, but last second, decided she was being a little harsh on the only person that
hadn't treated her like an enemy at first sight, so the teen added, "I appreciate the concern,
even more if you kept this visit out of Bruce Wayne's ears. I have a feeling he'd tell my dad
about it and a war I’m too occupied for would arise"

The butler put his hands behind his back and lowered his head in reverence, "My loyalty and
service lies with Master Bruce, but perhaps my old mind is faltering, because I can not recall
ever seeing a young lady in this house tonight" he said with a wink.

Brook couldn't help the slight smile that bloomed on her face as she made it down the black-
marble steps. With a reluctant wave back to Pennyworth, the Stark left the confines of the
mansion, breathing in the cool air of the night as she tried to even out her distressed
heartbeats.

That...that had been interesting to say the least.

Her walk through the delicate rose bushes was undisturbed and silent, and Brook was almost
certain she wouldn't be attacked by the Waynes on her way out until she heard a noise from
up above. Looking up into the dark cloudy sky, Brook barely had time to move back as
something crashed a few steps before her. She figured it was a bomb, maybe a faulty missile
if she was unlucky, but she never expected to see what outline appeared once the dirt cloud
between them slowly faded away.

A person. But not just anyone...it was Jon. Jon Kent from school.

He lazily shook his shoulders, eyes on his phone as he removed off some heavily reinforced
headphones on his head. Jon Kent had been flying...actually flying…like the person who
picked up Damian at the club. When his bright blue eyes met her own, the teen stumbled
back in surprise, almost falling onto a bed of thorns as he shouted her name in disbelief.
Brooklyn retreated a few steps of her own, hand going to that dagger she'd forgotten to return
to the Wayne.

"Y-you're a mutant!" Brook exclaimed, only for the tall boy before her to shake his head
violently, still she added, "Damian is Robin, and you're a mutant..."

The teen paused.

"Brooklyn! Wait, you know about Damian!? His brother told me he was injured, but I didn't
expect to see you here!" Jon mused, his eyes going even wider before the teen released a
nervous breath and said sheepishly, "Plus I'm not a mutant. I guess there is no point in hiding
it since you know about Damian. Crap. Well, you see...my father may or may not be
Superman. I'm half kryptonian, that's how I just…why you saw me flying"

Ok...Jon was the son of Superman, the alleged alien from space. She supposed that in a realm
where her heart wasn’t beating fifty miles per hour it made sense. Jon was friends with
Damian and both their parents were part of the infamous Justice League. Her classmates were
the sons of the strongest hero and the most feared vigilante. Totally normal.

Unable to deal with this particular mind-blowing discovery tonight after all that had
happened, Brook just nodded and made her way past him towards the front gates. She'd deal
with him on Monday at school, and Damian for that matter as well.

From behind her, just where she'd left him standing, Jon shouted, "Please don't tell anyone
Brooklyn! I swear I'm not a bad person!"

The Stark barely managed to shoot a thumbs up back at Jon before letting her exhausted body
and mind lead her through the long walk back to the main city, to the alley where she'd left
her things. She'd changed into civilian clothes mostly on muscle memory, and gathered both
hers and Damian's things which were thankfully left undisturbed from burglars.

Only because it was freezing, she also placed Damian's red jacket atop her own for an extra
layer of warmth. It still smelled like him, basking her numb senses with the scent of that
peculiar sandalwood and mint cologne of his.

Despite using Damian's preferred paths of stealth across the city streets, the teen kept the red
hood of his jacket on for more than just fighting off the light sprinkling around her, but to
keep from being recognized.

By the time she'd collapsed onto her subway seat, Brooklyn let out a long sigh inside the
empty cart full of graffiti and flickering lights.

Tonight, she’d learned that the famed Joker was part of this weapon's ordeal, Damian's family
were the bat vigilantes, and Jon Kent was Superman's son. It made sense now that she
pondered on it. Jon had heard her friends approaching once when they were out of sight at
school. He had played football so effortlessly on the field tonight, almost as if everything was
going on too slowly for him and the tackles he faced were nothing but mild inconveniences..

Even if the news was unaware of a young kryptonian being in their midsts...it clearly wasn't
impossible.

All of it was a lot to process, and after a previous long night of no sleep, it was no wonder
Brooklyn crashed into bed as soon as she made it back to her loft. Brook didn't eat or shower
as she should've. She just...processed her mission, accepted it, and went into the realm of
dreams where a large stitched smile haunted her in the darkness, the laugh of a clown
promising vengeance.

At some point during the morning, a few hours before she was set to wake to go to the
Compound for the weekend, a ringing noise came from her nightstand. Not her alarm.
Brooklyn tiredly opened her eyes only to see the walkie-talkie she'd carelessly thrown on her
bedside table was lighting up next to the discarded dagger and alien gun beside it. With a
tired groan, a painful one thanks to the hit Jason Wayne had managed to aim right at her
healing injury, the girl reluctantly pushed her arm out of the warm covers to flip the switch
on.

After the static settled, the line was silent for a few seconds before Damian's unmistakable
voice came through.

"You made it back to Queens?" he asked, voice somehow devoid of exhaustion at that
abysmal hour.

Brooklyn's voice was raspy, laced with sleep, but she managed to reply back into the
darkness of her room, "Yes I did, you insufferable demon. Why?"

The line was silent again, then it went out completely. Asshole.

In the morning, Brooklyn thought she'd dreamed up the whole ordeal of the call, but the
device was still nestled under the covers from where she'd hugged close to her chest in her
sleep. Great. Maybe she'd call Damian tonight at an ungodly hour just to see how he liked
being woken up for nothing.

It was still too early in the morning by the time Happy had messaged Brook to get her ass
down to the front gates. A pity since Brook had hoped to greet Peter before leaving, but she
could always text him later and figure out an excuse as to why she’d left the game
immediately with Damian Wayne in tow. The history project was the perfect excuse, but if
Damian returned to school on Monday with a sling on his arm, much like the Waynes, Peter
might assume she had something to do with it. Her friend was kind and understanding and
had yet to think of her as a violent person despite the two fights she's engaged in at school,
Brooklyn feared that a third might change that.

By some miracle, Happy didn't question the tired eyes and sluggish way in which she
approached when she made it to the car, but he did go on a tangent about not staying up too
late after school matches, being completely unaware that Brook had been in Gotham instead
of ‘partying with friends’.

It's true that both her mind and body were completely spent with an exhaustion she couldn’t
explain, but after all the chaos of last night, Brook's mind was eased by the fact that she was
on her way to those who mattered most. Her family. A full weekend ahead of them to enjoy
training, together, watching movies, and whatever ridiculously fun chaos family game nights
had in store. After seeing the odd workings of the Wayne family, Brooklyn was more eager to
make it to the warmth and peace of her family. The darkness and ancient regality of the
Wayne manor had left a mark, made Brook realize that there was a certain beauty to the
domesticity and light that her second home offered. One she was desperate for.

She longed to train with Natasha till her muscles ached, to eat Grandpa Steve and Wanda's
cooking till she could fit enough pancakes in her mouth like Scott, even working through
Stark Industries files with Pepper and the intense boxing and driving lessons with the moody
man beside her sounded like absolute bliss.
Brook longed to see her dad, spend more time with him now that he was back from his
mission in Washington DC. She wanted to know he was safe, and though she’d done things
that he wouldn’t have approved of, Brooklyn figured the intel she’d gathered had been worth
the trouble.

Clint had wanted to go through some archery lessons to broaden her skillset, and Banner had
promised to clear up some scientific questions Brook had come across in the SHIELD
records she’d been scouring lately. Those would be skills and information to be gained in
much less…troublesome ways than yesterday had been.

With every mile driven, Brooklyn was closer to a long and busy weekend with no clowns,
alien weapons, or classmates with secret identities. Though she had no answer as to why,
despite wanting to forget about that last part especially, she'd bothered bringing the walkie-
talkie along in her packed belongings. Peeking into the sports bag, Brooklyn stared at the
heavy duty object that had ridiculously turned into a treasured object to cuddle last night,
hiding it from Happy's line of sight as she very briefly wondered how the demon was doing.

Had his stitches held last night? Was his overwhelming family making sure he was well cared
for against the cold they’d experienced yesterday?...Damn it, why did she even care?
 Interrogation from Tony Stark & the Batkids
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

"You know, I used to keep a lot of secrets from my old man. Mostly hookups I brought home
for the night as a teen, but this is different. I feel like this is where I pull out the adult card
and demand to know it all," Tony said from his side of the work table.

Brooklyn looked up from her own work, setting down the work tool in hand while shooting
her dad a raised brow.

"Before you ask, no, I don't have ANY secret hookups. Though everyone at school
apparently expects me to. Harry says they think I'm bathing in designer handbags, taking a
different guy to my bed every day," Brook said with a tired sigh, wiping the black grease off
her fingers with a nearby rag, "They also think I love attention, those idiots don’t know that's
a spy’s worst nightmare"

Her dad paused his own work, pushing the holographic screens out of his line of vision so
Brook could see the smile on his face, brown eyes so much like her own shining brightly with
their own kind of happiness that seemed to be growing every time she saw him.

"I guess you have me and my dad to thank for that kind of expected reputation, it comes with
being a Stark. You may not like the attention but you can't avoid it forever, kid. Pep has been
doing her best to keep the media at bay, but soon enough I think you will have to fall prey to
it like the rest of us have. You have no idea how many requests for TV interviews, magazine
covers, and modeling jobs you've gotten. I think it's more coverage worldwide than I got
when I was starting out," Tony said, but he didn’t seem happy about that either.

Her dad knew how much Brook despised the media, that she hated being seen. The fact that
he and mom had been pushing all that stuff back for so long just to give Brook the space to
try and adjust to this new life...maybe they didn’t know it, but it meant the world to her.

Still, Tony was right, there would come a time when she'd have to get social media accounts,
fulfill the very public responsibilities of being a Stark for the betterment of the company. If it
made her parents’ lives easier, of course Brooklyn would sit through interviews and such, but
her main fear was that someone would dig too deep into who she was, eventually finding
something in her past that would ruin everything.

But if Brook kept avoiding the masses, if she remained hidden and then journalists really
began digging to try and figure out why...then a worse outcome could arise.

"Mom already works too hard…I'll slowly start integrating myself into celebrity life next
week then. But I might need some pointers on what to do. The Red Room taught me much,
but not how to pose for magazines or speak in public. Those weren’t Ivan’s strengths," she
said, already dreading the new step of her life change.

The times Brooklyn had seen Tony on TV, he seemed to be in his element, garnering the
attention and praise of everyone with just a simple smile or witty comment. Living up to his
image would be hard work, and her dad certainly seemed to think so too.

Tony moved over to sit on the vacant stool next to her own, bringing down the rock music
they both surprisingly had in common as he leaned his elbows on the messy table, staring at
the pile of books to her right.

Brooklyn was an exceptional spy and assassin, but she was not a natural genius like her
father when it came to technology innovation, so she'd been pouring her mind and soul into
learning everything he knew not just for the company, but for her future as an Avenger.
Brook had studied many of her dad's journals, documents, and was now getting into the
books from his college days.

Physics. Electronic Engineering. Electrical Engineering

Those were her dad's strengths that had helped him not only become successful in Stark
Industries, but also as the man who made an Iron Man suit in a cave with technology that was
said to be impossible to harness the way he had.

No one had asked Brook to do it, not SHIELD or her family, but she figured that just as it had
become a strength that made him an invaluable Avenger, she could do with some of that
knowledge. It was long and tiring work, yes, but Brook knew having a sharp mind was worth
it in every aspect, plus it had its personal benefits for personal projects...

"Are you sure you want to get into that world now? You have so much going on already with
both SHIELD divisions, Stark Industries, school, the Decathlon, training with everyone, not
to mention all those secret missions Fury has been sending you on but won't tell be a thing
about" he said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder against the soft fabric of her blue
sweater, "I get it though. I've burned the candle on both ends myself most of my adult life
and all, but I just...this is gonna sound cheesy...but I just hoped you would have a chance to
live a normal teenage life if only for a little bit longer"

The teen tried not to show her surprise at her otets being aware of her secret missions, which
was made all the easier by his admission that he had no clue what they were about. He
probably thought Fury was testing her with basic on-field stealth, otherwise he would’ve tried
to get more answers out of her.

It eased her to know that even if Director Fury admitted to her research on gangs that
possibly involved alien weapons, her dad wouldn’t know how much further she’d strayed
from that assignment. Even Fury didn’t know about her impromptu trip to Gotham and her
encounter with the Joker..

Beyond that mild panic, Brooklyn couldn’t help but laugh at the rest of his statement, "I
would never be able to have a normal life anyways, not with my past. Plus, I like the work
and the missions, it's in my element…it's what I'm good at"
It's what I was trained for, is what Brook elected to keep to herself, though she could see her
otets might’ve guessed the unspoken words. She’d learned that any mention of her Red
Room days made him upset in a way she’d never imagined, that he held himself responsible
for the horrors but had no clue how to help ease aches she no longer felt. Not now that she
had this family and it was easy to bury the wounds of her past with every smile they shared
with her.

The teen pointed at the holographic model before them. She'd been working on an A.I. of her
own, hence the piles of books and notes all over her side of the desk in her dad's lab. After
realizing she'd need to go on many more secret missions to find the Joker and the weapons,
Brook decided she didn't have the space to worry about FRIDAY monitoring her. She'd build
an A.I. with her rules, something to better fit her distrust of machines…a machine and
program only loyal to her.

She was short of imagination, but so far, the file name was simply MAI. Modified Artificial
Intelligence.

Modified because Brook was heavily relying on her dad's previous programs and notes.
She’d thoroughly analyzed the skeleton of JARVIS to figure out where to start, then focused
on the improvements made to FRIDAY to get an idea of what needed fixing. Its temporary
name was short and simple, easy to remember, but MAI’s actual programming still had a long
way to go.

Her dad smiled softly at the sight, inspecting the design of the A.I programing by zooming in
with his fingers and reading the specs, likely noticing the similarities to his own programs
and the changes she'd managed to implement.

Then there was the even bigger skeleton of parts off to the side. He eyed the sun shades on
the table connected to a nearby monitor. That was her baby now, her most prized project.
Brook had gotten so used to wearing shades outside to keep herself from being spotted so
easily, so she’d figured she might as well add some workable functions to them with all the
information on engineering and coding she'd accumulated lately. When her A.I was done, it
would be added into those shades, her apartment, and maybe even her Stark watch once she
made some upgrades to it.

It might very well be the first mechanical upgrade she made to something that wasn’t a
weapon, which Brooklyn supposed had to be some monumental change in her life. This
wasn’t meant to hurt anyone, but to better protect herself and others…it was an homage to
her dad’s work, not Ivan’s teachings.

"Not bad, Daphne. I gotta say it's nice having someone to work with down here, especially a
daughter that clearly takes after my genius," he said with a smirk, lightly bumping his
shoulder with her own. They both chuckled at the praise.

Speaking of working…

"What are YOU working on over there, you've been awfully secretive about it," Brook said,
pointing towards his side of the desk where a large tarp was covering the items on it.
Her dad laughed, retreating back to his own project with a pat on her back.

"It's a secret, and since I have a trained spy as a daughter, I need to be extra careful not to
ruin the surprise ahead of time," he said with a wink, going back to his large array of
holographic screens. As if they were keen on keeping the secret, the two hydraulic arm robots
dad used as assistants kept the tarp open away from view. DUM-E and U even tilted their
robotic claws to the side as if claiming innocence for their secrecy.

Brooklyn was stunned for a second. Was it a surprise for her? It couldn't be for anyone else,
as a trained spy, dad had to know she’d be exceptional at keeping the secret (unless it was
from sestra).

The door to the lab suddenly announced the arrival for Brook's mom and Uncle Rhodey, who
stepped in still engaged in a conversation about something involving security measures. Tony
and Brooklyn had the good sense to quickly clean up some of their own mess before the pair
made it to their work area. Mom had yelled at them for the clutter yesterday...

When Pepper's sweet eyes found her own, the woman's heels echoed along the polished
floors as she rushed over to Brooklyn, placing a kiss atop her head and winding her arms
around the teen's shoulders.

"Working hard I see," mom said, gently prying the tools out of Brook’s hands, "I swear, you
two look the same every time I come down here to see you"

Uncle Rhodes carefully set himself down on a nearby chair that wasn’t cluttered with
machinery, those leg braces of his being the reason for the difficulty to settle down properly.
Even Brooklyn forgot he had them on sometimes, that he’d suffered an injury that should’ve
left him immobile but the metal brace supports and the War-machine suit allowed him to
continue his heroic duties despite it.

She'd never been brave enough to ask how exactly he'd become injured, much less when
Brook knew it had something to do with that airport fight between heroes a few years back.
But Brook did notice how Sam often flinched when he noticed the Colonel struggling with
some daily activities, she figured he might’ve been there when it happened but Rhodey never
treated him badly which likely meant he hadn’t been the cause of it.

Right now, the military man seemed at ease as he often was nowadays, especially in the
company of what Brooklyn had come to realize was his best friend, her dad. Yesterday during
breakfast, the two men had told the teen about their early friendship, their years at MIT. Even
when Uncle Rhodes was not as open to talk about embarrassing things they did back in their
college days, dad always managed to trick him into getting into the stories. Amidst those
stories, Brook had learned that Tony had started college at age fifteen, but was never left out
of the college parties and everything else that came with that life.

Over these past months and even through the stories shared, Brook had come to understand
that Uncle Rhodes was an honorable man, someone who had spent a great deal of his life
protecting her dad, being there for him at times when no one else was. Maybe that's why
Brooklyn now found herself at complete ease with the three adults in the lab, not thinking
twice about their loyalties or motives. They were simply...her family.
Uncle Rhodes frowned at the visible mess in the lab, the oil stains on Brook's cheeks and
forehead that Pepper had begun subconsciously wiping off with saliva on her finger. Had it
not been her mom that did it, Brooklyn might've flinched away, but the teen now understood
that this was some sort of motherly affection like many other little things Pepper had done
recently.

"Of course you two are still working," Rhodey mused, "and I might start sounding like my
mother, but you two should go out and enjoy the sun for a while. All these machines are
gonna fry your brains or something"

Another odd form of concern she'd come to know, but this one was Rhodes' way of showing
his deep worries. He was ‘motherly’ in a sense, especially with Tony, often serving as a voice
to keep him out of trouble…however unsuccessful at times. That ‘older brother’ concern had
thus transferred onto Brooklyn almost immediately, though it often amused her and her dad.

Placing her hands atop Pepper's, Brooklyn turned to give her uncle a wink.

"Clint already warned us we have to go out and play football later, something about enjoying
the fresh air," Brook said with a sigh, trying not to think about a certain football player from
her school, the one she'd failed to recognize as a kryptonian. She hadn't told her family about
that yet, much less anything Damian related.That was a problem for Monday, once she could
figure out how to feel about it after her ‘weekend retreat’.

Brooklyn's mom laughed as she walked over to Tony to place a quick kiss to his lips. Her
dad's hands running soothing motions along the arms of Pepper's wool sweater, then moved
to grasp her hips to keep her in place beside him. Her otets was a very clingy man at times
when it came to his fiancee, especially after a long day as Brook had come to realize.

The teen was often used to seeing her mom in formal attire, but she much preferred when
Pepper donned sweaters and jeans for a change. Dad seemed to like it too, made him relax for
some reason.

"A game? Fine. But no suits, no powers, or any sort of cheating allowed. Yesterday's baseball
game was something I never want to relive again," Pepper said exasperatedly while the other
three people in the room laughed.

THAT had been fun, but Brook's mom was right, it did kind of get out of control. There was
flying with the aid of magic, super-soldier curve balls, suits that obliterated more baseballs
than Brook could possibly hope to count, not to mention sestra and Clint had swerved around
the bases like shadows.

Brooklyn reached over to the plain white notebook by her side, the one full of notes on her
projects and secretly containing the tracking longitudes and latitudes of the Joker’s
movements these past few hours. It was all important stuff, but the most valuable things were
tucked right into the cover...where small stacks of polaroids lay. They were photos of Brook
and her family that she'd taken since her arrival to the compound this weekend.

The camera itself had been a gift from Scott Lang, as thanks for being there for his daughter
Cassie, especially because Brook had offered to go play with her once a month along with
Spider-man. Secretly, it was probably a gift of gratitude for keeping her mouth shut about
knowing he’d been in San Francisco. Regardless of its intent, it had been a very generous
gift, one Brooklyn had not been sure what to do with until Wanda showed the teen her own
room. It was full of polaroids all across her walls depicting nature, her magic, and even some
with the Avengers. Mostly Tony, Clint, and Grandpa Steve.

Brook decided she'd enjoy having a wall of memories of her own in her apartment, so she
awkwardly began taking photos during any and all activities of the day with her family. The
ex-assassin had never thought she'd want to harbor memories like that, but even she
acknowledged that when she stared at the photos above the fireplace back in her flat, the ones
of her friends, they brought a feeling of happiness unlike any other.

Inside that notebook, Brook had some evidence of the 'cursed' baseball game, many frozen
moments with her parents, and even one photo she'd snuck with Uncle Bruce in the lab
yesterday (he was very camera shy).

They were her own little treasures.

Hopefully today's football game would not result in yet another Pepper-banned game. But if
her dad had been right about Spider-man showing up later today, then she might just get it
banned herself. Brooklyn was no longer as pissed off as she'd been at the hero a few nights
ago, maybe because her whole focus was on everything that had happened in Gotham. That
didn’t mean she’d be civil after what he’d said.

The small screen by her side (discreetly placed out of view from the others) was showing live
feed of the news, but none of Gotham's recent crimes had anything to do with the Joker as of
yet. None. Even the news of the city found it odd considering he'd been part of some
flamboyant robberies earlier in the week. Their predictions of his crime thirst being
temporarily quenched couldn't be further off. That clown was the puppet master of an issue
that required the attention of all of Earth's heroes and vigilantes. A little money wouldn’t stop
that.

Not that Brooklyn's family knew that, they were too busy trying to find the places in every
state where weapons were coming in, while Brooklyn was focused on eradicating the main
source.

She no longer kept it a secret because this was a discrete SHIELD mission, this was about
keeping her family safe. That was her life's purpose now.

Sure, her family...they were heroes in their own right, far more skilled than Brook was and
with eight times the experience under their belts. But there were likely many criminals
involved in this issue, many of whom despised the heroes and now had the tools to stop them.
Plus, her family already had so many problems outside of the pesky weapons issue, Capital
Hill was still breathing down their necks, only made worse by this mess and their lack of
‘results’.

So Brooklyn could deal with this on her own, help them out, keep them safe.

Because she'd fight for her family, whatever it takes.

Maybe it was Damian Wayne's motive as well, she'd only know for sure when they
communicated again. The walkie-talkie had been silent since that Saturday morning, with no
word on his injury. Last night, Brooklyn had debated initiating the call herself, but after much
pondering, the girl decided it would be ridiculous. Still, Brook had kept the thing on her
nightstand just in case Damian had something to report.

Just for a report, obviously.

Damian POV-

"There's nothing there anymore," Grayson said as a way of greeting, placing his weapons and
domino mask on a nearby table while frowning at the temporary drape covering the shattered
windows of Damian's room.

Damian too frowned at the damage done to his pristine chambers, especially since Todd had
made himself scarce about fixing it. But it was not the window the teen found himself
infuriated by, he'd damaged his fair share of items in this house amidst fits of rage and
frustration over the years. What had been boiling in the back of his head recently was...well,
he wasn't sure yet, but there was something about Jason Todd that made Damian want to kill
him more than usual.

Maybe it was the dents in Damian's wooden floors? But Todd had not made those, that had
been Stark.

As the teen's elder brother settled down comfortably on a plush chair, stretching out his
strained muscles from having to run all the way to the Gotham Water Tower and back,
Damian snuck a glance at the drawer beside him where a certain walkie-talkie laid beside a
washed black hood and a belt with a carved hourglass.

Before Grayson could acknowledge the movement, Damian was already facing the desk
space across from his massive four-poster bed.

"I expected as such, the Joker took everything out as we left. Did the tire tracks lead
anywhere?" he asked, rubbing Titus and Alfred the cat's heads from where they lay beside
him like dutiful guardians for their master.Neither animal woke from their peaceful slumber
when Grayson banged his hand on the mahogany desk in frustration.

"The rain from last night got rid of all tracks, we were too late," the eldest said, yet despite
that being bad news, Damian was not as bothered about it as he should’ve been.

Despite the stupidity of it, the teen had some semblance of trust towards Brooklyn's back-up
plan. He would never admit it out loud, perhaps not even to himself, but the youngest Wayne
had been the tiniest bit impressed by her quick thinking in tagging the Joker and Harley. The
Red Room was notorious for its thorough espionage teachings, enough so that Damian's
grandfather had often sought out their help in times of peace between assassin clans.

Perhaps that bit of training made Brooklyn Stark a more competent person to be stuck doing
this job with, but Damian did not dare put more faith in her aside from what was required for
this mission. That Stark had many secrets still untold, including those scars and wounds on
her back that even his hazy mind had clung to. The memory of them only made him trace his
own recent injury absentmindedly, a move Dick caught.

"Does it still hurt?" Grayson asked with concern, making to stand as if to rush to Damian’s
aid, but the teen stopped him with a simple hand gesture. The injury didn’t hurt anymore,
nothing more than a nuisance now…it was the memory of the night that often brought
distress.

Not that anyone could know about that.

At that moment, the door to his room opened once again, this time less ceremoniously as the
herd of his 'siblings' rushed into the room with frowns of their own. As always, none of them
waited to be invited in, though Damian figured the common occurrence had to be a habit by
now. One he despised.

It was Stephanie Brown that threw her mask on the floor with vigor, blonde hair sticking out
at very unattractive angles that were as ruffled as she seemed to be. It came as no surprise
that out of all of them, she was often the one that exaggerated her own emotions, it was never
difficult for Damian to discern what she was feeling.

"The pipes are closed off!" she yelled, "By the time it takes us to dig out the rubble or try and
break in from above, they will have shut if off further or just stopped using it all together"

Damian kept his face impassive as always, even when Cassandra beelined to the bed to check
his bandages. Even out of the League’s expectations, Cain still took her responsibility for
guarding his well-being too seriously. He debated reminding her how much he disliked being
touched, but that would likely earn him a knife to the leg, and Damian's legs had barely just
stopped shaking from the aftermath of the electrical shocks he’d suffered.

Todd and Drake settled down in the room shortly after, both covered in mud and rubble.
Damian might’ve laughed at their misfortune had this not been a serious issue.

It appeared that the affection Stephanie had for her lover didn’t seem to register the mess,
because the blonde rushed over to Drake for a lover's embrace. The sight of their devotion
was always puzzling to Damian, just the way his father's relationship with Selina, and Dick's
relationship with Starfire, was. Romantic emotions should only be considered a waste of
time, a vulnerability. Damian had always assumed that his own mother had held no love for
Bruce, only the desire for the perfect offspring. That the teen could understand, even the
existence of lust was proven real by hormones and the workings of the human mind. But
love...it made him frown at his idiotic siblings who had no clue how ridiculous they were
being for believing in such notions.

Todd was the only one of the herd that remained standing, the person who's voice finally
shook Titus and Alfred the Cat from slumber, both of which turned their bodies defensively
towards the door. Jason didn’t seem to mind the new attention for once, in fact…he didn’t
seem like his usual self, not as he threw a bag full of small pieces at the foot of the bed. The
contents scattered out of the bag, and suddenly Damian knew why everyone was in such foul
moods.
The red metal was familiar, it was the cause of his injury, the one responsible for Todd's death
years before Damian's arrival at the Wayne mansion. It was also the weapon that caused
Barbara's comatose-like state down at the Bat Cave. An object of destruction, wielded by
only one master.

Events of that night from his own encounter with the weapon flooded into Damian's mind,
enough that he vividly remembered Brooklyn's hooded form blasting the Joker's crowbar
with her alien gun, a twin to the one he had in his wardrobe.

"The Stark destroyed it," Damian said simply, earning wide eyed stares from his siblings as
they all beheld what was left of one of the most haunting items for their family. Todd's own
stare could've melted the remains if he possessed a portion of Jon's abilities. Yet Damian was
certain Red Hood would find a way so that not even an atom of that crowbar remained, either
for his peace of mind, or as vengeance for Barbara.

"It seems we owe Stark Jr. more than we thought," Grayson said with a tired smirk, leaning
back on his chair as he added, "She saved our baby bat, AND did something we've dreamt of
doing for years. Not bad for a kid"

Stephanie’s gaze was still haunted as she beheld the object that any of them would’ve given a
fortune to see out of the Joker’s hands. To his surprise, she chuckled from her place seated
against the wall, running her hands along Drake's onyx locks as they held each other in a tight
embrace.

"You just like her because she said you have a nice ass, like that's news to anyone," she said,
and Damian felt his cheeks flame with anger, perhaps at the mention of said Stark in what
was once the quiet peace of his room.

"Nevertheless," Drake said over his lover's shoulder, "I don't understand why we're keeping
this a secret from Bruce and Selina. I'm all for messing with the old man from time to time,
but this information seems like something the Batman should know"

Damian knew he was right in hiding his reasoning of Brooklyn's involvement in this mission
from them…not entirely out of distrust, but because some part of him was trying to keep the
carnage at bay. The Joker had proven himself capable of stopping even Damian with those
new weapons, of which Barbara had already been the first victim. Bruce's mind was clouded
by justice, Jason's by vengeance, and everyone else was likely to fall prey to death if Damian
had almost met that fate.

This was his issue to handle, he knew what to expect now, had the patience and clear mind to
go forward. Thus, Damian urged everyone in the room to keep quiet about it for now, lest this
begins a war with the Starks or conflict with the Avengers. Damian was lucky they all had
relatively busy lives and missions of their own to complain against his reasoning, but he
knew that while Bruce would not know of this information, it would not leave the minds of
everyone in this room…not for a while.

Mentioning Brooklyn Stark in the first place had been an awful idea, as he'd come to find not
too long after that. Stephanie Brown was a skilled fighter, decent by League standards, but
one of the things that made her so insufferable to Damian was her unwavering ability to put
her nose in everyone's business. Oftentimes, the woman didn't have much to intervene with
when it came to his own life. By her standards, Damian’s existence was 'boring'...until now
that he’d just dangled a piece of meat before the gossiping beast.

"Speaking of which! Care to tell us more about the first —and only— gorgeous girl you
brought home? Alfred liked her very much, you know, spoke praise after praise about the
Stark during breakfast," she said, at which point Damian was already colliding the back of his
head against the mahogany headboard in frustration.

Drake gave his annoying girlfriend a look that between lovers that must be some sort of
warning, one Damian's 'sister' elected to ignore.

"I'm just saying," Stephanie added, hands raised in the air in mock surrender from her place
sitting cross legged on the floor, "Right now Brooklyn Stark is the most talked about girl in
the world, she practically has every teenage guy drooling over her. I just thought it was funny
that Damian of all people managed to drag someone like that here"

Damian of all people…what was that supposed to mean?

His patience was running thin, especially when the teen beheld Grayson covering his mouth,
doing a very bad job of making the action look natural. One look around the room confirmed
the burst of amusement had spread like the plague to the others despite the shattered crowbar
in the middle of the room.

He'd almost died by the Joker's hands, and the only thing Stephanie could focus on was the
fact that Brooklyn Stark had been here!? Damian already had enough unwanted conversation
about the girl from Jon, who couldn't stop freaking out about her finding out his secret
identity. Luckily, Kansas Jr. had some charity event with his family and was not currently
here to add fuel to the fire of Brown's amusement.

"My mission was to keep an eye on the Stark to gather intel. She came to Gotham, I
followed. Had I not been bleeding on the floor, I would've brought myself home. Her
company was unfortunate, but ultimately served a purpose, so don't try to find atrocious
accusations where there are none" the teen said simply, letting out a frustrated huff of air.

Cassandra settled down on the edge of the bed after her inspection of the wounds on his body,
the fact that she had not called for Pennyworth meant nothing was wrong at least. Setting her
black mask off to the side neatly (unlike Damian's other siblings), Cassandra eyed the broken
window of the room where the temporary curtains meant to block off the cold and the rain
were dancing to the wind's will.

"Brooklyn Stark is most definitely a Red Room trainee prodigy, a Black Widow with great
ability. I know most of us had no intent on killing her, but the girl fared incredibly well
against our skillset. She knew our attacks and how to counter them, yet had many openings to
kill Jason and Dick, none of which she took" she mused.

Damian didn’t find an oddity in that statement, not like the others did. He knew Brooklyn
Stark had sworn off her life-ending tendencies, certainly proved so back in the Water Tower.
One could argue that because they were Waynes, perhaps she would be more inclined to hurt
one of them. But even though he'd never say it out loud, his enemy had saved his life, despite
his last name.

Perhaps being around all those heroes did something to a person, even one who was raised to
become one of the worst kinds of humans imaginable. There was truth in her farewell
statement the other day, Brooklyn WAS trying to follow her father's footsteps, a thought that
he no longer thought to be impossible. Though Damian was still unsure how to feel about
that.

Across from the bed, Dick smirked at the silence, "Never mind the ass whopping she gave us
in our own home, even though I do want a rematch someday. That girl had the balls to talk
back to Bruce at the Gala, now THAT was impressive! So I agree with Alfred, I don't
completely hate her, but we’d be smart to be weary anyways. If one day we do have to fight
her for real, I don’t want a repeat like that when it counts"

Everyone aside from Damian gave a hesitant hum of agreement, despite the difficulty that
was praising an enemy in any way. Beside the teen's lap, Titus had become used to the rowdy
audience that was normally never in this bedroom, but in his effort to find a more
comfortable position, the dog managed to accidentally step on the remote for the TV
mounted on the wall before the bed.

Damian never bothered with watching common TV shows, movies, or sports. The latter
being the only exception when Jon was around. Kansas Jr. was frantic about football outside
the school’s field, watching it was amusing to the kryptonian even when he could beat each
and every one of those professionals with little to no struggle.

No, Damian was not a fan of those things, his screen was always focused on the only thing
that mattered. The news. Today it seemed, the news had strayed away from its usual coverage
of Gotham related crimes, which rarely happened, but seemed like a common occurrence
nowadays.

Instead of a bank robbery or a murder, Vicky Vale —one of father's past questionable lovers
— stood before an unusually clear sky, right in front of an inconspicuous Donut Shop. Before
the Waynes could try and pinpoint where the shop was in Gotham and why it required news
coverage labeled as Breaking News, the strawberry-blonde was beaming at the camera with a
mic in her hand.

"Breaking news from Manhattan!" she said enthusiastically, already making a new headache
come about, "Not minutes ago, Tony Stark and his daughter, Brooklyn, were reportedly seen
at this establishment! This is some of the rare footage the world has been able to get on the
Stark heiress since her reveal to the public world!"

"Are they serious?" Todd asked with a scowl, but moved from his previous spot by the door
to watch the screen nonetheless, even going as far as to remove his helmet.

Damian's eyes went wide when he saw her, even as Titus began barking at the screen
excitedly, tail wagging. The teen still needed to have a serious talk with Titus about his
strange behavior with the Stark the other day.
Brooklyn came out of the small shop with a ticket in hand and her father beside her. The two
were wearing...football jerseys? Not of any particular team, but they had the famous
Avengers logo on them, and when the pair turned around to wait for their order, Damian
could just manage to make out the writing on the back.

Clint is the best Avenger.

It was as if they just finished a game. There were dirt stains on the white Jerseys, and despite
being worldwide celebrities, neither Stark seemed to care very much at the fact that their hair
was in slight disarray or that their jeans were covered in mud when out in public.

Damian...he'd only seen Brooklyn Stark smile a few times, mostly around her friends within
school halls, but seeing her bright unrestrained smile now, it surprisingly didn’t entice an
immediate sense of disgust. She looked her happiest as she talked to Mr. Stark, both laughing
at something they said.

The teen didn’t understand why he couldn't pry his gaze away from the enemy on the screen,
perhaps because he wondered what Brooklyn Stark was truly doing there? Maybe she'd found
out where the Joker was and she’d decided to engage the donut shop with Iron Man as
backup? Damian felt himself clutching the edges of the sheets at the mere thought of his
nemesis going against her word, they’d agreed that they’d investigate these matters together,
and if she thought him being momentarily injured made him indisposed…then she’d be
ahead of the curve.

Thankfully, It seemed Damian and his siblings would not have to trade theories, because
Vicky Vale had no shame or sense of privacy. The woman slowly made her way to the pair
with a shaky camera as Mr. Stark was waving at some nearby families waiting for their own
orders, letting some youngsters gawk at the Iron Man suit standing dutifully in a parking spot
as if it were a simple vehicle.

"Oh, there she goes," Stephanie said with a groan, but clung to Tim Drake's arm nonetheless
in anticipation. Some of the people in the room began making bets on whether or not the
reporter would annoy the Starks to death or not, she could very well end up with a restraining
order by the end of this. Damian wouldn't have bothered with useless gambling regardless of
who was involved, but he couldn’t even mock the crowd in the room, not when his gaze was
firmly locked on the large screen looming over them all.

On the TV, the reporter put on her best smile (which was not pleasant in the least), and tapped
Iron Man on the shoulder.

"Hello Mr. Stark! I'm Vicky Vale from Gotham News!" the woman said, and Damian
could've sworn he saw Brooklyn's puzzled gaze widen ever so subtly at the mention of
Gotham.

To his credit, Mr. Stark appeared to possess the talent to speak to the media without angering
them, the same talent that his father had as his civilian persona. Bruce’s youngest son…well,
Damian could admit that his mannerisms are cold, that he is not well-liked, unapproachable
to many. Damian had made so many reporters cry and quit their jobs over the years that they
never bothered with the teen, but he was curious as to how the young Stark would handle the
situation, especially as Vale's intense and hungry attention turned to her.

It looked like a hawk about to rip a spider apart.

"Miss Stark! What a pleasure it is to meet you!" the woman said, shaking Brooklyn's hesitant
hand. Shaking it a little too long.

"Hi.." Brooklyn said nervously, no trace of the girl who took down Harley and the Joker
yesterday, nor the one who had gotten in a fight with Damian at school. This version of her
was more like the one the young Wayne had witnessed at the preschool punishment…the
Brooklyn Stark who cradled crying children in her arms with a gentleness no assassin should
possess.

Vicky Vale didn’t seem to notice the discomfort, or if she did, the woman refused to let it get
in the way of a good story and the even greater paycheck. She kept going as if the two were
already the best of friends, Vale’s usual approach when it came to interviewing the children
of wealthy individuals to try and catch them off guard..

"Goodness, you have your father's eyes and his good looks!" the woman said as she placed a
jeweled hand on the Red Room trainee's shoulder. Damian was surprised to see the woman’s
fingers were still intact seconds later, though he figured it had to have been an effort not to do
something unseemly to the viper.

"What are the Starks doing at a Donut Shop this afternoon?"

Tony Stark pulled his daughter into a side hug, a hold she seemed comfortable in, especially
when Vale's hand slipped from her grasp. Mr. Stark displayed nothing but easy smiles and
unfiltered joy as he took off his shades and pointed at the jerseys they bore.

"We just had some family bonding, and our football team won the match. Apparently, that
means we're in charge of getting a decent post game snack. So much for winning, don't you
think?" Stark said, earning a small smile from the teen beside him, one that didn’t seem faked
in the least.

The information startled Damian for a moment.

Though his own siblings seemed to genuinely care for one another, that was the extent of the
pleasantries in their family. Everyone in the room had some sort of fallout with Bruce to the
point that hatred ran wild in the house at times. Damian might be the only one who seemed to
have a decent relationship with him, but even that was not enough for the two to have deep
and personal conversations with one another, much less share jokes and smiles.

His hatred for Selina Kyle was a separate issue but not entirely unrelated to his father, yet
even if she weren't around, the Waynes would never go out of their way to play football
together.

Maybe it was just due to the recent fall of the Court of Owls that their nights were long and
their patience running thin. Prior to that, Damian supposed that his ‘family’ had their own
kind of bonding that was perhaps not the most conventional of traditions. Bonding time for
them was probably training, movie nights on Sundays, hours upon hours spent investigating
mysteries down at the batcave, and ‘fighting’ over Pennyworth’s cooking.

Yet Brooklyn, she had a family to play with, even when they were all freaks and/or criminals.
Damian wasn't sure why he felt distressed by that image, as if he'd ever partake in any
activity as pathetic as football with his annoying ‘siblings’.

Just as Vicky Vale was rushing to ask questions about the game (likely in case other news
companies showed up to steal her exclusive) Dick clicked his tongue, all eyes turning to him.
Though Damian refused to admit it out loud, Grayson did have more experience than any of
them, especially in the realm of social interactions. He’d been Bruce’s first adopted son, the
one who had witnessed many social interactions over the years, and always seemed to
accurately wage what a person was thinking or needed as a result. It was infuriating…

"I bet you they're training for Family Day! Too bad I'm too old for that, otherwise I'd ask
Bruce to train too, especially now that the Starks are competing this year since little Stark
exists" Grayson said.

For the briefest of moments, Damian was too puzzled to speak, that is until he recalled the
lengthy array of photos on the fridge, the ones Pennyworth treasured as much as the imported
furniture or one-of-a-kind family heirlooms. The photos were all relatively the same, a
mostly stoic Bruce save for a small smile reserved for family, standing in a lush field with a
child beside him.

The oldest one whose edges were already worn was one with a young Dick Grayson who was
beaming like he won the lottery, his front teeth absent and clinging to father’s leg. After so
many mornings spent looking at that fridge, Damian knew the one under it was a photo in
which a wild and young Jason Todd hadn't even posed for the captured moment, seemingly
too invested in going back to running around the place. It was likely taken when the world
thought he was a mere orphan invited on a day Dick couldn’t attend, not a secretly adopted
child of Bruce Wayne.

There was also one with Tim Drake, but he was already in his early teen years when it was
taken. Unlike the other two, he had not seemed too thrilled to be there, yet he and father still
embraced one another despite the exhaustion in both their eyes. Damian was willing to bet
the two had been in the midst of an investigation, yet that didn’t account for the ever-so
dimmed smile from the already stoic Bruce Wayne. That must’ve been because of Todd’s
death and the guilt that came with it.

Pennyworth was lucky the fridge was industrial sized, otherwise the captured moment with
Barbara and Commissioner Gordon wouldn’t have fit. The currently comatose woman
downstairs often stared at that photo fondly in the mornings when Damian had breakfast at
the same time she did. Father had been smiling in that one again, exhaustion gone as he stood
between his close acquaintance and a younger Barbara, both with bright red hair that looked
like living sun rays against the sun’s splendor.

When a curious Damian had inquired about those photos on a casual morning, Pennyworth
had explained that the families of the wealthy, of the big companies of the world, had
something called Family Day every few years. It was a way to put all business rivalry aside
to bring people together, to make friendly connections and all that for the sake of the
importance of family.

Damian had been forced to go once when he was twelve and already taken the mantle of
Robin. Bruce had not explained where they were going, but once Damian beheld the large
park with games and families clothed in assigned colors, the young Wayne had gotten back in
the car and refused to come out.

Now that he pondered back on that useless day, Harrison Osborn had been the one to try and
coax Damian out, even when they'd only met a few times at galas. Who knew Damian would
end up going to school with that insufferable boy in the future...

Point being, there was no photo of Damian and Bruce at the event on that fridge, because
technically, he'd never partaken in it. In fact, Damian had forgotten of its existence until Dick
Grayson began speaking of the event fondly to Cassandra and Stephanie who had never
gotten the chance to attend one.

"Now that Stark has a daughter, they are sure to go compete! Too bad Damian is such a sour
beast who refuses to attend any social event, those two Starks are likely to win the Family
Cup for sure this year," Grayson said, sending Damian into a spiraling and foreign rage.

As far as Damian knew, every time Bruce and one of his adopted progeny had competed,
they'd won. In each photo downstairs, father and his adopted nuisance held a shiny golden
trophy between them, an indication of a fruitful victory. Now the Starks were going to break
that streak, surely winning now that no real competition would attend. He could already see
it, Brooklyn's smug smirk with those red painted lips of hers as she bragged about her win at
school the next day.

With icy coldness, Damian found himself asking, "When is it?"

The scattered adults in the room went wide-eyed, yet Damian paid them no mind as he
repeated his question impatiently, a blazing gaze locked on those that dared to hold their
stares for too long.

"Family Day? It's in a few weeks I think, as far as I’m concerned it's always hosted around
Halloween time," Drake said, but quickly pulled out his phone to confirm the information
with a simple nod.

Sneaking one last look at the teen on TV, her glowing auburn hair, the bright smile on her
face as she spoke praises about her family, Damian reached for his phone even when he knew
Bruce was still busy looking for the Joker with Selina.

He sent one text, short and to the point.

We’re participating in Family Day this year. Make the necessary arrangements. I also
suggest you keep from seriously injuring yourself during patrols, I won't accept anything less
than a victory for this year’s event.
Damian ignored his sibling's questioning stares as he set his phone down, turning back to the
TV only to witness as the mundane Donut Shop was quickly drowned with incoming
reporters. Vicky Vale was also no longer alone with the Starks...because the two were atop
the giant donut decoration above the store. Mr. Stark was in his famous red suit, lounging
inside the donut with a smaller treat in hand. Beside him Brooklyn was staring down at the
reporters with amusement as she clutched the bags of donuts onto her lap.

The two ate a donut each, a useless sugary treat that provided little to no health benefits,
lazily leaning on the ornament like they owned it. That is until Mr. Stark waved at the
reporters down below before taking his daughter into his arms as the two shot to the sky,
much to the disappointment of the sea of reporters down below.

He would normally comment on how idiotic that was had he seen anyone else in the world do
it, leave it to a Stark to have such a dramatic exit. Damian was considering ushering his
siblings out of the room to contact Brooklyn and demand an explanation for....well, he wasn't
sure what for. Fortunately, the door to his room opening halted those unexplainable thoughts.

Expecting Pennyworth, Damian was ready to ask for some ice packs and maybe something to
eat, but those were not footsteps he heard...

Instantly, all the Wayne's in the room turned to the door, weapons drawn. Though Damian
was still injured, he too stood up from the bed, clutching one of his katanas as the door
opened wide to reveal...wheels? Everyone dropped their weapons almost simultaneously as
Pennyworth rolled in a wheelchair with Barbara Gordon on it. A conscious Barbara.

She was still bandaged in many places visible beyond her hospital-like robe. But Damian
noted her eyes didn’t seem exhausted or haunted, her red hair had been washed, and despite
the wheelchair...she seemed at ease.

Barbara turned to the TV, brow raised, likely wondering why they were all in Damian's
usually private quarters willingly. When she beheld the footage of Brooklyn Stark as the
media fawned over her, Barbara actually smiled.

"I can't believe you danced with that Stark, Damian," Barbara said, surprising them all by
choosing to address Damian before the others, "Steph was right, that girl is way out of your
league"

Despite the insult, everyone but Damian immediately rushed over to the woman, hugging her
as gently as they could—even Jason—while they asked her if she felt any pain or discomfort.
Even after she claimed to be feeling much better, the busybodies didn’t calm until
Pennyworth assured them the injuries that remained had been looked over.

It wasn't until everyone was done with their fussing that Damian reluctantly approached his
injured ‘sibling’, doing his best to hide the bandages across the length of his shoulder by
interlocking both of his arms behind his back. A painful decision.

"You seem to be recuperating adequately," Damian said calmly, even when he felt some sort
of relief that Gordon appeared alright at last despite the wheelchair.
”You seem to be recuperating from something too. What happened?" she asked, clutching the
small blanket covering her lap as she eyed the bandages on the teen's arm.

It was as if Damian could sense trouble was coming, because Dick's and Jason's smirks were
enough for the young Robin to realize this would not benefit him at all. Sure enough the two
went onto a tale of all Barbara had missed, including Damian's punishment from school and
the appearance of Brooklyn at the manor.

Damian was pushed back onto the bed by Pennyworth, who claimed the teen still needed rest,
so he was unable to defend himself or tell the tale properly.

At least Barbara was sworn to secrecy by the time Bruce and Selina returned. They both
rushed in and hugged Barbara senselessly for what seemed like hours, but when Bruce turned
to face Damian with a questioning glance, the teen beat him to it.

"Training exercise did not go as planned. I'm just on bed rest out of Pennyworth's paranoia,"
Damian said coldly, to which Bruce shook his head.

"I figured as much, but why do you want to go to Family Day? Are you feeling alright?"
Bruce asked, sending everyone into a chorus of loud gasps behind the man.

Damian refused to answer or look anyone in the eye, mostly because he didn’t have a solid
answer himself. Instead of replying, the teen ushered everyone out of his room angrily and
only once they were gone downstairs did he pull out the walkie-talkie from his night stand,
frowning at the belt within the drawer that reminded him of a certain annoyance.

Damian didn’t call out to the teen on the other side of the line, he just held the cold device for
no logical reason. In fact, he wasn’t sure why he’d been in such a hurry to keep it close.

Unfortunately, hours later, that time it was Brooklyn Stark who used the device first. It was
unexpected, but for whatever reason, Damian answered the call anyway.

Peter Parker POV-

To say this had been a good day would be an understatement.

Peter had come swinging into the compound fully expecting to be attacked by Brooklyn,
entirely conscious of the fact that he'd yet to apologize as Spider-man for his poor choice of
words from days ago.

He'd mostly accepted the offer to come play football with the Avengers because for one, that
seemed incredibly cool, but also because Director Fury had called Peter in for some
debriefings over his patrols the last few days. Routine stuff. That had been the first thing he'd
done while the Avengers set up everything in the field outside the main building. He talked
about the small robberies he's stopped lately, but of course, Peter left out the little run in with
Brooklyn and Damian Wayne at the club for her sake. Probably the first time he’d dared to lie
to Fury, which worked in his favor because that meant the man would not expect deceit from
him…maybe. It was a good thing Mr. Fury could not see Peter's face during that debriefing,
because the teen had been sweating nervously at the lie.

When he was finally able to go outside, everyone had been busy frowning at the jerseys Mr.
Hawkeye had made, but Peter's focus had gone straight to Brooklyn, who was busy trying to
knock down levitated water bottles with a football, Wanda by her side providing the magic to
make the activity possible. He’d observed that those two seemed to be getting along more
and more every time Brook managed to come to the compound, which was a good thing
considering Scarlet Witch was supposed to make part of this new generation on Avengers Mr.
Stark was adamant to make.

Maybe Brooklyn had not yet warmed up to Spider-man, but at least one of the teammates was
successful in at least making the newest recruit laugh.

As soon as Wanda tapped Brook's shoulder and pointed at him, Peter had expected the
football in her hand to be hurled straight at him. But it wasn't, his friend merely turned back
to her shooting which was only paused when Mr.Stark and Ms.Potts went over to the girl who
no longer flinched at their touch. Peter's eyes went wide behind his mask when he saw
Brooklyn hug them comfortably, tipping her head back in a fit of melodious laughter when
she beheld the print on the shirts.

Seeing her like that...it made him smile as well, especially when he remembered the girl he
saved from falling out her apartment window long ago. Oh, how Brook had changed.

When Peter HAD worked up the courage to go over to everyone, he did almost get hit by a
football, but his 'Spidy Senses' caught it without taking his eyes off of Brook. Turned out Mr.
Falcon had been the one responsible for that intentional throw, but Peter still waved at the
man and everyone else gathered with familiar comfort.

Mr. Stark was the first to approach him, placing a jersey over his Spider-man suit and
clapping the teen on the back. Peter smiled at the man, even if he couldn't see it. That smile
and the easy flow of conversation halted when Peter found out he'd be on the opposite team
from Brooklyn.

Because Ms. Potts forbade the use of 'enhanced abilities', Peter was tackled down to the grass
as soon as the game began. Shaking off the disoriented feeling of his head, he'd looked up to
see Brooklyn standing above him with a frown while the run continued all around them. That
was by no means the appropriate moment to apologize for the words that had been eating him
alive for days, but he'd still admitted, "I deserved that"

Brooklyn looked down at him with a raised brow, "For once we're on the same page,
Chelovek-pauk"

At least she'd been in a good enough mood to call Peter by his ‘Russian name’. That was
already immense progress, much more than he’d thought possible.

"I really mean it," he added, pushing some of the wavy red hair between them off to the side
to get a better look at her face, "I never meant to make you feel like you haven't changed
Brooklyn. You have made incredible progress, and no one has seen it more than me during
training. Just trying to change everything you've been taught all your life to be makes you
more of a hero than me"

The girl above him froze in place, but her expression had relaxed ever so slightly. From sure
murder to reluctant mercy.

"You mean that?" Brook had asked simply, earning a quick nod from Peter.

There were so many words he wanted to say to apologize properly, but it was as if his mind
had gone blank and that was all that had come out. Peter just hoped it was enough to at least
get them to the place they were at before he'd insulted her so unfairly.

Maybe Mr. Thor was looking after them along with all his other godly friends, because
Brooklyn sighed, eyes closing as she said softly, "Whatever. I guess I'll just have to work
harder so that you never again suspect I'm a Red Room brainwashed girl again. But you're
gonna have to take a few more tackles as punishment"

Peter couldn't have nodded faster in agreement.

It had been Ms. Natasha who paused by their fallen forms, placing an arm on Brooklyn's
shoulder as if she was ready to haul the Stark away should a fight occur. The woman had a
red ribbon tied across her forehead like a warrior ready for battle, one whose long ends
fluttered with the wind as she looked down upon them in a way that reminded Peter how
terrifying the woman could be if she wanted to.

"You alright there kids?" the Widow asked, almost sending Peter into a babbling mess when
he noticed how odd their position was to be found in. Brook laying on top of him, Peter’s
hands pinned to his sides. His cheeks most certainly reddened for a second until Brook stood
up, shaking the grass and mud off her clothes before very reluctantly offering Peter a hand.

Ms. Natasha seemed pleased with the interaction, the silent sign of peace, because she patted
Brooklyn's shoulder in praise before shouting to the others that they should get some referees
from the intern pool since those people would be unbiased. They had ended up selecting two
meek interns to referee, yet the rest of the game had been full of cheating, mud, and tackle
after tackle from Brooklyn even when a crowd of employees from the Avengers and SHIELD
buildings came to observe.

Peter accepted the screaming from Mr. Clint, his team captain, each time. If it let Brooklyn
work off her anger, then Peter would agree to be tackled all day when the impact of it all
barely registered anyways. Yet each time his body had hit the ground, Peter silently became
more and more aware of the closeness of his body with Brooklyn's, large vibrant blush
appearing every time that must've contained all the blood in his body.

The youngest Stark did not seem to mind the closeness at all, but the other member bearing
the same last name did as Peter had come to find later.

While the Starks went out to get victory snacks, Peter had showered and changed into some
acceptable clothes which he'd inevitably have to replace with his suit once Brooklyn returned.
Not that he minded using the suit of course, it was comfortable, and he could talk to KAREN
after all. But when Mr. Stark showed up at Peter's room in the compound, the teen was scared
that Brook was with him that he stumbled over to the large closet. Through the gaps, he'd
been relieved to see it was just Mr. Stark with a bag of donuts from that place he loved.

"I bought you your own bag since you need all those calories. Eat up Son Goku, before Nat
sniffs them out and steals them from right under your eyes," Mr. Stark said as soon as Peter
exited the closet with a small smile.

Surprisingly, Peter's mentor did not go back to the lounge, instead he settled down on Peter's
bed and patted the space beside him. Spider-man wasted no time flipping over the bed and
onto it while taking a bite of the yummy goodness of a chocolate glazed donut.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?"

The man leaned back on the bed slightly, lounging on it like a king, but then said with all the
seriousness in the world, "I was wondering how my daughter has been doing at school. I've
been told over and over again that a certain boy named Peter Parker is her best male friend,
thought you should know and perhaps expand upon that"

Peter almost choked on his poor donut.

Brooklyn talked about him…to Mr. Stark!?

"Um, yes. I think she's been doing good. She's really comfortable with our group of friends
now, and she got an A on our latest Spanish test. Plus she came to the football game on
Friday, she cheered for Harry and everything," Peter said, earning a pleased smile from Mr.
Stark.

But the man didn't leave just yet.

"And what about you two? You walk to and from school most days, spend a lot of time
together in classes and outside of them during Decathlon practice," he stated, stealing a chunk
of Peter's donut while the teen tried to work out where Mr. Stark's rambling was leading
towards.

Was he worried about her safety?

"We do spend a lot of time together, like you said, she's one of my best friends. In fact, I
couldn't be luckier to have Brook in my life. She's a great friend once she puts her walls
down, we're even planning on going to the arcade during the week to relax after an exam,"
Peter said honestly, still not sure why Mr. Stark was so insistent to pursue this topic.

The man nodded again, eyeing the mess on Peter's worktables. Mostly web formula
experiments, some upgrades for old web shooters, but he suddenly felt self-conscious of the
mess in the eyes of his mentor.

Mr. Stark went over to the desk to examine some of the holographic diagrams on the wall,
not bothering to turn back to face Peter as he added, "What about boys? Has anyone made a
move on my little girl?"
Peter blushed at the question, unsure why HE was the one being asked such things.

"Um...no? Sometimes some guy will come up and ask her on a date or invite her to study
together, but Brooklyn said she's not comfortable around strangers. She's declined every offer
sir. But if you wanted to know more, you'd probably have to ask Tanya, her and Brook are
probably the ones that discuss the...um, boy stuff" Peter said, fighting the urge to bite into his
donut lest he almost choked again.

So that's what this was…Mr. Stark was worried about Brooklyn as any father would be. In all
honesty, Peter wasn't sure if Brook would ever accept an invitation from anyone at school.
Though she often tried to hide it, Peter had noticed she seemed almost scared of being around
others that weren't in her friend group. But she was so popular and pretty, no doubt some nice
guy with good looks would one day manage to get her to agree on a date at some point.

Mr. Stark eyed Peter then, a gaze so intense that the teen couldn't look away until the man
smiled and said something about not forgetting movie night at ten and that Peter had
permission from May to stay the night. Apparently, tomorrow morning, Mr. Stark would
drive Brook to school while Happy took a different route with Peter for the sake of his secret
identity.

Because tomorrow’s morning school commute would change, Peter had decided to use these
hours of solitude to inform Harry of the arrangement with an excuse involving Aunt May. He
hadn't minded of course, but Peter's friend did ask for some homework help that kept the teen
busy for a while. After that, while Brooklyn was busy boxing downstairs with Happy and Ms.
Natasha, he went to the empty lounge area to just take a moment to relax without the suit. Of
course Ned decided to call then.

"Hey dude, you won't believe what I found out!" Ned's voice said as soon as Peter picked up
the call thinking it would be something about the new Lego set his parents had purchased for
him.

"What is it?" Peter replied, flipping through the TV channels lazily.

"I was finally able to get past Tony Stark's security protocols on Brooklyn's phone. Turns out
that when she left the game, Brooklyn went to Gotham of all places, stayed there till late in
the morning, then went back to the apartment. We slept right through her return" Ned said
excitedly.

Peter's face contorted in confusion.

Yes, he had seen Brook with Damian Wayne after the game, but they'd gone to his city
together...willingly? Peter knew for a fact Brooklyn hadn't started work on her history
project, she'd ranted about it yesterday in their friends group chat. So what could she have
been doing there then?

"Think we should ask her about it? Seems a little out of character for her to go there,
especially with her most hated enemy"
Ned chuckled on the other end of the line, "Didn't you say Brook mentioned something about
Damian being an assassin? Maybe it's an assassin thing? I don't mean like they went out
killing people, but maybe they have…assassin group yoga, conventions, or something like
that?"

Peter hadn't gotten the chance to reply to the ridiculous statement, because he could hear
Brooklyn's voice around the corner down the hall. Realizing he was still in his civilian
clothes, Peter webbed his way to the opposing hall leading to the dormitories. He’d settled on
the ceiling, hands and legs bound to the surface with his stomach facing the floor.

Peeking in around the corner, Peter saw Brooklyn waving to a tired Ms.Natasha headed to the
communal showers. Surprisingly, Brook didn’t settle down on the couch. She was looking
around the room, pulling out something from the gym bag beside her once she thought the
coast was clear.

The Stark asked FRIDAY to turn off audio and cameras in the room to grant her further
privacy. Peter heard them turning off with his enhanced senses, but he also heard the cracking
of...was that a radio?

No. A walkie-talkie.

It was nearly ten, who could be awake on the other end at this hour? More importantly, who
used walkie talkies in this day and age? Was this some assassin habit perhaps?

When a male voice on the other end replied with a simple “What?”, the crackling of the
device was too much for Peter to identify the voice on the other end properly. Sometimes
enhanced senses were more of a curse than a blessing.

"Just thought I might wake you up as you did to me, unless the pain in your arm makes
answering unbearable?" she said softly, likely afraid anyone would listen in to this secret
conversation even the audio in the room likely wouldn’t have picked up anyways. Only his
senses could.

The voice huffed in annoyance, "This is nothing. What about you, find anything on the
Joker?"

The Joker? Of Gotham? Anyone in the world would know of the famed clown that had
terrorized the City of Crime for decades, the crazed villain whom Batman always dealt with.
Their fights and confrontations were legendary, there were even documentaries and comics
about it that Peter had indulged in his free time. But if Brook was talking about a Gothamite
villain, that could explain her absence after Friday’s game.

But what would someone like Brook have to do with the Joker of all people?

The girl settled down next to the fireplace, eyeing the dancing flames that lip up her brown
orbs into a honey-like color, her auburn hair blazing like fire itself. Lazily she replied, "I did,
but it's not enough for a confrontation yet. I need to monitor for a few days while I search for
further patterns"
 "Fine," the voice said, to which Brooklyn replied even quieter than before, "ARE you doing
better? If this mess gets bad, which I suspect it will, you'll need both arms so as to not slow
me down"

What mess?

Peter had too many swirling questions, things that would have to wait for as the door into the
Avengers floor opened. In a rush to not be discovered by what was clearly Wanda and Vision
coming back from their date, Brooklyn shouted back into the device, "I have to go,
just....never mind, I hope one of your bandages choke the blood circulation to your arm,
shaytan"

No matter how much he tried to, the name Shaytan wasn’t one he recognized. But it had
remained on his mind even after he made his swift escape back to his room. Fair to say, Peter
had been very distracted during movie night, even when the old Dune movie was amongst his
favorites of all times.

He wouldn't even dare a sneaky glance despite his mask obscuring his confusion. That
conversation had most definitely meant to be private, yet it was friendly concern that pushed
the questions regarding it to the front and center of his mind.

Who had his friend been talking to? Perhaps more importantly, was the Joker mentioned?

Peter had texted all the information to Ned just in case the boy was smarter than Peter and
could find something on the matter. Both boys knew that messing with the Joker was bad
news, and it was that concern that fueled them to investigate that oddity.

Though Brook was no longer visibly angry at Spider-man, she didn't make a point to start a
conversation with him, so Peter never got the chance to ask anything since bedtime rolled
around quickly after the movie. Not that he could’ve admitted to spying on her after what
he’d said to her days ago.

Thankfully, Ned did provide some interesting insight before Peter went to bed. Apparently,
the name Brook had said earlier, shaytan, wasn’t a name at all but rather a word meaning
demon in Arabic...

That was the morbid image Peter went to be with, one of Brooklyn somehow gaining contact
with a demon, a crazed clown laughing along with them. The nightmare woke him up
drenched in sweat twice during the night.

It wasn't until school the next day that things started clicking into place ever so slightly. Even
more so after school when Brooklyn and Damian were set to work on their project together.
Maybe Peter should've minded his own business after all, because things were starting to get
complicated to comprehend.

Chapter End Notes

Thought I should have this chapter before the conflict arc continues. Hope you enjoyed
it, get ready for things to get crazy!
 My Beloved Nemesis, My Esteemed Rival

Damian POV-

"Look! I told you this would happen, she's ignoring me!" Jon whispered, leaning against his
locker with arms crossed, sporting a large pout that was equal parts pathetic and unwarranted
. Damian finished out his books with a roll of his eyes, slamming the locker door, he mentally
groaned at his friend's comment which was a variation of the same ones he'd been making all
weekend.

Of course, Jon had been careless enough with his abilities that Brooklyn found out his
identity, but somehow, some part of the Wayne knew she wouldn't go blabbing about the
kryptonian to anyone. Not because she had any sort of loyalty to Jon, but because there was
little to gain if she did so.

Besides, she and Damian had more pressing things to take care of after all.

Since he'd walked into school, Damian had to restrain himself from walking over to Brooklyn
and her group of friends to demand an update on the Joker's latest moves. Plus, he had the
unshakable urge to yell at her for the last minute message on the walkie-talkie, which detailed
that she'd left his backpack on an alley on the way to school. He shouldn’t have expected any
kindness from her, but sending him on a wild goose chase had been unwarranted and
childish…not to mention annoying.

Whatever lingering and minuscule gratitude he’d had for getting him home on Friday
vanished after that.

So far, Brooklyn Stark had only acknowledged his presence with a quick once over, her gaze
lingering on the injury not visible to anyone but her and Jon. He'd had to forego his usual
black turtleneck because it was such a pain to put on, so he'd been forced to put on the most
casual clothes in his closet, the ones his busybody siblings had bought not long ago in
anticipation of this issue…more or less.

"You'll do much better getting used to more casual clothes instead of looking like a child
adult all the time," Stephanie had said, a sentiment shared by Pennyworth this morning as he
dropped the two teens off at school. Apparently flying was now out of the question not just
because of Damian's injury, but also because the Joker was 'back from hibernation'. No one
knew how much of the Waynes’ movements would be watched by his scumbags, it was better
to be on the safe side, so if he had to wear clothes to blend in and conceal his injury, plus
commute to and from school the old fashioned way…he supposed it was a minor
inconvenience.

He still frowned at the black unbuttoned plaid shirt on his body, paired with the blue cotton
shirt Barbara swore brought out the green in his eyes, which was favorable for some reason.
She was lucky Damian was trying to be in his best behavior around her if only because of the
pity of the wheelchair…
"Damian! Are you listening!?" Jon whined, snapping Damian’s attention back to the teen
once more. The Kryptonian did look worried, more so than he'd ever witnessed. Jon was a
relatively carefree person, even during training or when the Justice league were out on
missions, always choosing to see the glass as half-full.

This was unusually annoying.

"Leave it be. Stark never talks to you, nothing has changed," Damian assured, slinging his
backpack over his good shoulder and making his way down the hall. Jon was quick to follow
with two long strides, fisting his own backpack at his side nervously.

As they walked, both he and Jon snuck a glance at the group of misfits they passed by.

The Stark was leaning against a locker, nothing seemingly different about her. Same
ensemble consisting of a plain shirt, a voluminous short skirt when the weather allowed it,
and some sort of decorative stilettos that seemed to be a fashion trend borrowed from her
female friend, Bennet.

Speaking of, Bennet stood right beside Jones, both girls in opposite sets of clothing; one a
bright cheer outfit with the brightest shades of the school colors, the other baggy and
colorless clothes. Beside them, on the Stark's opposite end was Osborn, arm around
Brooklyn's shoulder lazily with Leeds and Parker sharing a joke with him.

In the few seconds it took the two to pass, Stark managed to look up from her exchange of
words with Bennet to lock eyes with his own. It was as if all his honed focus zeroed on her,
both exchanging glances while the seconds stretched out amidst their private confrontation.

Brooklyn didn’t pry herself from her company, not that he'd expected the girl to do so. The
day was young, and his time to confront his nemesis would present itself one way or another.
Willing himself to practice patience, he continued on his way, reassuring Jon that neither him
or his family were endangered in any way each time the Kryptonian’s worries were voiced on
their way to class..

It wasn't until after his first class of the day was over that Damian was able to see his enemy
again. He’d held back his impatience for that long. Their history class still carried an air of
uncomfortable pressure from the students over the incredibly unnerving deadline of the grand
project for the class. An assignment he'd have to begin with Stark after their end-of-school
activities were over.

With all that had happened recently, Damian was actually looking forward to having a
paintbrush in hand soon at art club, especially if it could grant him some stocked patience for
the looming evening stuck with Brooklyn Stark. All he had to do was get through the day.

Mr. Travis, a man of short temper and average intellect, had chosen for a ‘video day’ type of
lesson focused on the Cold War and the involvement of mutants with the Cuban missile
crisis. Damian had read ahead in the textbook this weekend seeing as he was unable to do
much else with his injury and Pennyworth looming over him like a protective hen. He’d had
so much useless time on his hands that he'd finished the day’s reading, could now deemed
this video nothing but information on a topic he already knew.
On the desk beside him, Brooklyn looked equally as bored, she was busying herself with
what looked to be work for another class, even in the darkness of the room. Not once did she
spare him a glance to explain herself for their forbidden talks this weekend, the mission on
Friday… nothing.

Damian was left with no choice but to quietly pull out a piece of paper from his drawing
notebook, scribbling down something angrily before throwing the crumpled piece of paper at
his enemy’s head while the video played on in the front of the class.

No one in class noticed the exchange (not even the meddling Thompson), only Stark as she
shot him a heated glare behind her curled voluminous lashes…then read the note.

He'd written the note in a language that would not be understood by anyone here but her, lest
it was snatched by the teacher. It was the secret code of assassins, one everyone knew no
matter what country or assassin guild they were from. It was a way to communicate in times
of emergency, one he hoped the Stark had been taught, especially since he'd added some of
that sarcastic nonsense she often used, just so she could know what it felt like.

My beloved nemesis,

I hope your thick head hasn't forgotten we have a project to do after school. I demand an
explanation over your newfound research then.

From his seat, he saw the Stark mouthing the word beloved with a cruel snort, but picked up
a pen, likely fueled by her newfound amusement. Brooklyn flashed him a crude middle finger
before scribbling something back under his writing, probably equally as unpleasant in
retaliation.
When the paper was thrown at his head, Damian was able to use his good arm to catch the
paper right before it made contact with his face. His lip curled in distaste at the attack, but
unfolded the paper atop his notebook anyways.

On neat cursive writing that nearly rivaled his own, the Stark had left a message that was
indeed equally as pleasant, sarcastic, and encoded as his own had been.

My esteemed rival,

How could I not remember our scheduled torture session? Trust I’m dreading the seconds
until I’m forced to spend more time with you. As for your kind request, it seems the Joker has
a few possible tricks up his sleeve with those alien weapons. Unfortunately, we may need to
work together a little longer after all. Just this once.

That message was followed by an address and instructions to take a different route than her
so they wouldn't be seen together by hidden paparazzi or curious pedestrians. The Stark had
to be aware that he was still very much aware of where she lived, since he'd had to meet her
there when they'd been about to suffer the punishment of their altercation at school. That last
part, all those instructions, had merely been to annoy him.

Damian frowned at the concept of waiting any longer for a more detailed explanation on their
common enemy, but Mr. Travis had begun inspecting the cluster of students for any sleeping
teens or those who dared whisper amongst themselves. As a precaution, Damian stuffed the
note in his backpack and made his way out of the class as quickly as possible once the bell
rang. As always, made sure to quicken his pace so he and Stark wouldn't be seen walking
together in the same direction towards the school gym.

Today, the one time Damian decided to look back, he was met with the unsavory sight of
Flash Thompson having caught up to the Stark, leaning down to whisper private words into
her ear. The sight almost made him pause, but unable to find proper reasoning to do anything
about it, the teen continued on his way to the locker rooms while shaking off the odd instinct
to go aid his enemy.

During the repetitive laps around the gym they’d been assigned, Damian was able to overhear
Flash had been bothering the Stark about going to the movies again. She'd refused...much to
the luck of the pathetic boy running along the other side of the gym with his group of friends.
He didn’t have to be as good a detective as his father to tell Flash looked much too happy to
have been rejected. Damian figured it was merely because he intended to try again.

Stephanie's words from the weekend had flashed in his mind all throughout the school day,
the unwarranted gossip about Brooklyn being the most 'desired young woman of her age
around the world'. It was pathetic of course, Stark was flawed, irritable, and above all, she
was his nemesis. Whatever anyone saw in her to bother trying their hand at establishing
scheduled outings was beyond him.

By the time he'd finally settled down in the art room after school, Damian tried not to show
any discomfort as he let his brush glide across the canvas, letting his nimble movements
create the image of a place full of mammoth mountains covered in snow, a common view
from the League of Assassins headquarters.

Despite his preference for his new life as Robin, Damian couldn't deny he still found peace in
his past, in what was familiar. Yet somehow, while painting the familiar landscapes of his
childhood, the art itself seemed dull, empty and lifeless. It was as if something was missing,
like the painting couldn't be completed until something else was added despite it being
identical to his mental sketch. Damian couldn't add too many details, lest it reveal its location
to a random stranger, even if this was just an art club one could never be too wary of spies.
His reason for being in this school involved espionage, after all.

Glancing at it from a different angle, it still felt like there was no substance to it, so unlike his
recent art in this class, or so the teacher had said after taking one look at it in passing. It
needed joy and happiness, the teacher had suggested, which weren't exactly ways to describe
his regal birthplace…but even Damian had to admit he felt the need to add something.

Just as he was pondering including some misplaced flowers in the snow-covered floor, the
teen realized his brush was already in motion. In the place where his home would be, a
variety of pagoda-styled five story buildings nestled along the slope of the mountain, Damian
instead drew a metal chest of various shades of silver and gray.

The only thing that wasn't dull about it was the lock. A faded red lock...shaped like an
hourglass.
Damian knew where he'd gotten that shape and color from, he'd been staring at Brooklyn's
belt all weekend, even in his sleep he’d be able to recognize that symbol which the female
Avenger had made famous to the world. As always, just as he was in the midst of questioning
his sudden artistic choices, the instructor of the club smiled and lifted it off the easel with
muttered strings of high praise.

Why did everything he drew lately NEED to have something symbolizing that insufferable
girl in it!?

That question had haunted Damian as he made his way down the winding streets of Queens,
and even Jon's farewell wave down at the football field had not been able to stir Robin out of
his confused trance. He did however have enough of his mind left over to pull the red hood of
his jacket to cover his face, keeping his identity a secret from the passing crowds on his way
to an enemy stronghold.

Though he'd been nearby before many times (mostly to spy on the Stark), the apartment
complex before him seemed much bigger and daunting than last time, the gates almost like a
warning not to proceed. It was enemy territory after all. But he wouldn’t let something as
foolish as Brooklyn get in the way of his grades, the only bit of successful normalcy in his
life.

Damian was a Wayne, and Waynes didn’t cower from any challenge.

Despite wishing he could be anywhere else, perhaps even the cruel and near-torturous maze
of the Court of Owls he’d been subjected to months ago, Damian used his uninjured arm to
contact the Stark through the buzzer next to the looming gates. She'd answered shortly after,
but seemed equally as enthusiastic about letting him up as he was about going in.
Nevertheless, minutes later, Damian was standing before the door of apartment number 56
after traversing through a variety of obstacles.

Damian wasn't gonna lie to himself, he was impressed with the security of this building, but
some part of him was still not sure why someone like Brooklyn Stark would be living in a
simple apartment when she could no doubt afford a house or mansion in a more secluded side
of town.

The building itself was clean and orderly, but it was still small and basic by his standards. Not
to mention the neighbors Damian had noticed on his way up were composed of normal
families, frail elderly, and even a few teenagers the boy didn’t recognize from school.
Civilians. Try as he might to make sense of it all, this just didn't seem like the place an ex-
assassin/current worldwide celebrity would live in.

Brooklyn Stark was a never-ending enigma, one that was starting to get on his nerves, not to
mention unsolicitedly creeping into his art.

Mustering all his patience and pushing back his annoyance, the teen reminded himself that
this wasn't just about a stupid project. He was here to get answers and make a plan against the
Joker. A few hours with a Stark wouldn't kill him.
After he knocked on the only undecorated door on this hallway, Damian heard shuffling from
inside, a melody pausing, and then it opened to reveal a girl so unlike the one he often saw at
school. For a half a second, Damian had almost pondered if he’d accidentally knocked on a
civilian’s door instead.

The usual feminine heels the Stark favored were replaced by bare feet, the colorful skirts by
baggy sweatpants with the well-known SHIELD symbol on them. The elegant blouses were
nowhere in sight, in its stead, was a simple long-sleeved shirt with the letters MIT stamped
across its chest that could’ve also been a size too big for her petite body (no doubt in homage
to her father’s Alma Mater, Anthony Stark had been the institutions youngest graduate, a
place be briefly wondered if she intended to follow).

Damian also couldn't help but wonder if the excessive and thorough covering of her skin was
meant to hide the scars the girl clearly wanted to keep hidden, the feel of which he still very
much remembered.

Like his father, Damian had a keen eye for anything suspicious, awkward patterns, and clues
hidden in crime scenes. It was by habit alone that he assessed his enemy, noting that for once,
her simple make up was removed, that bright red lipstick of hers substituted by something
glossy that almost made her look younger and innocent. But neither all of those observations
or the loose auburn hair that could be a hindrance in a fight could fool Damian into thinking
she was off-guard or harmless.

He knew what strength hid behind those currently untamed copper-colored looks.

"Stark," Damian said by way of reluctant greeting, watching as Brooklyn leaned against the
door frame with an amused smirk on her face as she replied with an unenthusiastic, "Wayne"

Neither teen moved for a few seconds, both unwilling to cross the forbidden boundary of the
door in between them as their glares intensified, Damian clutching a backpack strap to death
while Brooklyn eyed him up and down, twice, before stepping aside. The Wayne scoffed at
the action, the needless tactic to try and make him feel lesser, but did end up going inside the
apartment with little fuss.

It was not what he'd been expecting.

Damian had never seen the inside of her home during his patrols, the detailed observations
were usually left to Jon's x-ray vision. Even though he likely could’ve snuck in for clues with
little trouble, Damian hadn’t seen the benefits of trespassing on his enemy’s home just yet.
Had he known this was where she lived, he might've thought something was suspicious early
on.

This was no penthouse…but a commoner’s apartment.

The place was not full of weapons or a sparring ring like he'd assumed an assassin of her
caliber to possess. The open-concept apartment with contemporary styled furniture only
helped in the illusion of serenity and comfiness. Natural stone surfaces, statement lighting,
rounded edges, rustic embellishments, Victorian curtains…Damian made note of every single
detail and cataloged it for further analysis. It might’ve looked like something out of an
expensive catalog worthy of her last name had it not been for the mismatched colorful
pillows, mundane objects, scattered movies, and even blooming wild flowers on the dining
table. He supposed in that sense, this apartment was much different than Todd's own pathetic
abode.

Damian was so busy looking around the living room space to fully grasp that Brooklyn was
following him wearily. The teen was nothing short of astounded at this point, a rare
occurrence that only seemed to happen more and more the longer he remained by the Stark's
side. There was no trace of the Red Room in this place, at least none that he could see
without having more time to inspect for hidden doorways. The natural light coming in from
the large windows that illuminated the entirety of the too small space by his standards —
especially because her family rivaled his own for wealth— could’ve fooled him into a sense
of passivity had he not been trying to figure out the complexities of it all.

Still clutching his backpack, the green-eyed teen's gaze locked onto the small fireplace before
the couch beside him, where a dozen contrasting picture frames depicted Brooklyn with her
school friends at various places, even some including the famed Avengers Damian had only
even seen on the news. She appeared genuinely happy in all of them, Damian noted with a
slight raise of his brow, not a trace of deceit or falsehood in the frozen moments.

Remembering the disinterest he should show amongst his enemy, Damian turned back with
an arched brow still in place, only this time masked as judgement before placing his hands
lazily on the pockets of his pants for a more intimidating stance that oftentimes had anyone
bending to his will in fear.

"Where are we supposed to work?" he inquired.

Brooklyn didn’t balk at his efforts, merely pointed at the dining table adjacent to the living
room where clusters of books were already scattered, plus a few folded maps and stray
printed pages. To behold the work awaiting them wasn’t pleasant, it was a reminder that his
unwelcome presence here would take far longer than he might be able to stand.

"Let's just try and get this over with," she said with a resigned huff, yet Damian could've
sworn she didn’t sound as annoyed by that as the day the assignment was assigned.

Brooklyn POV-

Having anyone at home with her was odd, the feeling likely caused by all those years she’d
lived on her own with no one to visit her. There had been no friends to drop by, group
projects to collaborate with…no one at work or school she would’ve ever dared invite to her
crumbling home.

Nowadays, Brook was much more used to the sudden visits from Aunt May and Peter, mostly
to eat meals together on casual afternoons. But having her nemesis inside the peace of her
home, sitting across from her nursing a cup of warm tea without that usual frown of undiluted
distaste on his face...that was weird.
The two teens had set up a surprisingly organized system on her dining room table, history
books on one end and notes on the other. In the past hour, Brooklyn had discovered it was
actually easy to work with her enemy when they were focused on something other than their
last names. He held the same strong interest in his grades as she did, so they got through the
instructions for their assigned work with little need to clarify a thing. A series of topics had
quickly been selected in what could’ve been a record for least amount of sass exchanged
between the two.

At some point, Brook had remembered her manners and reluctantly offered him something to
drink plus a few stray biscuits she’d had laying around to nibble on. Now both of them were
calmly sipping their hibiscus teas as they scanned the pages of the mounts of books in
silence.

There wasn't any yelling or attempts to murder one another. Not any so far at least.

Daring a look up from her own text, she watched as Damian's slightly disheveled onyx
tresses were clutched amidst his fingers, mint green cup in hand as he bit his lower lip in
concentration. For once, he was not wearing elegant attire, he was wearing a muted red jacket
today paired with a simple t-shirt and a flannel that looked like it belonged to Jon rather than
him. Somehow Brook just knew Damian would never own such an array of colors in his
closet, but it created the illusion that perhaps he could’ve been a normal teenager sitting
before her rather than a deadly crusader of the night.

But the whole picture made him look less intimidating and unapproachable, almost deceived
her into seeing Damian Wayne as more human. With his focus honed on the words on paper
before him, the teen looked almost...bearable to be around.

He'd already surprised Brook by not asking about the Joker right away upon his arrival, but
instead focusing on the project at hand. She hadn't minded either way, but some part of her
was pleasantly surprised that their first encounter after the mess of Friday’s chaos would not
be an interrogation.

"What about World War II? Our textbook goes into great detail where that's concerned,"
Damian probed, not looking up from the history book as he flipped through the glossy pages
with regal care, the sound of the lively city below the only sound aside from their hums of
agreement until now.

The project from Mr. Travis was simple, pick a historical event that they’ve discussed in class
that has affected them or their families. Simple, meant for even the dumbest of students in
class to be able to accomplish. A poster-board was to be made, plus a slide show paired with
a group presentation, hence why it was probably worth so much of their grade.

Brooklyn almost laughed at the simplicity of the assignment, it was something she could've
done on her own. Regardless, the assignment was explicit in their teamwork being part of
that grade, meaning they’d be shackled as partners for the duration of their work just as their
cruel teacher had wanted.

Though her and Damian had been…pleasant by their standards thus far, focused on getting
things done, Brooklyn couldn't stop thinking about the injury he concealed behind that sleeve
currently resting atop the pages. He seemed fine, not an ounce of pain when he used said arm
to grab his notebook earlier nor when he utilized it to lift the mug to his lips, but the use of it
always brought memories back to her mind.

Remembering Damian's unanswered suggestion, Brook stopped twilling her pencil and
seriously considered the topic.

"Well, my 'grandfather' Steve WAS frozen like Avatar Aang during the second World War,
and my actual grandfather helped create SHIELD as a result of the conflict. I'd say that's
related to my family"

“You’ve watched cartoons?”

“Sparingly, and for a purpose”

The purpose being to entertain the rowdy kids of her past apartment complex.

“Of course you have,” he muttered, "What about Grandfather Steve? You mean to say that
Captain Steven Rogers is in some way related to you?" he pressed.

Brooklyn had to bite back her frustration for a second. She was so used to being casual with
her new family that now she was speaking freely with this demon by default. Admitting to
things her enemy most certainly shouldn’t know.

"The guy is almost a hundred years old, what else am I supposed to call him? But no, I'm not
blood-related to him, but Steve is still family," she clarified, seeing his dark emerald orbs
hone in on her form for a few seconds before that apathetic expression of his returned.

He didn’t challenge her claim, nor did he inquire further about her family. Obviously, he’d be
the last person to care. Instead, Damian flipped through the pages, stopping in the section of
the great Amazon now commonly associated with the Justice league.

Damian pointed at a black and white photograph taken during the war of the immortal
amongst bloody civilians she’d saved from an unsavory fate, "Wonder Woman helped put an
end to the war, and seeing as she and my father are work acquaintances, I suppose that
pertains to me"

"What is she, your 'aunt' then?" Brooklyn teased, leaning back on her own chair and taking a
sip of the herbal tea. She couldn't help the smile that bloomed across her lips, not when she
was imagining the mighty Amazon clad in battle armor taking care of a younger Damian.

"Perhaps by my sibling’s standards," Damian replied, looking out the window behind her as
he added, "But I meant it in the sense that she slept with my father for a time, might've almost
become my step-mother. Their frantic lust for one another was no match for the reality of
their situation, my father’s devotion to his cause and his mortality were obstacles they
couldn't ignore"

Brooklyn almost spit her drink across the table, but managed to swallow the warm liquid in
her mouth before slamming her hands on the table in disbelief. The annoying and stone-faced
Bruce Wayne got laid by someone as revered as Wonder Woman!? How was Damian so
casual about it!? The amount of detail he was aware of and spoke of with such casualness
was enough to want to make her barf.

"In that case, let's go ahead with your plan and tell the class about how an Amazon, actually...
THE amazon, almost became your adoptive mother. I’m sure it will still conceal your secret
identity quite well," she mocked, but some part of Brook was eased knowing at least
someone out there had as weird a life as she did. As peculiar acquaintances as she surrounded
herself with.

Damian paused his perusing of the glossy pages, shooting her a mocking grin that was
practically dripping with venom.

"What about telling them about your hundred year old super soldier grandfather who
ironically went from being a war hero to a modern criminal? I'm sure that will be quite a
learning experience for everyone in class since they already obsess over the man and will
love the repeated information," Damian countered.

Brooklyn hated having to agree with him, but it was likely everyone would be doing their
project on Captain America. She'd already heard many saying so in class. Maybe she'd even
text Grandpa Steve about it later, just so he could get flustered over people fussing over him,
might even give her sestra and the others a good laugh that her classmates were grasping at
straws just to geek over the super soldier. Additionally, it was somewhat comical how
involved both hers and Damian’s lives were with superheroes, that any project idea they had
would seem crazy compared to that of their classmates.

Both teens stared at the history books before them, frowning before both surpassingly said in
sync, "Howard Stark’s version it is,"

Thankfully, the project didn't have to be about something both of them had relation to, but to
their shock, Howard Stark WAS in some way related to the Waynes upon further research. It
was through conflict between their families of course, but also because both Stark Industries
and Wayne Enterprises had aided with production of weapons and goods during the second
World War.

“Small world,” Brooklyn breathed out as she gawked at the ancient article.

“Too small,” Damian replied annoyedly despite the fact that the connection was the answer to
their problems. Since it had to do with both of them, it had the potential for extra credit.

That was enough for both of them to get to researching such intricacies on their respective
laptops. What they found was nothing short of informative.

For starters, it was odd to see she was now officially labeled as Howard Stark's
granddaughter on every online website she visited. She'd never met the guy, but it did make
Brook feel all the more connected to a lineage she’d just grown to accept and perhaps even be
curious about. As she scrolled down an article over the involvement of American companies
that provided vital aid during the war to the country and her allies, she almost fell off the
chair when she came across a white and black photo from back in the day.
It was one of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt amidst a cluster of people posing before
the White House. On his right was none other than the now familiar face of Howard Stark,
with a smirk identical to the one Brook's dad favored. But on the president's left was a man
with a serine scowl, dressed to impress, but that intense gaze...

"Holy shit, that's your grandfather!" Brook said, bursting into laughter at the sight of the man
who almost resembled like an older Damian. Said teen rushed over to her side of the table,
leaning in close so that their faces were side to side before the screen to inspect the photo.

That's when they both noticed the arm Howard had around the president’s shoulders, his hand
shooting a middle finger towards the famed Thomas Wayne who must've seen it, because
aside from looking tense, there was the slightest twitch in his thich brow masked with that
stoic look that was almost identical to Bruce Wayne’s…and Damian’s.

That particular detail made Brooklyn’s laughter intensify.

"Your ancestor was a crude man, how dare he make such an obscene gesture during an
important photograph" Damian said, leaning even closer to inspect the laptop, enough so that
his arm was almost touching her own. She could even feel his breath on her skin, the faint
scent of peppermint and their shared herbal tea now blending with her surroundings.

For once, she was not immediately bothered by his closeness, not when her amusement had
yet to seize. There they were, their historic ancestors, right hand men of the president, yet
mortal enemies…acting as such.

"He has the same facial expressions as you and your father! It's like you're carbon copies of
one another! At least Howard Stark was a lively character!"

Damian’s frown deepened. Turning his face her way with a slight twitch of his upper lip, her
gaze couldn't look away from the intensity of his stare as he muttered, "You and your
grandfather have the same smirk that could drive a person insane, plus the same complete
lack of class"

It occurred to Brook that she wanted to laugh...laugh at what must've been an attempt at a
joke from Damian Wayne. Had it been a jab, he could’ve said worse, they both knew that.
But she held herself back from displaying that amusement before someone she shouldn’t
even be sitting this close to, the evening was odd enough as it was.

As the two went back to their research after backing away slowly from one another, she
couldn't help but keep that photo on a separate tab just to amuse herself when work got too
stressful. Maybe Damian was right that this world of theirs was perhaps getting too small for
comfort, but a part of her couldn't help but hold on to the fact that their ancestors had been
able to put their differences aside in a time of war, at least enough to pose for a photo
together. Maybe that meant that their own endeavor to stop the Joker wouldn't end up in
complete catastrophe.

By the time FRIDAY announced it was six o'clock and darkness reigned supreme in the
world beyond her windows, Brooklyn had enough decency to suggest they take a break to eat
something. It was now painfully apparent that they would not be able to finish this research
in one day no matter how competent at the craft they both were, so they might as well rest for
a second.

Surprisingly, Damian did not object.

She'd considered heating up some leftovers that Aunt May always brought along, but then the
girl remembered the Wayne's diet preferences would not fall in par with the meal. So instead
she ordered food from a nearby restaurant Peter had once mentioned in passing, practically
throwing her phone on his lap so he could pick out his own food from the array of options
she figured would be acceptable.

Damian, to his credit, did have enough decency to offer to pay for his meal, but seeing as it
would be much easier to just have her registered card deal with the expense she’d refused.
The demon hadn’t let that reluctant kindness pass, had insisted that he’d be the one to pay
next time, and the two teens had frozen at the words.

As much as they both hated it, there would be a next time. But perhaps they could insist this
wasn’t enemies paying for the other’s food if they took turns doing it so as to cancel out the
favors. That's the only way she could excuse it, because providing a meal for her nemesis for
a second time felt awfully chummy for who they were supposed to be.

Thankfully, the food had arrived within a few minutes with little fuss, and the pair settled
down on her plush couch as they indulged in some of Queen's classic dishes. It felt odd
sharing the couch with someone that wasn't Peter, but the pair did manage to salvage some of
that oddity by sitting as far away from one another as possible.

Despite the still unsaid words between them, the gravity of the conflict neither seemed too
pleased to discuss, Brooklyn filed the silence with the sounds of the TV, tuning in to the news
just in case FRIDAY had failed to notify her on anything involving the Joker.

Damian's attention was elsewhere. Staring at the mantle atop her roaring fireplace that lit up
his eyes as if they truly were emerald gems, the caramel color of his skin almost appearing
aglow with the sun’s rays. No matter what flaws she wished he had visually, she found none,
not when that short black hair of his ended in almost indistinguishable curls now that he’d ran
his hands amongst the trees all afternoon, and his strong jaw and regally prominent Middle
Eastern nose fit him well.

It was not hard to imagine him sculpted as a greek statue in a museum, thick brows, intense
eyes…that focus of his was enough to make him look older than his years. She supposed that
with them benign ex-assassins they probably were older than they should be in more ways
than one.

"You care about your friends a great deal," he said over the sound of the reporter speaking on
the screen, "even when none of them have remarkable skills of any kind"

Brooklyn felt her eye twitch as she shifted her gaze to the little treasures atop the fireplace
Damian found so peculiar, enough to inquire about them. Hands fisting atop the wool afghan
atop her crossed legs, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of those that had brought on a
sort of peace she was perhaps not entirely worthy of.
"What is up with you and offending my friends?" she challenged, and Damian merely replied
that he'd never done such a thing with a hint of defensiveness, explaining that they were not
relevant enough for him to notice, she let out a single bitter chuckle.

Remembering Tanya's words from Literature class, Brooklyn countered by saying,

"Apparently you slut shamed one of my best friends. That's offensive!"

Damian actually had the audacity to look confused as he turned to face her, the afghan atop
his own legs drooping at the movement. Glazing down at her, the demon scowled at her
statement.

"I don't recall ever doing such a thing"

Realizing she'd have to spell it word for word, Brook let her rising anger show as she added,
"Tanya said you slut shamed the entire cheer team last week. I must admit, I knew you were
an asshole, but not to that extent"

Damian set down his cardboard container of food on the low coffee table before turning to
face her fully, the length of the couch still between them. She too followed suit, wiping her
hands on the ends of her long sleeved shirt as if she needed to prepare for battle.

When his cold gaze honed onto her own as if getting ready to argue, a moment of recognition
seemed to flash in his eyes.

"I did not 'slut shame' them," Damian said with a scoff, "There was the time I passed by the
football field after school on my way to fetch Jon, some of the cheerleaders were whistling at
me unabashedly while requesting I spend time with them. Your source of information was
putting away equipment, so of course she heard wrong when I merely responded with the
word shakhif and left"

Ridiculous. The word meant ridiculous in his Arabic.

Brook could imagine that if Damian had whispered it amidst his annoyance, Tanya might've
mistaken the word for something else starting with an s, which would’ve been the most
prominent sound. She didn't know why, but Brook felt some sort of relief at her being wrong
after all, as if his common decency had anything to do with her.

Perhaps a text to Tanya explaining the misunderstanding might be necessary later tonight
then.

Apologies never came easy to her, back in the Red Room, apologies got one killed. She knew
that her accusation had been a severe one, that she’d been wrong, but apologizing to friends
or family was already a challenge…extending that courtesy to an enemy had to be
impossible. Perhaps not even worth saying since forgiveness of any kind would never settle
between them.

Maybe that's why Brook said nothing, shifting her gaze past his intense orbs. That's when she
noticed the sky was much darker than it had been earlier, it was already so late and there was
still so much to be done. In fact, there was still one particular task she’d promised to do.
There was no point holding back information from Damian, despite her hatred towards him,
they were in this mess together just as they were stuck with the project for class.

So after pushing her cover off entirely, the girl silently stood and led her nemesis to the small
study in the apartment, the spare room Agent Hill had originally filled with a desk and simple
shelves for school purposes.

It had been a near-empty and orderly place before, elegant and neat. Now, the walls of the
room were filled with a large array of papers, most pinned across the expanse wall with the
occasional few being connected with red strings. There were printed photos, articles, and
hand notes scribbled frantically by her all over their surroundings. On the table, there was a
curved and transparent monitor that made the room glow a gentle blue hue, one visibly
running a 24hr tracking system on the chips she'd implanted on both the Joker and Harley
with their coordinates neatly labeled on a notebook beside the screen.

When Damian beheld all her research that probably bordered on obsessive and thorough
ramblings, including the section in the corner related to the weapons research she had neatly
pinned on the walls, he paused in the middle room. His eyes moved across it all, as if
committing every bit of her thoughts and observations to memory almost instantly.

"I think we have big enough brains to do a simple school project AND figure out how to get
to one of the greatest criminal nuisances in the country. Up for the challenge?" she said,
causally moving over to the screen so as to jot down the data of the tracker from the past few
hours, then moving to the adjacent wall to label the points on a map of the country with red
pins.

Suffice to say, the two spent another four hours in there, only leaving the room to bring along
the last bites of their food and some coffee from the kitchen to sort through it all. She spent
that long catching Damian up on everything he'd missed. Down to every crumb of evidence,
every wild theory, pouring the thoughts she would’ve normally kept to herself.

"So let me get this straight," Damian said, sitting on the mahogany table as he faced the main
wall that was more of a spider web of red strings at this point, "The Joker has been keeping to
New York and New Jersey, but Harley has been going all around the country?"

From her place laying on the floor, buried in papers, the girl nodded.

"They’re going to large abandoned structures, only staying there for a few days so as to not
risk exposure. Every place they went to had some sort of criminal surge of activity this
weekend not attributed to them because they made sure not to be seen. Always being careful
not to show the alien weapons they posses so the cops think they’re perfectly normal crimes
anyone would commit"

Another nod from Brook as she jabbed her pen into the messy bun atop her head.

Damian proceeded to walk over to the pinned map, following a line of red dots with his
finger.
"They aren't using the underground pipe system anymore, but their paths sometimes diverge
from the roads. That can only mean they’re traveling by air now," he pointed out, even when
both of them had already silently speculated that. She supposed that just as she’d laid her
private musing bare, he too was extending the same courtesy.

She tapped the much smaller map before her, sprawled on the wooden floor, where she’d
labeled as much of SHIELD’s movements as her clearance would allow…as well as things
she overheard from her family.

"SHIELD is keeping an eye on the skies, but they are dealing with too many places that have
active weapon attacks right now. I could try and get Director Fury to set up more security
measures around here where the Joker is lingering, clearly planning something, but even I
will admit SHIELD is short staffed at the moment," Brooklyn mused, looking up at her
enemy with something akin to worry.

What she didn’t say is that she wasn’t sure if her word would even be taken into
consideration, not to mention such mass or resources would need clearance from the council
who would no doubt question Fury’s source…which he obviously couldn't divulge.

The clusters of markings on the map looming over Damian showed a constant pattern so far,
the Joker and his people must be taking refuge at an old computer manufacturing facility on
the East side of Queens, but he made occasional quick trips to a street not too far from
Midtown. Maybe fifteen blocks out. That area had normal businesses for the most part, but it
also had a small bank and a nightclub.

Noting where her gaze lingered on the map, Damian went back to scanning the street
ventured by the Joker while also taking a bite of one of the cookies Aunt May had made for
her days ago. Chocolate chip and hazelnuts. Brook had been reluctant to bring them out of
their assigned cupboard of snacks, but ultimately couldn't resist a little desert…even if she
had to share them with her enemy. The Wayne hadn't said anything positive or negative as he
ate, which probably meant that he liked them.

Tapping the cluster of businesses she’d hand labeled, his finger focused on the big red circle
she’d marked and said, "He won't strike the bank,"

Brooklyn nodded in agreement, "He already has shipments of weapons all over the world, so
why would he need the extra cash? Plus that place is small and family owned. If he was
looking to get big bucks out of it, that particular place would not be the smartest choice. He’s
bold enough to rob big city banks if he needs money, as he’s done in the past"

She'd labeled the more probable businesses with blue pins, since those might very well be
targets in the future. With the Batman hunting the Joker day and night in Gotham, it wasn't
like the clown could just return to the city of crime… which is why Brooklyn’s theories that
the Joker would choose to terrorize not just Queens now, but all New York as well, might be
more probable than she felt comfortable with.

That settled, the two got to researching anything about the nightclub on that street, the
biggest and most profitable business in the area, thinking it might be like the one they'd
unwillingly infiltrated together days ago. Amidst the clicking of the keyboard on her desk
and her own scrolling on the tablet before her, that's when Brook heard it…a thump on her
front door.

The study was the room across from her own bedroom, both next to the main door of the loft.
That sound had been unmistakably from out in the hallway, not near another neighbor's door
but right before her own.

Both teens paused their work, an eerie silence settling in the room.

"Expecting someone?" Damian whispered just as Brook quickly stood to shut off the lights
after a quick shake of her head.

Basked in darkness only disrupted by the glow of the monitor on the table, Damian silently
and easily jumped across the table to join her by the wall. As always, the Wayne read her
movements and intentions perfectly, both moving silently towards the door of the study with
a dagger in hand. The one Brook had quickly fished out of her sweats’ pocket was actually
the dagger Damian had lent her on Friday. She'd considered returning it with his backpack
that morning, but ended up being quite selfish and keeping it for emergencies since she only
had an alien gun, her Stark watch, and herself as a weapon now. One day Brooklyn would
return the dagger, until then, she'd consider it a favor owed for saving his life.

Hopefully she would get to give it back...unless something or someone had followed either of
them to this apartment and they were about to meet a most disturbing death. It wasn’t as
unlikely that someone of the sort would be able to know where to look. Amidst their
research, Damian had casually confessed that the Joker knew Damian's identity as well as
that of his entire family, albeit the clown wasn't happy about it, he’d liked the mystery of the
rivalry. Surprisingly, the Joker didn’t often target his attacks at their civilian personas, almost
like he wanted to keep that separation between the two intact for his own continued insanity.

That being said, with the way things were now, Brook wouldn't put it past the villain to
change tactics and send someone after Robin’s civilian persona when he was away from
Batman's safety. Away from the rule Batman had over Gotham.

Both moved with the stealth of silent shadows, pushed themselves flat on each side of the
main door amidst the darkness. With the little bit of light of the hall seeping in from the near
untraceable gaps along the door’s edges, Brook could just barely make out the detail of
Damian’s expression, his eyes locked onto her own.

Brooklyn instantly knew he would easily be able to defend himself to matter the foe beyond
the door, and maybe...maybe he'd defend her as well. He wouldn’t have stayed by her side
otherwise.

It occurred to Brook that the only time she'd been able to fight perfectly in sync with
someone had been with him at the Tracksuit Draculas’ club, even more so than with any of
the Avengers during training. With the Avengers and agents, she was still having trouble
reading their future moves and moving on par with their flow. But she and Damian…they
may hate each other, but something told her they could engage in any battle together and end
up victorious like last time.
She’d fight by his side too.

With a nod of silent acknowledgment of their engaging of the enemy together, Brooklyn
silently opened the various locks on the door. After a silent breath, Brook left the chain on as
she opened the door quickly, daring a peek while Damian got ready to attack at a moment's
notice at the other end of the door.

To her surprise, the light of the hall didn’t reveal a cluster of criminals nor was she greeted by
an onslaught of bullets…but rather two teens with their butts on the ground, shame written all
across their faces as they peered up at her. Brooklyn actually had to cool down the adrenaline
along her body before quickly hiding the dagger in her pocket, out of sight of her friends, and
then sending Damian a subtle stand-down look.

"What the hell are you guys doing standing in front of my door!?" Brooklyn asked, not quite
screaming but not pleasantly surprised either. She hadn't been expecting either of them today
after all.

Before either teen could answer, Brooklyn closed the door on them, yanked the little chain off
and opened it to help both Ned and Peter stand, noting the blush on their cheeks and the
fiddling of their fingers, like children caught opening a cookie jar.

It was Peter she helped up last, and her hand lingered on his own, some of that anger
vanishing as the warmth of his palm seeped into her own. A hand that hadn’t ever wielded
violence, a stark contrast to the weapon that she’d held in it only seconds ago.

"We are so sorry! We knew you'd be doing a project with Damian today and we were worried
you'd fight again so we just kinda stood here hoping you were ok," Peter said, chocolate-
colored doe eyes bright and full of guilt.

Ned was leaning on the wall opposite of her loft, but she saw his eyes widen unabashedly
when Damian peeked from behind the door to stand beside her, his own weapon concealed
and expression more displeased than she’d seen in a while. Both Peter and Ned seemed small
as cowering mice under its scrutiny.

"Leeds. Parker," Damian addressed them with a deadly frown, "Your presence is not required,
I suggest you commoners leave us to finish our affairs before I make it clear how I feel about
being kept under tabs"

Peter’s already large eyes widened to the point that his thin eyebrows almost reached the
gentle wisps of the hair along his forehead. Quickly, he backed up to where Ned stood yet
neither teen left as instructed. Instead they turned to her…scanning Brook for distress or
injuries. Though their gesture was sweet and understandable given what they knew of her
rivalry, it had also scared the shit out of her considering all the enemies she was making and
the rarity of having guests knock at her door.

Because of their good intentions, albeit executed poorly, Brook addressed the pair as calmly
as possible as she assured them all as well, even going as far as to mention she and Damian
were too busy working to fight. It was the truth after all.
When Peter quickly rushed forward to embrace her in relief, she almost melted into the hug
that reminded her of undiluted sunshine, spring fields, soft things. Even when Tayna's silly
musings of her little crush on Peter swirled in her head, Brook still had enough sense to
return the embrace as best she could, daring to shift her hand up and down in a soothing
motion between his soft chocolate-brown locks the way May often did when he seemed
distressed.

"Sorry, it's just you weren't answering your phone and MJ and Tanya suggested we should
head out to make sure everything was ok. Then Harry said he'd come do it if we didn't and
—"

It was Damian who cut off Peter's usual ramblings with a look she barely caught sight of, one
of a specific kind of anger she hadn’t noticed on him before, before he pulled Brooklyn away
from the embrace back to his side where they stood on the threshold of her home. She’d been
too shocked to even bother fighting against it.

As soon as the hand on her arm got her to where he wanted, it quickly let go like he’d been
burned. She knew he hated touching people, so why had he bothered to do so with her now?

"Despite my absolute distaste for any second spent in Stark's company, I'm not so uncivilized
as to start a fight in someone's home. Go play with your Star Wars toys, she and I have actual
work to do"

With that, the Wayne went back into her apartment, disappearing into the darkness with only
the flap of his red jacket in his wake as he ventured within. She considered offering some
kind of apology, but Damian’s dismissal —however rude— was necessary.

"I promise to text you both once he's gone," Brooklyn said somewhat nervously, sending both
friends a small wave before closing her apartment door behind her, leaning on the cool wood
as she took a steading breath.

What the hell was that...

For the seconds that followed, she'd considered confronting Damian for being so uncivilized
to her friends, even when that had been pretty tame as far as his attitude went. But he'd been
right, they did have pressing work to do, far too much to waste on a screaming contest neither
would win, one that might bring Peter and Ned back to her doorstep. So she just sent the
Wayne a haughty glare he easily ignored and continued with her research.

By the time FRIDAY announced it was nearly ten, the teens had agreed on a plan to go spy
on the Joker's movements in the nightclub next time he went to check out the street. They'd
laid out the plan on the dinner table as they replenished their coffee intake, arguing over the
best place to not be seen…when another noise disturbed her peace of mind.

This time, it wasn’t a nerve wracking mystery on what caused it. Both she and Damian were
in direct line of sight of her small balcony with twin daggers already in hand, the hung fairy
lights illuminating Jon's sheepish grin amidst the night sky as he hovered at the edge of the
sliding doors. She supposed that out of all the people who could’ve flown into her balcony
that night, Jon wasn’t the worst possibility. The worst would’ve been her dad, catching a
Wayne in her home.

"May I come in?" he asked wearily, his worn black sneakers touching down onto the concrete
slowly as if he were afraid of startling her.

Of course, it was the one person she’d been trying to avoid all day. Brook should've known
he'd show up eventually after he’d kept his gaze on her whenever he could during the school
day. A part of her had been hoping he’d just ignore the lingering secret between them.

"I'm sure your unearthly abilities make coming into my home as easy as breathing, no matter
what skills I possess," she said, watching as his tall frame flinched slightly. With a quick
worrisome glance towards a silent Damian, Jon let himself in, some of his chipper persona
returning as he whistled at the space around them.

"It smells really nice here, very warm and cozy," Jon said as he spun around in place amidst
his perusing, then moved over to stand right before her, a move that made her draw the
dagger resting on her thigh closer to her side. Brooklyn knew that if this was Superman's son,
a mere piece of metal would do nothing to hinder him when missiles and explosions hadn't
left a scratch on the well known hero, but she clutched it tightly regardless...always ready to
pounce.

Jon quickly noticed the weapon, actually appearing pained by the way she kept it close and
ready to use. Running a hand along his disheveled dark locks that were just a tad lighter than
Damian’s own black hair, Brook could tell his flight here was the culprit. Actual flight. Then
those saddened blue eyes locked onto her own as he took a few hesitant steps back to stand
beside Damian, who beheld the confrontation with nothing but curiosity.

"Do...do you hate me because I'm not human? You wouldn’t be the first to think so, but I
thought we could be friends, even if you are an ex-assassin and I'm well...me," Jon said, and
his saddened expression was working against her nerves of steel, the genuine distress of it all
able lessen Brook’s fear slightly. That emotion was quickly replaced by something she wasn’t
entirely used to. Guilt.

Jon knew she’d been an assassin, no doubt Damian's doing, and despite the information that
should’ve sent just about everyone running for the hills or calling the cops…he wasn't afraid
of her. The way he'd said that about hate towards him, it was like even if she had all the
power in the world to actually kill him, he wouldn't hold that against her.

Though originally she’d assumed it to be foolish, his offer of friendship despite her origins,
she realized Jon was already friends with an assassin. He probably understood what that
meant more than any civilian might. Did that mean he found no threat in her or Damian to
overlook their lethality, or did he just not care about someone's past entirely due to his own
origins?

Brooklyn hadn't known Jon Kent for long, hadn’t even bothered to run a background check
on him when he and Damian arrived at school once she spent a few classes with him. Brook
knew deep within her gut that Jon wasn’t a bad person, she’d gathered that from days of data
just observing him at school, figured the poor teen probably wouldn't even be willing to kill a
fly. He was the kid that made jokes with Peter in Spanish class, the one that always clapped
in encouragement when someone got a question wrong in Calculus. He probably had the
strength of thirty men, yet held back during the football game on Friday instead of choosing
to win by a landslide all on his own.

Not to mention Jon had somehow befriended Damian Wayne, an assassin of her own caliber
who likely trusted as easily as she did, and they had enough companionship that the Wayne
currently stood by his friend defensively. Daring her to make him upset.

Unlike the previous times Brook had decided to trust someone at school, this was the first
instance in which she might not be willing to take the chance simply because she had no idea
where she stood against him in a fight. It was instinct to be wary and cautious of dangers that
she couldn’t defeat. To go against her instincts again…well, it hadn’t led her astray yet.

With a sigh, Brooklyn dropped the weapon on the floor, then staggered over to a chair as she
tried to work around her guilt and conflicting predispositions.

"I don't hate you Kent, I don't think anyone alive can hate someone like you," she said
truthfully, and Brook had the decency to meet his eyes as she confessed, "but this is slightly
more complicated than you may think. I know you're nothing like the Chitauri or Loki, but
you have to understand my...interactions with aliens haven't been the best"

Again, that dull pain on her leg from a distant injury returned, the same ache that resurfaced
every time she thought of the Battle of New York for too long.

"You both better keep your mouths shut about this, but I was there when the Chitauri came…
I fought against them, and it isn't exactly my most treasured memory to date. I'm not ignoring
you out of something as petty as hatred Jon, I'm just trying to convince myself that...that you
won't hurt me or those I love. I know I cannot fight you on an equal field, wouldn't stand a
chance against a kryptonian. My mind just has to accept that there won’t ever be a need to"

The room was silent, but instead of trying to appease her fears, Jon surprised her with a nod
of acknowledgment. Seemingly less upset than earlier, he took a seat at the messy table, and
despite the confession that had been dragged out of the depths of her soul, she almost smiled
at the sight of the two flanneled-dressed boys sitting side by side in a place neither of them
should be. One a Wayne ex-assassin and current vigilante, the other a kryptonian with origins
from space...both in a Stark’s loft looking like nothing more than simple teenagers.

Damian was perhaps a more complicated matter Brook didn’t like to ponder on much further
than hatred, but she knew Jon could be trusted beyond his blood. Jon’s father was a hero just
as hers was and she’d managed to learn a few things that led her to a brighter future, she just
had to trust the same had been done for him. Day by day if need be.

"By principle I know you are no threat. You could've killed me many times over already, and
something tells me you don't kill at all, maybe you don't even know how. But I don't know
how in control you might be of yourself," she said, to which the boy shook his head
enthusiastically.
"Of course I don't kill! I don't use my powers for violence, Paps taught me how to control
them, even if our abilities aren't exactly the same. If it helps ease the scary mystery of it all…
I have something Aunt Kara calls tactile telekinesis, which lets me levitate and manipulate
items, fly, increase my strength, and if I focus enough even some enhanced speed. My sisters
and I even learned how to bend light around ourselves, and kinda blew up one of Grandma's
sheds with a little force field once," Jon said, then with a little more excitement he added, "I
only use those skills to do things like heat up drinks with my laser vision, cool them down on
a hot day if I blow on them. Mom mostly has me do the laundry with my super speed when
she's tired, nothing else is allowed, I swear!"

The fact that Jon so casually referred to one of the most powerful beings on this planet as
Paps was all kinds of weird already. Back in her temporary living situation in New Orleans,
the boy who’d lived there with her had an obsession with Superman that translated into
dozens of posters on the wall and the occasional action figure. Yet the fact that Jon was so…
pure that he only used his powers for mundane things that didn’t involve fighting was a huge
relief.

It meant he didn’t think himself a god, above humanity…he was just trying to adapt to what
he’d been granted since birth. Ivan might not have seen it as a good enough reason to allow
even a drop of trust, but Brooklyn was not her old master, she was certainly starting to figure
out that good existed in the world.

"I'll keep your secret, guard it with my life, Kent," Brook promised, "But you show one sign
of being a threat to humanity and I'll personally try to stop you"

Jon nodded enthusiastically as if he’d won the lottery, letting out a huge breath of relief, then
scarfed down most of the cookies on Damian's now abandoned plate. Even Jon wasn’t quick
enough to catch that last cookie, Damian slapped his hand away before he could.

She may not have superhuman senses, but Brooklyn could’ve sworn she heard a faint ‘thank
you’ from the kryptonian as she returned to her seat. Seeing as the Kryptonian would stay a
little longer, and was apparently the Wayne's ride back home, she handed him a few pillows
to get comfortable seeing as it might be a while till they finished their work for the day.

Watching as Jon beamed at the kindness and the food, all her doubts about him seemed to
evaporate at a quicker rate. He was back to the innocent kid she'd grown to know. Brooklyn's
ease was enough for her to go back to scanning the documents before her without bothering
to keep an eye on her latest guest, but she did catch something akin to shock on Damian's
face at the entire exchange before he settled by her side.

Brook raised an eyebrow at him, but the Wayne merely shrugged and turned back to the small
map. Whatever Damian had to say of her reluctant offer of peace with his best friend, he’d
apparently keep to himself.

"We could alternate shifts, but that might give us away," Brooklyn mused, clumping her hair
together and pulling it in frustration. That was a risk she knew neither of them were willing to
make, especially when neither teen knew what kind of escort the Joker had…or what
weapons.
Damian was about to suggest something, yet suddenly Jon was already leaning over the table,
scanning everything with wide eyes, mouth agape as he looked between both ex-assassins.
She’d assumed he’d just sit tight, if not a bit bored, until his 'Air Taxi' services were
required.

Apparently not.

"Wait a second, this isn’t the history project Damian mentioned! What are you two doing!?"
Jon exclaimed, not at all in the scolding tone Pepper often used, but with something akin
to...excitement?

Brooklyn had a better grasp about Jon Kent being relatively docile, but she didn't know if he
could be trusted with this information or to keep it a secret. So, in a moment of either
immense maturity or incredible foolishness, she turned to Damian and let him decide what to
tell his best friend.

Turned out, Jon knew quite a lot already. He knew about the weapons seeing as he HAD been
the ‘bed-sheet ghost’ on the roof of the Tracksuit Dracula club as she’d suspected. Damian
had only been brief about what happened in Gotham on Friday, but Jon knew enough that it
became crystal clear what the two were planning with little need to spell it out for him.

"You two are actually working together on this behind everyone's backs!?...That's insane!
Count me in, I wanna join this investigation! Please!" Jon said, levitating over the table to
stand between the two teens, his taller frame jumping up and down between their stoic selves
like a child begging his parents for dessert.

"No," both teens commanded in surprising unison, which only caused Jon to begin whining
again.

"This is espionage, not child's play," Brooklyn said, cutting him off as she gestured to the
papers before them, "The Wayne and I have some semblance of advanced training to not only
defend ourselves but others, and I have the espionage skills to keep us hidden. Having you
around could get you injured, or worse, killed by one of those alien weapons. Haven't you
wondered if their being from space could affect someone as untouchable as your kind?"

Damian, to her surprise, nodded along with arms crossed on his chest as he added, "You
haven't even begun Justice League training yet. If you get hurt, I'll be responsible and I'll
have to answer to not only our fathers, but the rest of the League. Plus, you still get constant
pain and agony if you overuse your abilities, and during a fight you just might have to push
yourself to survive"

Oh right, because those two just casually hung out with the Justice League just as she did
with the Avengers...

"But I can help! I have X-ray vision which could scan our surroundings better! I can fly too if
we need a quick getaway! And unless they somehow have kryptonite, I'll heal in seconds!"
Jon said.
Brooklyn had no clue what kryptonite was, but if that was his only weakness, maybe Jon
would be of use. Something told her he wasn't supposed to say that, but he didn’t retract the
words…perhaps as a form of trust. As much as she hated to depend on others, she couldn't
deny his skill set.

Damian on the other hand, still looked very happy. The Wayne glared at his best friend, but
not in the way he had at Peter and Ned earlier. This was subdued, a reserved kindness for an
ally even if most wouldn't be able to tell the difference. This was scolding a puppy, not
promising death to an adversary.

"Your skills are not entirely developed yet, you can't even carry the two of us out if we
needed it. Since you'd obviously save me in one of those situations, we'd be leaving Stark to
die, or worse to be captured for information," Damian said.

Brooklyn had every intention of punching Damian in the arm for that comment about the
little value of her life, but the gentle thud that echoed across the space wasn’t because of
her…something else had landed on her balcony. It appeared that she'd have to buy some sort
of special lock for that door if everyone just felt like dropping in.

To her surprise, it wasn't another of Damian's allies…she supposed that on paper, it was
actually one of her own.

Spider-man had his hands raised in the air when he noticed she and Damian had drawn their
weapons, both ready for a fight. When she truly realized it was him, Brooklyn let out a string
of vulgar Russian curses before she removed her hand from atop the Stark watch, which she
had not yet activated.

Damian took a little longer to lower his own weapon akin to the one she’d left on the floor,
but after she turned back to shoot him a single nod, he slowly lowered the dagger. Between
them, Jon’s body relaxed ever so slightly.

"Sorry to intrude, but I overhead all that stuff about the weapons and well…I can help with
that too!" the hero said excitedly, as if he hadn't just admitted to spying on them.

Remembering the fact that she was no longer too mad at him for what he’d said, she walked
over to the masked hero and only quickly hit him in the shoulder once as punishment for
scaring her half to death. Dad had mentioned once or twice that he might drop by one day to
check on her, and Spider-man didn’t need to give her a heart attack at the thought of him
arriving and seeing enemies in her home.

At her glare, Spider-man had the good sense to look a bit sheepish, his gloved hand rubbing
the back of his mask nervously.

"Look, I'm sorry! I was out on patrols and thought it might be nice to drop by and see you!"
he admitted, as if that was a proper excuse for lingering outside her home. Brooklyn did find
it odd that the hero would take the time to show up at her doorstep so late, figuring there had
to be a different motive for such a thing.
A quick scan of his suit-covered body showed he was not hurt, no ripped seams or signs of
blood, that he hadn't been in a bind tonight for him to come for help.

"Next time you better...never mind, just call next time so I don't blast you all the way to
Manhattan," Brook said, rolling her eyes at the clear smile under his mask she could hear by
his confirmation alone. Seeing the two teens behind her wearing puzzled looks, Brooklyn
realized neither of them had been properly introduced at that club that night.

With a sigh, the girl pointed to the people in the room, "Spidy, this is my greatest enemy, and
the other one is a kryptonian. They both go to my school, don't bother asking why they’re
here so late"

Jon was the first to walk up to Spider-man, eagerly shaking his hand with those sky-blue eyes
of his looking bright and joyful as the kryptonian in question said, "It's such an honor to meet
you! You are one of my favorite heroes! I even got a Spider-man phone case, see!"

When Jon took out his phone, he did in fact have a black spider symbol amidst a red and blue
background that matched the colors of Spider-man’s suit. That in itself was all kinds of weird,
so Brooklyn blocked it out of her mind and shot Damian an incredulous look.

But it appeared that Jon wasn't the only one who was excited.

Spider-man was practically bouncing with elation as he shook Jon's hand back, his deep
artificial voice replying, "I can’t believe it, you have super strength too! Cool! I can't believe
you're a kryptonian like Superman!"

Jon beamed at the praise, but Brook and Damian could only shake their heads at the
exchange. Their allies were idiots…

When Spidy turned to Damian for a handshake, the Wayne didn’t offer one, so the hero took
his hand back and sheepishly muttered, "Um, you’re the Wayne heir right? The guy from that
night at the club that Brooklyn said was an assassin. That's cool!"

That last part had to have been forced politeness, no one could find the assassin profession as
something cool. Damian was not amused or angry his past had been shared, likely because he
was in no place to complain after telling Jon about her own past.

"I don’t care who you think you are, but I'm not an assassin anymore. Since you already
know too much, you might as well know I'm the Robin of Gotham and not a murderer, you
shall address me as such," the Wayne said, causing Spider-man's artificial eyes to widen as
far as they could go. That revelation in itself was enough for the hero to stumble into a
nearby chair, hand on his head as he tried to make sense of what he’d been told about these
strangers.

"So, you're friends with a kryptonian and Robin? When did all of this happen!? Does Mr.
Stark know?" were the first questions out of his mouth. Not entirely unexpected.

Brooklyn immediately went over to him, hauling the hero up from the chair with some
difficulty. Once she was sure she had his attention, Brook said frantically, "First of all, they
are not my friends, we are working on a mission of utmost importance and secrecy. If you tell
my dad he will freak, then I will freak, and I'll end up locked in the Compound doing home
school with Tony and Banner. I’ll make your life miserable if that happens"

Thankfully, it didn't take a lot to convince Spidy of the importance of secrecy, even less for
her to believe him. Seeing as he had kept her secret about the club, she figured maybe he was
trustworthy enough to know about her plans.

When the hero placed his gloved hands atop her arms, soothing their stiffness away, he said
gently, "You’re my partner, of course I'll keep these secrets for you if they mean that much to
you. For all the future has in store for us, I want you to know you can rely on me for things
like these"

Amidst Brooklyn's speechlessness, back at the other end of the table Damian cleared his
throat impatiently, staring holes at the gloved hands still on her shoulders. That glare didn’t
ease up until Spider-man backed away entirely.

What was his deal?

"So You two are partners, as in you're wed?" Damian asked, apparently even surprising
himself by the question, seemingly wanting to take it back.

The comment made Brooklyn back even further away from the hero, fighting the disgust of
the statement as she cleared up, "We're not that kind of partners, you demon! He and I are
part of the next generation of Avengers, SHIELD and my family are training us for that
which means we’re going to be part of the same team…hence being reluctant partners"

From his place at the table, Damian stared at the two of them skeptically, then added in a
voice that was almost bored, "I wouldn't put it past a Stark to be placed in an arranged
marriage. No one would marry you willingly after all"

Brooklyn was seriously considering throwing away their temporary truce to tackle the Wayne
off that chair and out of the balcony, but Jon interrupted her murderous thoughts with a
blissful laugh, raising his hand and announcing with no visible shame, "I would gladly marry
her!"

Her cheeks went ablaze.

"The chelovek-pauk is my 'teammate' and nothing more, and he is not joining this mission!"
she declared, collapsing back down on her chair, wondering how a simple day dedicated to a
history project could’ve possibly turned out like this.

Regardless of her statement, Jon all but beamed at the comment, "Maybe Spider-man should
be part of this too! We need all the help we can get if we are planning anything against the
Joker. He could even help getting Brooklyn to safety since Damian argued I can only fly one
person out in an emergency. You have to admit, this is perfect!"

Spider-man already looked too ready to be on board, as if he’d already decided on getting
involved in what was once a secret mission.
"Absolutely not," Brook countered, halting the high-five the kryptonian and Spidy were in the
middle of, "Underoos is not getting involved in something like this, not when he too is still in
training"

Spider-man practically ran over to her, crouching down before her seated form to be at eye
level. This close, Brooklyn could feel the heat of him from where he kneeled practically
between her legs.

The hero's voice, despite being altered, sounded slightly more high pitched as he argued,
"Brook! We are supposed to be partners…er, teammates in the future! This will be good
practice for us! Plus, two Avengers are better than one, and this is issue involves Queens,
which I am tasked with keeping safe and know best"

Darn it.

Damian was already shaking his head beside her, but Brooklyn was already silently nodding,
sending the hero and Jon running around the room in victory. Something told her this would
be a grave mistake if not now, then in the future, but she’d been left no room to argue.

After both she and Damian accepted their most unfortunate fate, they hauled the other two to
stand around the table as they explained all they knew and the difficulties they might face in
the future. They still had to not only scan traffic for the area and even try and do a sweep of
the dead cameras all over the street to even be close to following through with a proper plan.

That's when Spidy raised his hand enthusiastically as if he were in a classroom.

"I know someone who can be 'the guy in the chair', finding out those kinds of specifics and
such. He can definitely get all this stuff done, he's a great tech wiz…and before you ask
Brooklyn, he's not from SHIELD, we can trust him to keep this secret"

It was already late and sleep was beckoning her, but she still had the mind to ask, "Who
exactly is this ‘guy in the chair’?"

The hero merely settled on the chair behind him, "I can't tell you guys, he’s very keen about
his secret identity like I am, but he's our age as well. But I can contact him and get it all done
quickly, he'll be happy to help"

The three nodded, if only because that could speed up this mess. Even Damian agreed that
having someone behind a computer during a mission was a decent plan, one he and his
family often utilized during missions.

By the time the final plan had been set up for tomorrow, along with at least four backup plans
and three exit routes, everyone leaned back on their chairs in the dining room table in
exhaustion. The lights above them and the ones in her balcony were the only source of light
around them, the sky already immensely dark outside.

When Brook began gathering the dishes, Jon moved to her side and announced happily, "You
know, this is kinda great, it's like we're a team! Just like our dads Damian!"
Looking up from the other side of the table where Damian was closing their books, the teen
frowned.

"We’re not a team. Stark and I are in a temporary truce and-" Damian was cut off by a
chipper Jon, who was already staring at the people around the table with unrestrained
excitement.

"Sure, whatever! But this is like our own Justice League or group of Avengers! Since
Brooklyn and Spider-man are technically training to be the next Avengers, does that make me
and Damian like you two?"

Once again, as if they both shared a joined brain, Brook and Damian said unenthusiastically,
"Not a chance," to which Brooklyn added, "After this issue is solved we will never speak to
one another again. We're not Mystery Incorporated, calm down""

Spider-man, of course, was on board with this messy team theory already.

"We’re fighting bad guys together now, that practically makes us a team! Remember what
your dad said Brook, this is the dynasty of the Avengers! Here we are, a group of people
skilled enough to keep the world safe. Maybe once this is all over we can tell Wanda so she
can join too!" the hero said, once again bringing back that headache that never seemed to
vanish.

"You mean the Scarlet Witch! You know her! She should definitely join later, she's crazy
powerful!" Jon added with a fist in the air

Glancing across the table, Brook noticed Damian was already staring at her, both of them
equally as disgusted at not only having a longer temporary truce that others knew about, but
at the suggestion of being teammates. Brooklyn was sure that when her dad mentioned a
dynasty of Avengers to succeed him, he hadn’t meant for a Wayne to be a part of it.

Besides, what were they but a bunch of misfits compared to her family, the all mighty
Avengers of worldwide legend and praise? Their ‘team’ consisted of two ex-assassins, a
kryptonian, a super-human of some sort, and some teenage human behind a screen. That
didn't sound like much of a legendary cluster of heroes to her, especially since she'd never
been good at the whole ‘team’ situation.

Jon and Spider-man were just crazy.

By the time Jon and Damian had to fly back to Gotham, the mention of being a team was still
swirling around for debate. Her nemesis looked exhausted, but in an act of gallantry that was
likely never going to happen again, he helped her take the dishes to the kitchen. Perhaps it
was only to get away from the ramblings of their ‘allies’. Granted, that spell of kindness was
broken when the Wayne mentioned she'd likely drop the dishes on her own as an explanation
for his unexpected help.

Once in the relative peace of the kitchen, away from the other two who already seemed like
best friends after only minutes of meeting one another, continuing on with their misplaced
excitement on the other side of the wall behind her closed kitchen window-like opening.
Brooklyn began to silently pile the items on a washer, its motor the only sound between her
and Damian until she pulled up her courage to ask something that had been on her mind since
she'd seen him this morning.

"Your arm seems to be doing well," she said, keeping her gaze on the napkins she was
arranging mindlessly. Uselessly was more like it.

Leaning against the kitchen counter behind her, the Wayne sighed, "Obviously. You seem to
be doing just as well, at least right now"

What did he mean by that? She’d been relatively unscathed after the encounter. Unless he
remembered the ancient scars and wounds along her back…

"You were delirious with blood loss, whatever you think you felt, you're wrong. I'm perfectly
fine," she said, turning back to see he had pushed off the table at some point. With the step
she’d taken, the two only had a step’s length between them, the distance startling them both
enough that they backed out but between the cabinets and the small kitchen table, there
wasn't much room to begin with.

"Sure, keep your secrets Stark," Damian said, quickly making his way out the door with his
face hidden from sight, "Just don't mess up the mission tomorrow. Jon and I will be here at
ten pm for when you get back from the Compound, then we head out…together"

Never mind that they'd still have to see one another in school and act like nothing was amiss.
Brook still nodded even if her nemesis couldn't see it, and once she made it out the kitchen,
Jon and Damian were already levitating up into the sky, Spider-man crouching atop her
balcony raining bidding them farewell with a small wave and then one for herself before he
jumped off and into the night.

After all that commotion, the house felt almost empty in their absence.

The hot shower, decent meal, plus the homework and documents pending on the desk in her
room were not enough to distract her from the mess of what happened today hours later.

The Red Room had raised her to discourage teamwork, but the Avengers did quite the
opposite.
Working with Spider-man would already be difficult enough, not to mention an alien and her
mortal enemy added to the mix. But in the face of all this mess, of all the things that could go
wrong with those weapons, could they come together for the sake of sparing the lives of
innocents and perhaps even their families?

Brook had to swallow her displeasure and at least try. Something bad was going to happen
soon, she could practically feel it in her bones. If there was a chance to do something about it,
as a SHIELD agent, it was practically her duty to do so even if she was doing it out of their
jurisdiction.

Once in the confines of her plush bed, after texting her friends that she was still alive and in
no way harmed from a simple history project, Brook instinctively reached into the drawer
beside her, finger hovering over the black button of the device in her hand as she stared at the
hanging polaroids on the wall before her and the darkness of Queens beyond the window
beside her bed.

Such beauty and danger lay amidst those distant buildings and streets.

In an act of exhaustion and stupidity likely induced by that same sleep deprivation, she
flipped the switch of the walkie-talkie, and heard the crackling stop almost instantly.

Unsure why she had contacted him, Brooklyn said into the device, "You got back to
Gotham?"

A tired hum came back as a response, at which point the teen turned off the device and
shoved it back into that drawer along with Robin's dagger.

It was nearly 2 am, why had she done that!? Unsurprisingly, even when the morning rolled
around, she still had no answer for that most troubling question.
 Group of Misfits vs The Joker

Brooklyn POV-

She was barely through the school’s main doors with Harry and Peter by her side, when the
three were ambushed by their two other friends practically sprinting their way. Tanya was
actually the one pulling MJ into a simple trot, but the two still pushed their way past the
rowdy students around them just to tackle Brooklyn into an embrace.

"I thought you'd be dead!" Tanya exclaimed, "Just how did you survive? Don't tell me getting
punished by the principal did any good in getting rid of that old family feud because I know
that's bullshit"

Brooklyn smiled and returned the embrace from both frantic girls. For a second, she basked
in the feeling of knowing she was important enough for them to worry this much on her
behalf. In moments like these where she partook in normal activities, it truly did make Brook
feel like whatever the Red Room had tried to destroy couldn't possibly be completely gone.

"Enemies we may be, but there is one thing we care about more than killing one another, and
that's our grades. There is no way I'll beat Peter as Valedictorian if I fail history, so I made
peace for a few hours," she said with a chuckle, leaving out the part where she and two others
would be going after the Joker tonight in what was most certainly not a ‘normal activity’.

As the group made it to Brooklyn's locker, she was still in the midst of receiving a lecture
from an equally worried Harry about how having to spend more days working on the history
project with the youngest Wayne might actually end in death.

"I swear, one time I saw Damian break a reporter's mic with his bare hands! What if you two
disagree on something? He could break your wrist!" Harry said, only pausing his exaggerated
hand gestures to shoot a wink to some passing girls from the basketball team.

Slamming her locker, Brook leaned against it, an amused smile on her face.

"Not to worry my friend, I got it handled," she said, trying not to brandish some sort of
reaction that equated to mild trust in the Wayne but rather trust in her own safety. It was then
that Peter shifted to gently hold on to her hand, shooting her a small smile.

"She's right, Damian is not gonna do a thing. I saw them yesterday and everything seemed
fine. We should just focus on getting through the week, then on Thursday we can go to the
arcade to cool off our nerves," Peter said, always the voice of reason that eased the group of
friends.

Though she had a mission today, the promise of a fun and normal day spent with friends was
probably the only thing that got her through another boring lecture concerning their latest
literary exploration of Romeo and Juliet. At least MJ seemed to enjoy it, which always put
the teacher in a good mood.
Even when she hadn't seen Damian Wayne all morning, a blessing or a curse she wasn’t sure
of yet, Brook could actually feel when he walked into history class.

They already had their plan for today, so there really was no need to talk to one another
throughout class. Brook easily ignored as he settled on the desk next to her own, intent on a
class spent in peace…only someone did seem to wanna talk to her, but that was Flash with
yet another attempt at asking her out on a date, this time whispering nonsense about having a
convertible they could cruise around in.

Flash had traded his seat with one of his buddies that sat a few seats in front of Brook's row,
which had been the greatest misery of her day. Too bad Mr. Travis was absent today, the poor
substitute had no clue how to get Flash to quiet down so the rest could listen to the unfinished
film on the Cuban Missile Crisis. Brook had done her best to ignore him, pretending to
actually be clueless enough to want to pay attention to the film involving American mutants
involvement during the conflict on screen, and the old video taken by a crew member that
showed a foreign submarine being lifted clean out of the water during the confrontation
between both the United States and the Soviet Union.

If it hadn't been for the recent training with Wanda and Jon's recent reveal of being a
kryptonian, Brooklyn might've been caught off guard by the display of power. But this was
the normality of the world now, people were more powerful, everything was changing, and
all Brooklyn could do as a normal human was to train harder to keep up with the aliens and
the mutants that chose to become a danger to those she cared for..

Her fixation on the video and constant ignoring of Flash’s attempts to catch her eye was only
halted when a folded piece of paper landed on her table. Thinking it was one of Flash's
attempts to get her attention, she dismissed it originally. Then a leg kicked her own, one
belonging to the boy seated on the desk beside her own.

Brooklyn shot the green-eyed Wayne a quick scowl, then under the light of the projector
above, she read the neat handwriting that was in unmistakable assassin code once again.

Dearly detested,

I see you somehow got Thompson's hormones working once again. You better not be
considering going on a stroll with that imbecile, we have a mission to accomplish. Do tell
him to be quiet, he is intervening with my education.

Brook was almost offended that Damian thought she'd go out with Flash. But she couldn't
figure out for the life of her why he felt the need to write to her about it. This mission WAS
important, but Flash's bothersome comments had nothing to do with it.

Perhaps a bit annoyed, she quickly replied with her own mocking address. Her own crumbled
paper landing in the middle of his open notebook.

To whom it may aggravate,

If I haven't been able to get Flash to shut up for weeks, one request now won't change that.
As for your foolish accusation that I would put a student outing before a mission, that just
makes you stupider than I thought. You really think I'd go out with the loud, pretentious, and
self-absorbed Flash? That has to be your best insult yet…and here I thought we’d had a
bonding moment yesterday.

Besides, if we’re speaking about teenage distractions, my friend Tanya told me Myrdred is
going to ask you out today. Good thing you're so focused on this mission, lucky Myldred just
dodged a bullet.

The substitute was too busy with her gaze locked on her phone, so Brooklyn dared a peek at
her nemesis, only to see him roll his eyes and scribble frantically on the last available corner
on the paper. When he hurled it at her face, Brook caught it just in time before it smacked her
forehead with a single hand, shooting him a triumphant smirk before making out the symbols
on the crumpled paper.

To my significant bother,

Bonding moment? I hardly call being roped into a group mission as a bonding moment,
especially one involving a Stark. I'm also not aware of a person named Myldred, she is
wasting her time trying to pursue me.

As for your escapades, perhaps they don’t involve Thompson. But I am willing to bet people
like Parker and Osborn are more probable victims of your company. Maybe that spider
teammate of yours as well, he seemed awfully close to you.

Just focus on the mission, nothing else matters.

What a cold hearted bastard. She crumpled the paper and ignored his oddly bitter scowl
entirely.

Poor Myldred HAD dodged a bullet, yet the thought of that loud and boisterous girl getting
rejected by Damian did put a smile on her face, because Brook was apparently still cruel
enough that she enjoyed other's pain. There was no other explanation for her cruel joy, seeing
as she had no real problem or even knew her classmate that well. How odd.

On the way to their next class, Damian rushed out as per usual in an attempt to keep them
from walking together towards the gym. Maybe he actually did it to torture her, just so she'd
have to be in Flash's company.

Bastard.

Today though, it seemed the Wayne rushed out too quickly, because a small black notebook
fell out of his bag and onto his seat. When he didn’t turn back for it, Brook pocketed her
supplies and the note from Damian before picking it up and subtly placing the mysterious
leather-bound book in her bag.

She'd see him later anyways, then Brook could return it if she was feeling nice. But
something about the unusual wear and thickness of the small notebook made her curious,
enough so that she didn't return it during gym. When she made it to Engineering, that's when
after only a short period of hesitation she opened it up…curiosity fueled by Damian's
distressed expression during the tennis practice exercise that had kept them busy all class,
enough worry that he walked up to her afterwards and asked if she'd seen it.

Her friends had been startled by his arrival to their little group to say the least, Ned almost
paled a dangerous shade at Damian's angered glare. Of course, she'd denied knowing
anything about it, didn't even dare open it up in Calculus since Jon was her desk partner…one
loyal to Damian and equipped with enhanced senses. At least Jon had been in a good mood
today, whispering about the mission at the beginning of class enough that Brook had to
remind him to relax and keep it a secret.

Who knew Kryptonians had the power to be so chatty…

Sneaking the notebook beside her small engineering project, Brooklyn set down her tools and
apologized to her unfinished robot as she ran hand through the black cover of Damian’s
possession. The teacher's instructions were nothing but background noise as she opened the
first page, expecting to see his daily schedule or maybe even notes on Gotham’s criminals…
definitely not a very detailed drawing of a cat lazily sprawled before a large chimney.

She'd almost closed the book then, knowing now she'd come across something personal. It
was that fear of privacy breaching that had kept Brooklyn from sorting through Damian's
belongings when she'd kept his backpack in her apartment after what happened in Gotham.
They may be enemies, and it would be useful to gather more intel on her mysterious nemesis,
but for some reason she hadn’t been able to breach that line. Maybe it was because they
already shared too many secrets, had a few things in common, that she knew not to explore
an ex-assassins belongings.

Back then, Brooklyn had dismissed her curiosity by the single thought that she already had
him figured out. These past few days had shifted that theory, made her question her perceived
truths more and more...which is why she flipped onto the next page.

A city shrouded in the beauty of the night. The next page contained detailed mountains
covered in blinding white snow. A courtyard with bloody katanas discarded on the floor and
training students covered in black cloth in the distance. That dog of his was in many of the
pages in different positions, and there were even some pages that detailed rooms she'd seen in
the Wayne Manor.

All the drawings contained exquisite detail, enough that Brook was beginning to wonder if
he'd drawn them himself or had a way to transfer photos into hand-made art. How could
someone so cold and calculating be capable of such a bright eye in the art? That was her
constant question as each drawing became more exquisite than the last.

The last few used pages in the notebook were not like the first. Those were not just sketched
with a black pen or the graphite of a pencil, they had color. Small birds amidst flight were
drawn in one, a round of Robins she realized, all with delicately colored orange chests and
gray backs that almost looked like the softest of browns under the artificially drawn light.

Other pages contained only snippets of drawings, as if he'd been too lazy to finish them or
wanted to fit as many different unfinished ideas in a page as possible. They were simple
objects, a set of deep maroon heels, a worn out rogue lipstick bottle, an eye with voluminous
lashes of the softest chocolate brown shade. Some of the little sketches were larger in size
and detail, like the hourglass tipping over a blade, or the long hair visible through a curtain of
rain.

That page as well as those who followed, all containing pieces of an unknown puzzle had
some of the drawings ruined by angry scribbles that hid the original work from her eyes. As
if he'd hated them enough to discard them from sight.

With each page, Brooklyn became more and more mesmerized not just by the detail and
beauty in what she could only describe as frantic sketches, but because...this was Damian
Wayne. At least a side of him she shouldn't know about. This was the teen who frowned and
glared at anyone who held his gaze for too long, the one who hated physical contact…but
fought to keep Gotham safe regardless of his own safety. This was the vegetarian who owned
a dog that guarded him in bed, the teen that had a large family of dangerous vigilantes who
worried about him enough to avenge him without a second thought. The one who pushed his
past as an assassin aside by choice.

In a moment of utter shock, she realized he was something more...Damian Wayne was an
artist. The dictate touch he must've used for this art alone was unimaginable, even if she’d
unknowingly seen a snippet of it during their punishment with the young kids as he taught
them how to mix colors. He observed things, captured them with a skill anyone would be
envious of.

It startled her so much, the impossibility of him sitting down somewhere sketching for no
pressing purpose with that focused expression of his from yesterday that was oddly serene,
that the girl didn't open the book again. She didn't even dare look at the Wayne and Jon
during lunch, which was difficult considering they all sat at opposite ends of the same table.

Not even when Brook walked home with Peter, or when she made it to the Compound did she
dare think of the implications of such a hobby for such a guy. At least the intensity of training
with SHIELD that day made her forget for even just a few minutes that maybe there was
more to Damian Wayne that she was willing to see.

There being more would complicate things, which is why she didn't even acknowledge in her
head that Damian was a good artist...that he might even be a decent human being that she
could actually trust fully in this mission.

After the third stare, she'd had enough.

"We're supposed to be watching the streets, not admiring me," Brook said from her place
crouched on the rooftop of the small nightclub. Beside her, Damian was clad in his Robin
suit, and even in the darkness of the night, she could see as the teen shot her a gloved middle
finger.

"I'm not admiring you, you just look very different," he whispered back, "But was the change
of hair color really necessary?"
Damian was referring to the silver wig she'd thrown on at the last second. It was the best she
could do to further hide her identity, especially when the black mask Spider-man had offered
her only covered the area around her eyes. It was somewhat like Damian’s own domino mask
now that she thought about it.

Everyone had a way to disguise themselves tonight, even Jon had showed up with a black
tight suit much like Brooklyn's, except his had a small little S engraved on the side, and a red
cape to cover his young physique and aid in flight. When she’d first caught sight of him, Jon
had explained that the S wasn’t for Superman, apparently meant hope in some distant and
nonexistent world. She and Jon may not be vigilantes or heroes with existing suits to mask
their identity, but they’d made due with what they had.

"My identity means as much to me as it does to you," Brooklyn said, "besides, I was going
for the furthest thing from my natural hair color, brown would be too close, the white-silver
matches my skin nicely, makes me look different enough that Spidy thought I was an intruder
in my own home. It works"

The vigilante crouched beside her said nothing else, focusing his gaze down below even
when they were technically early. At least the street lights gave a perfect view of the area
below them, and the music from the club under their feet was faint enough that they could
whisper and still be heard.

Scanning the docile street down below, Brooklyn added with a smirk, "Spidy thought I was
going for a Daenerys Targaryen look…whatever that meant. No matter, Jon said that it suited
me well,"

"Jon is an idiot, especially for complimenting you," Damian replied, looking up at the
darkened skies as if he could spot the teen currently flying the perimeter above the cloud
coverage. Perhaps he could, that domino mask of his was certainly way fancier than her
own.

Brooklyn thought back when she'd seen his friend landing on the roof of the buildings shortly
after she and Spider-man had arrived. Seeing Jon fly had been...it was like Superman had
arrived to save the day, not a bunch of aliens that would try to rip her head off. Maybe
Brooklyn still wasn't ready for hugging or completely letting her guard down around the
kryptonian, at least all traces of thinking of him as an enemy had vanquished.

Progress, however small…or foolish.

Maybe it was because all they had was time, because Brooklyn turned her gaze away from
the street and asked the stoic teen beside her, "So, did you and Jon grow up together or
something? Was there some sort of…Justice League daycare?"

Damian's domino mask obscured the intensity of his eyes, but she was certain they narrowed
when he turned her way. She was hoping he wouldn't see the 'eagerness' in her own orbs at
the prospect of finding out more about him. Seeing all the little inconsistencies that countered
who she thought he was and what his life was really like...it made her far too curious, enough
to risk a katana to the stomach. Enough to risk her own sanity after pondering about it all day.
Taking one final look down below, Damian turned to face Brook fully, black and gold cape
creating a clean space for him to settle down against the small concrete railing on the roof.
Before joining him, she tapped the com device on her ear, asking Spider-man to keep an eye
out on their section for a while, it was almost time to switch shifts anyways.

When she settled beside him, both were still careful to keep a more than healthy space
between them. Brooklyn almost chuckled when she saw he still had a firm grip on his
weapon just as she did, their similar instincts never ceasing to amuse her as well as terrify
her.

In all honesty, Brook had been expecting him to remain silent, ignoring her intrusive
questions altogether. Whether it was because he wanted to pass the time doing something
other than trying not to fall asleep…he actually indulged her.

"Jon and I met when I was ten, because that's when I was dropped off with my father,"
Damian explained, and all previous amusement fell from her features. Staring up at the famed
Robin, the long-standing mantle that now fell to him, Brook could tell he wasn't exactly
pained by the idea of the past…but he was weary of sharing it.

Against her better judgment, as was often the case when the Wayne was involved, Brooklyn
proposed, "Since we have to work together, we might as well know our pasts. I feel like no
decent assassin will trust a person during a conflict if they don't know at least some
semblance of who they’re working with. So how about we trade ‘sob stories’ while we wait?
Then we never have to acknowledge the past again"

Damian was silent for a few seconds, then he inquired, "Will you dare speak of the wounds
on your back I felt that night?"

So that's why he'd tickled her curiosity....the Wayne had inquiries about her too that he
wanted answered. The thing was, she'd never spoken to anyone about the scars, not after all
that had happened in New Orleans, her foster home. Neither Bruce or Natasha were given
details on them either, but she suspected that was not necessary for sestra who likely knew it
from experience.

Could she trust her nemesis with something so personal, just for the sake of getting her own
answers brought on by a simple art notebook?

Maybe that's why the saying 'curiosity killed the cat' existed. She took the bait.

"Fair enough, but you must be equally as honest with me if I’m gonna dig up my past like
that," she whispered back, now playing nervously with the ends of the silver hair that
cascaded down her arm in a fashioned ponytail.

Though there was much Brooklyn was sure she wasn't told that night, she'd gotten a pretty
good image of her nemesis’ past in the ten minutes he deigned to share his story without
interruptions. The thing was, Brook wasn't sure she could've interrupted, not as she slowly
realized they had more in common than she originally predicted.
Damian's mom was an assassin of the League, someone with a high rank amongst them. In
the quest for a perfect offspring for the League, she tricked Bruce Wayne into...the devil's
tango. Damian had been vague about what came next, but from Brook's understanding he'd
been grown in an artificial womb, born the genetically engineered son of the Batman.

Much like her own beginnings, he too had been originally intended to kill and replace his
famed father. Thus he was trained to become the best among the assassins, and though Robin
never said it, she assumed that meant he trained under the tutelage of the one and only Ra's al
Ghul.

No wonder he was so skilled.

The second half of that reluctant conversation had been equally as vague. As Brooklyn
already knew, the League was attacked years later and left in shambles without its leader.
That's why Damian's mom had likely defined her superior’s orders and dropped him off in
Gotham, to keep him safe. Brooklyn guessed he became attached to his father at some point
after that, because the Wayne soon assumed the mantle of Robin even when he was barely ten
years old.

"Did you ever avenge your people?" Brooklyn found herself asking, her first interruption
during the tale.

Damian smirked, twirling the bat-shaped throwing weapon in hand with ease, its metallic
sheen capturing the light of the nightclub’s neon sign every time it spun in the air. A symbol
of his heritage, of his father, the famous Dark Knight.

"Yes, but I did it under father's terms. I didn’t kill the man responsible if that's what you’re
asking, but he did die by his own demise. I seeked Justice, not vengeance, and in a way it felt
as though I’d passed a test. So I stayed in Gotham afterwards, never looked back," he replied,
then gave her a pointed stare indicating it was her turn to share.

So...she did.

Unlike Damian's story, hers was not filled with much arrogance or intense battles. Though
Brooklyn tried to keep it as honest yet vague as possible, even she could hear the tone of
reluctance in her own voice.

She explained the circumstances of her birth in Russia, her purpose and mission that she
never got to fulfill. Brooklyn didn't often think of the early years in the Red Room, not of the
harsh trials, the constant killing of her fellow sestras that she wasn't sure whether or not
Damian would judge her for. The Stark spoke briefly of Ivan's harsh training and that which
her own ‘mother’ enacted on her, but she left out the part where she was supposed to inherit
the Red Room. He’d trained under his guild’s leader anyways, he’d known enough of what
she spoke of because of it.

Brook did touch up on the... punishments for anything less than perfection, the lack of
medical help for such wounds that resulted in the marks that now decorated her back. When
she briefly mentioned being handcuffed to her bed every night, she could see Damian's
attention turn to the hidden skin underneath her watch, but thankfully, he did not speak up on
her slip up nor could he see any of the scaring thanks to her sleeves.

She must've been so lost in the past, because Brook found herself mentioning the cold winters
of her youth, the constant pain, anger, and the nerve-wracking need to do anything to stay
alive...until she got to thinking about her dad. Though she did talk about the day Brooklyn
left the Red Room, it wasn't that part that became hard to talk about.

It was what came after.

"I was given a name, documents, and a tragic past by SHIELD to pass off as a normal
orphan. Then they shoved me in an orphanage home to make sure I wouldn't go killing
everything I saw. But I was seven years old, one of the oldest girls there...and I wasn't about
to kill younger kids now that I wasn't ordered to. Once some faceless agent deemed me
worthy to get back into society, that's when I was adopted by a family," Brook said, pausing
to try and gather what of those years she should mention, at the end she opened for none of it.

Arms resting comfortably on her folded knees, Brooklyn leaned back against the concrete to
stare up at the dark sky, pulling memories as if from the stars themselves.

"I lived with that family until I was ten, but I was never taken to school or anything. So, I left
on a whim to New York, not that they cared. I thought maybe I could see my real father, see
the man that was on TV all the time. It was one thing being told your dad was a rich
womanizer, but another entirely when I found out he was a hero. Maybe I just wanted to see
him in person at least once, even from a distance. I used to stare up at the Stark tower most
days hoping to see him fly by in that suit of his, but alleys have shitty views. It wasn't until
the battle of New York that I saw him up close, after that I left for Brooklyn, if only because
that was the first city I'd seen when I arrived to this country"

"Then your father found you?"

Brooklyn wanted to laugh, if only that had been the case. If only she hadn’t wasted so many
years clinging to her past, rotting away all on her lonesome.

"No. He was too busy not knowing I existed and saving the world. So I built my own life,
enrolled in a private school at twelve, started working at thirteen, got a shitty flat not long
after. But it wasn't until a few months ago that we met by coincidence, when I was recruited
for SHIELD because of my…skill set"

Some part of Brooklyn was still terrified of what could've happened if she hadn't taken that
shortcut home that day when she and Spider-man became acquainted. She would've been
deprived of this family and life she cherished so much now.

"Then my identity came out to the Avengers," Brooklyn said with a sigh, "and then the world
found out. Now I'm here on a dirty rooftop waiting for a clown to arrive...but I actually don't
mind. Now that I have a family, I will gladly fight for it. Whatever it takes"

Damian was quiet after that, enough so that Brooklyn turned to keep an eye on the street
again. It's not like she was expecting anything else out of him, and at least he wasn't
outwardly judging her for anything of the past, probably because he'd done his fair share of
killing as a child as well, enough that even the notion of animal murder had apparently turned
him vegetarian.

Once she got in contact with Spidy and Jon through her earpiece, both reporting all was still
quiet, Brook relaxed a little. Finally riding down the tense waves of the past. But she wasn't
free of it yet...

"What was your name before SHIELD gave you one?" Damian asked, situating himself
beside her as he too began to scan the ground for even the smallest movement.

His comment startled her slightly, mostly because out of all things he could ask...that was it?
It almost made the shadow of the past disappear instantly, certainly bringing a small smile to
her face.

"Maybe I'll tell you one day. That's awfully personal information to tell my greatest enemy,"
she mused, earning her a light shove on the shoulder.

Then her com device turned on just as an alert from their 'guy in a chair' picked up
something entering the block.

Jon began frantically whispering into the earpiece, "A van is headed your way, tinted
windows, and I think it might be reinforced somehow. Your guns likely won't make a dent on
it...and there are…seven people inside"

Spider-man was quick to reply, "The buildings are close enough that I can try and web it up
between them if Jon can focus his strength to lift it"

Brooklyn scanned the ground, happy to see there were very few pedestrians, mostly drunk
people coming out of the club and wild ones making their way inside. Meaning no casualties
if they played their cards right. Both her and Damian shared a look that spoke a thousand
words.

It was Robin that spoke up to the group, "Let them come out, see where they are going here.
If they go inside the nightclub we attack, keep the drunk idiots in there safe,"

Brooklyn nodded as she checked her Stark watch, making sure the signal from the Joker was
in that incoming black van. It was.

"I sure hope you stick to that justice not vengeance thing, because killing the Joker might be
easier than you think tonight," she mused, but Damian was already firing a grappling-hook
towards the building before them in case he needed to swing down and engage.

"My father has been fighting the Joker for decades," he said, "The Joker may be an imbecile,
but he is no fool. That clown has shown time and time again that he always has many tricks
up his sleeves."

Unfortunately, that was one of the few things she couldn't argue with him on. He knew the
joker best, they had a long history that expanded all the way to his father’s own experiences,
and in this instance, Damian was correct.

When the Joker came out of the tank-like vehicle parked across from the lively club, he had
an entourage of four following after him. Brooklyn couldn’t help but curse internally when
she noticed his goons weren’t ordinary security, but rather mutants, and not shy about it
either.

One had hand-sized spikes down his back, crouching like an animal about to pounce with a
malicious smile on his face. The two beside him were likely twins of some sort, identical in
more than just looks and large-built bodies, but also because of the scorching fire pooling on
their hands that lit up the dim street. The last was a woman who remained close to the Joker's
side, she was petite and rather frail looking, and were it not for the moving tattoos swirling
around her mostly exposed body, then Brooklyn would’ve assumed she was human.

The Joker himself was wearing a black suit that was visibly stained with gravel and what
could've been a spilled drink on his shoulder…or more probable, blood. Though she’d only
had one previous encounter with the clown of Gotham, something told her he didn’t often
stray from his chipper attitude, that same unnerving pale makeup paired with that large red-
stained smile visible even from a distance.

By the time two others —who mercifully looked to be human— came out with large alien
weapons the size of rocket launchers, Brooklyn and Damian were already in motion. She,
sliding one-handed down a nearby rusty pipe that went down the length of the club. He,
effortlessly swinging across the street towards the cover of shadows in an alley.

But they had miscalculated...the attack didn’t turn to the club or the bank where she and the
other three teens were standing by, ready to defend. Instead, the enemy entourage turned to
one of the businesses neither the Red Room spy nor the League assassin had thought to
consider a possible target. Slowly, almost smugly, the Joker led the way to a building she’d
memorized to be a simple Seafood Restaurant —that despite all its neighbors turning in for
the night, still had its lights on— yet it was only seconds upon realization that it would be
their target that the joker’s cronies had already enacted their orders.

There was nothing any of them could do as the delicate closed sign was all but scattered
along with the man doors by a simple glowing shot from one of the alien weapons. Its debris
and blue glow had Brooklyn covering her eyes against the light, and once she was able to
look around the wall of her own alley again, Brooklyn noticed the explosion had mercifully
not destroyed the building, but it did create an awfully large sound and an aftershock that sent
all but Jon unsteady on their feet.

In the chaos of that moment, Brooklyn barely shouted an order into the coms for Spider-man
to rush the civilians off the street as fast as he could. There were a few unconscious bodies
scattered along the ends of the street, all having been blown back by the aftershock. Brook
was willing to wager they were only stunned, but if they remained there, those bodies would
most certainly become innocent casualties.

Once Brook noticed Spider-man swinging around to pick them off towards the various roofs
around them, Damian asked Jon to go hide in the shadows and only come out when things
got difficult. Better to have a secret element of surprise if things got rough.
With no time to come up with a new strategy, she and Damian exited their adjacent alleys,
using the cloud of dust and debris to their advantage as they slowly convened in the middle
of the lonely road towards the entourage of villains as faint screams from those within the
nearby buildings continued all around them, the sound of the loud music from the club still
going strong.

Both she and Damian brandished their weapons, he unsheathing the glowing katanas across
his back, and Brooklyn removing the stun guns she'd stolen from the SHIELD building after
training from their holsters at her sides. Well…stealing wasn't necessarily the right term,
more like Adonis had turned a blind eye and handed them over as a reward for her great
performance when she’d expressed a mild worry for her safety back in Queens.

It hadn’t been a complete lie, only the safety of everyone in Queens was in peril, and she’d
use them not only to defend herself, but others as well. Semantics.

The unmistakable clicking from loading of her guns and the ominous twirling of Damian's
blades caught the attention of the enemy group, and though it might seem impossible, the
Joker's smirk widened even further as he beheld Robin walking down the street towards him.
She might’ve sworn the crimson pointed-ends of it could’ve reached his temples.

It took all her years of training to keep emotions at bay, an important thing to do before an
enemy so as to not give any advantages. Brooklyn had to push back memories of what the
clown had wanted to do to Damian, providing a slow and painful death, as the Joker's scarred
and battered grin looked as if it might split his face in half like in a horror movie.

She could’ve sworn the Joker’s tongue had been intact last time they met, but now it rested
against his smile like a serpent’s appendage. It reminded her of something that Damian had
said during their research frenzy…the man was crazy enough to slice his tongue down the
middle for fun.

Even though this real-life version of Pennywise was likely the weakest of the enemy bunch,
being weaponless and all, he had the ability to unnerve her to a slight degree. No easy feat to
accomplish against a Red Room widow who’d been born in the darkness where nightmares
reigned.

Dissolving her nerves, Brook stuck by Damian’s side, and neither masked teen broke off their
placid looks as the Joker began laughing like a crazed man, not even as he said, "My old
friends! You've come to die! How interesting to see the little Robin so far from the nest, I was
not expecting to see you for a long time!"

Neither teen seemed particularly keen to reply, they just stalked closer like silent grim
reapers, hoping that their distraction was enough for Spidy to get people off the streets in
time.

When Brooklyn pointed a gun at the Joker, his crew of mutants instantly moved to protect
him, but the crazy clown still peeked over their broad shoulders, his focus now entirely on
her.
"I remember you! You may look a little different…but I’d remember you anywhere after our
last dance. Are you one of the Batman's newly adopted sacrifices, my dear? Has he sent me
another little Robin to kill?"

Being addressed as Bruce Wayne's offspring was by far one of the greatest insults she'd ever
received, but despite the urge to deny any association with her dad’s enemy, Brooklyn didn't
bother with a response as she fired a tranquilizing bullet his way...one which the twins before
him incinerated last minute with a single lift if their hands.

They had shot out those vibrant flames like it was nothing, even at that distance Brooklyn
had felt the heat emitting from them. Once the flames receded and nothing but smoke and
small specks of glowing embers remained between the opposing sides, Brook felt something
in her ease, the waves of focused calm before a battle taking over her mind.

That warning shot had been enough for the mutants to gain some sort of confidence, because
without waiting for orders, they quickly rushed to attack. Their bodies lit up by the remnants
of the fire amidst the darkness of the night.

"I'll take on the two on the left, you handle the right. We won't call...you know who until
we’ve guided them away from the civilian buildings," Damian whispered not only to her but
to those listening in on the coms.

Despite the incoming attack and the deplorable situation they were in, it was Jon’s voice that
almost cracked a smile on her face as he said, "What do you mean 'you know who'? I've told
you for years to call me Superboy"

"Fine," she replied before Damian could begin an argument about how much he didn't want
to do just that, "we fight and if need be, Superboy comes to help. Spidy will handle the
weapons once he’s done," Brook added, but didn't really pay much attention to see if her own
orders were followed as her assigned mutants shot a blazing projectile of fire right at her.

The Stark barely dogged in time, leaving Damian on his own as he began running along the
wall of a building to take down the guy crawling along it like a lizard.

Of course that insufferable Wayne had left her in charge of the human flame throwers.

Fantastic.

As she slid into a battle-ready crouch on the side of the road, Brook pushed back her
annoyance and fired at the twins before they could think to shoot Damian down. She wasn’t
expecting any of her projectiles to hit home, not before being incinerated. Mostly her efforts
were to keep the mutants busy, but it was also to test out their agility, their weak spots, to
figure out if they had some limit on their abilities she could exploit to wear them out.

It certainly wasn’t to save the demon’s hide while he was busy fighting that reptilian-like
monster.

Many incinerated shots later, the two mutants were still going strong, so much so that the heat
of their flames chased away the cold of the night around her. Brooklyn had to dodge, roll, and
jump out of the way of too many flames to be comfortable with, but thankfully her enemies
were in desperate need for some target practice. She’d sustained no injuries as of yet.

Then when she finally managed to get close enough after her strategic corralling shots, Brook
discarded her stun guns, fished out Damian's dagger, and lunged at the pair from atop a
vehicle behind them. Before either of them could notice she had moved positions, the Stark
was already coming down from the air, situating her legs atop their shoulders and running the
blade across their raised hands in a manner of seconds.

The two dark-skinned and red-eyed men immediately tumbled to the ground, their pain
tolerance weak enough that amidst panicked shrieks, Brooklyn was able to summersault to
the floor before their bodies fell, reaching out to bash their heads against a car with enough
force to knock them out cold…no pun intended. All the puns and jokes came from the com
device in her ear, from Spider-man of all people.

After a few steading breaths while standing before the limp bodies of her assigned tasks,
Brook turned around with a bloody dagger in hand, ready to assist her allies when she noticed
them on the other side of the darkened street. Jon had been deployed at some point, flying
just above the ground, fist still formed where he punched the woman who's tattoos finally
stopped moving. Beside him, the cloaked Robin had just knocked out the other mutant with
the hilt of his blade without him even looking out of breath.

In unison, the three turned over to the see Joker leaning against his van, a deck of stained
cards being shuffled in hand. Without any time to waste, the three stalked over to him, soon
joined by Spider-man who dropped down by her side amidst their silent approach. For once,
even the rowdy spider was quiet —probably trying his best to be intimidating— and one
quick glance shared between them and an exchanged nod was enough for Brooklyn to know
all the civilians were safe.

Whatever transpired now, no innocent would have to suffer for it.

As the Joker began laughing maniacally once again while throwing his deck of cards in the
air, Brooklyn whispered a simple command to the hero, "Web the others,"

In seconds, without even faltering a single step, the mutants were webbed to the bricked
walls at their sides, and thus the Joker had no allies left…nowhere to go. Getting to the driver
side of the car would take far too long, and Jon could easily fly over and stop him. It was
with a cold and deadly sneer on her end that she thought it was a ‘shame’ the fool no longer
had that crowbar of his.

As four, the teens stopped right before the car, letting the shadows of the night obscure their
exhaustion. Whatever embers from the fire at the store remained must’ve lit their figures with
an ominous light, enough to probably look deadlier than they were willing to be, older than
they truly were.

"Looks like you're going back to Arkham Asylum, you psychotic murderer" Robin said, a
ghost of a wicked grin on his face when he pointed his katana at the man who'd tried to kill
him only a few days prior. Only this time their encounter had a much different outcome.
"Psychotic? Kid, I’m the Joker. I don’t just randomly kill people. I kill people when it’s
funny. Which means we'll be seeing each other very soon little Robin," the Joker replied
smugly, gaze darkening as he added, "you and yours will pay for this delay, and it might very
well be the funniest punchline I’ve dealt in a long while"

It occurred to her that the Joker didn’t look nearly as unnerved as Brook had hoped. No, he
just bowed in what she'd assumed to be a courteous acceptance of defeat, perhaps even a
mocking gesture before surrender.

With a glint in his green eyes, the Joker raised his last remaining card. It was nothing special,
no golden embellishments for which to try and bribe them with, nothing but a stained white
joker card whose jester had been modified to have an elongated crimson smile like the
Joker’s own.

As soon as that card went up in the air, it didn’t sink to the floor to join its discarded brethren.
Instead, the damn thing exploded into little colorful sparks that were nothing more than a
miniature firework. Though Jon and Peter flinched back a step, it didn't do any harm to any
of them, and the Joker was still standing there defenseless...until someone peeked from
within the seafood place whose front doors had been blown up. One of the ‘non-mutant’ men
who'd come with the Joker was still holding his glowing weapon even when his arms and
legs were webbed together like makeshift handcuffs.

There was no way he'd be able to lift it and fire, she’d thought. But with one press of a side
button, a cruel smile behind a mask that resembled his master, and a rising ticking noise...

"Get down!" she yelled, pushing Jon to cover Damian just before Spider-man grabbed onto
her own arm.

In seconds, a large explosion was triggered, only made bigger by something inside the
business that fueled it. Brooklyn was being pushed down to the gravel by her teammate, but
amidst the slight of the fire expanding towards them, Brook easily flipped their positions
mid-air to push her body atop his own. Even if he was superhuman in a way she didn’t quite
understand yet, even when his own suit might even be fireproof, Brooklyn couldn’t bargain
his life like that..

Spider-man was only here because of her, it was only right she lay her life in his stead. Her
own well being didn't matter much to Brook in that moment, not as the flames rose beyond
the buildings’ heights, nearing their fallen bodies that would likely be scorched to death.

She got lucky though, and if she were a different person, Brook might’ve even called it a
miracle.

The flames must've barely been out of reach from her body, because she felt no burns across
her back in the silence that followed as body landed fully atop Spider-man’s while the shock
wave of the explosion went by. The ground shook hard, noise deafening enough to leave
Brooklyn's ears ringing. But she was alive, Damian and Jon were still intact as well further
down the road where Jon had likely launched themselves at the last minute.
They were the first to come out of their shock, crawling over to her and Spider-man as if they
wanted to ensure they hadn’t sustained any injuries. When they found none, the four lay side
by side on the stained road where debris from the blown up building fell around them as they
panted in exhaustion. Staring at the building aflame before them, its blinding light and
unfixable damage, people within the nearby buildings began daring peeks out their windows
or over rooftops.

Their bodies were still covered by the smoke and ashes from the fire to be seen, but that
didn’t mean they had much time until enough of it drifted away and their masked figures
linked to the crime. Though she didn’t want to even consider the sinking feeling that there
had been innocents inside that building they were too late to save, a new emotion for her to
ponder on later, Brook was quick to stand.

Shaking the debris and her disheveled silver hair out of her face, ignoring the minor aches her
fall had sustained, she pushed herself to action. Their priority had to be to contain the fire
before it spread to the structures beside it and cause more damage. Waiting for authorities to
deal with it might take too long.

"Superboy!" Brooklyn yelled, "Remember that thing about cooling down drinks you
mentioned? Can you do that on a much larger scale?"

Jon looked up at her then, moving from his seated position staring sadly at the fire and onto
his feet in seconds, red cape fluttering against the wind of the flames as he gave a simple nod
and flew up closer to the structure.

Her brain was already spinning and turning, trying to find a way to at least fix this, especially
as she pivoted to the spider laying on the floor.

"How fire resistant are your webs?" she asked quickly, coughing a little from a smoke around
them.

Spider-man got up in one swift movement as well, inspecting the fire before reporting back,
"I’ve never tested it out, but theoretically they can withstand temperatures of 1,000 degrees
Fahrenheit for a few minutes, maybe a half-hour if we're lucky"

After a quick set of instructions to try and hold the integrity of the building as Jon tried to put
out the flames, the Stark rushed over to Damian. Neither of them had superhuman abilities,
their skills with weapons wouldn't do them any good now, but they could help in other
ways...

She pointed at the vermillion fire hydrant across the street.

"If you can open that, I can direct the water to help them," she yelled, noticing his gaze was
not on the fire before them, but locked on a retreating van down the other end of the road.
Brook might’ve been Damian’s enemy, the one person that wasn’t supposed to know him at
all, but she was certain he was debating going after it. Hell, she was as well...but they
couldn't leave these people to die.

There would be other chances to track down the Joker, but only one chance to save lives here.
Which is why Brook quickly moved to stand before him, shaking his shoulders until his gaze
moved from the Joker’s retreating form, down to meet her eyes. The rage within was likely a
culmination of all the things the Joker had done against his father, his injured sister…maybe
even himself. Had that same level of violence not been reflected into her own eyes in the past
more times than she could count, she might’ve actually been afraid of it.

"Robin," she yelled softly, "we'll find him again, you know we can. But we need to help here
now, there are over three hundred civilians here that might not make it out in time, you know
that"

Her grip tightened atop the armored plates atop his shoulders, gaze locked on those angered
eyes of his that were a different shade of green from the Joker’s own. A reminder that
Damian had some semblance of understanding of what right and wrong were, he’d been
Robin for too long to be anything like the clown who’d left people to die.

Some might’ve called it trust, but to Brook, the gaze they exchanged was nothing but an
understanding passing between them. Hunting down the Joker, using their skills to prevent
him from getting away was their main instinct…but they were more than just their original
set of ‘programming’ now. Brooklyn didn’t even have to question his decision after a few
long seconds, she knew what he’d pick…and was oddly relieved by his choice. If he’d picked
the other route, Brooklyn couldn’t explain why, but she would’ve joined him in that pursuit
too.

Damian still growled in frustration at the predicament before him, but sprinted over to the
hydrant with Brook on his tail...away from the Joker. With a couple slashes of his blade,
water started shooting up into the air. Keeping tabs of Spidy's swinging form around the three
story building and Jon's levitating one shooting cooling waves at the structure’s windows,
Brooklyn activated her Stark watch. Without a second to doubt her last minute plan, she fired
stun waves from the metal glove’s palm to redirect the water towards the distant building.

The Wayne had only left her side after they realized her plan was working, instead rushing to
help guide the now wandering drunk nightclub civilians out of the streets, as well as fish out
the people from the buildings beside the fire.

It was grueling work, making sure her shots were timed to perfection, not moving her arm in
the slightest so as to not mess up her trajectory. Peter, atop one of the neighboring buildings,
had a cluster of web strings he was pulling on with every bit of his strength, their ends
attached to all the building's weak points to wrap around like a cocoon. And Jon…the sight of
his billowing red cape amidst the flames reminisced that same feeling of salvation his father
often portrayed. The constant blowing of massive gusts of air from his mouth that tamed any
rising flame had to be exhausting too.

By the time the police and fire trucks finally arrived, Brooklyn's Stark Watch had run out of
stun shots and Jon had exhausted himself putting out most of the fire, but at least he and
Spider-man were still on their feet.

Before the authorities of Queens could question them or even spot them, they made sure the
Joker’s cronies were still rendered immobile with something other than Spidy’s webs before
Damian had guided the four of them towards the shadows, down one of their many planned
escape routes with the robotic voice of their 'guy in a chair' summoned in their coms.

With Damian dealing the way with weapons at the ready, both Spidy and Brook helped keep
Jon afoot, each with an arm around the kryptonian, practically carrying the exhausted teen
towards the park nearby void of people at this hour as they had predicted.

Once in the safety of the shadows, Jon all but collapsed against a tree. Instead of complaining
or crying as she’d expected, he brandished a sweet smile, fist raised in the air triumphantly as
he panted out, "Now that was amazing! We make a good team!"

Brooklyn sat down beside him, well...more like she collapsed on the grass. Gaze on the
dancing leaves above her, Brook considered just falling asleep here even if she wasn’t overly
exhausted herself. It was more so the feeling of her body’s adrenaline dying down, the feeling
of emptiness that followed which could sometimes be more exhausting than the extensive
‘exercise’ she’d just partaken in.

"A building blew up," she whispered, "I don't think that qualifies as a very good job"

Damian surprised Brook by settling down beside her, seemingly not exhausted in the least
unless he was very good at hiding it. He eyed the dual katanas by his side with a look that
spoke volumes of how irritated he was at not being able to use them against the Joker, then
said, "The Joker's reptilian servant mentioned something about their mission during our fight,
that they were there to blow up the building regardless of our intervention. I think he wanted
to take out competition, that store had to have been manufacturing alien weapons in secret"

So that's what caused that chain-reaction explosion…

"That's exactly my point!" Jon said, "Had we not been there, that whole street would've likely
been blown into a blaze of fire and all those people would've died! Plus, the tattoo lady
mentioned something about them going around killing people afterwards to make a
statement, since they’d likely be on their way to jail anyways"

Well, when he put it like that...maybe they had done some good amidst the chaos. The foreign
implication made her pause for a second. The mission had been to spy and perhaps even
apprehend the Joker, but regardless of how much they’d failed on that end, some unexpected
good had come about. Brooklyn had done a good deed not because someone had forced her
to...and the thought alone made her smile as she stared up past the foliage towards the night
sky. Maybe she was cut out for saving people's lives after all, which meant her family and
SHIELD weren’t wasting their efforts.

Laying on her other side, Spider-man let out a joyous chuckle, high-fiving an exhausted Jon
as if the realization of their good deed had just registered for him too.

Even Damian seemed to relax slightly then, taking off his domino mask and at last shifting
his gaze from his weapon. The movement made her realize something, that's when she
noticed he was clutching his arm. He must’ve strained his old injury during the fight.
"Jon, are you alright to fly home?" Brooklyn asked, already moving to inspect Damian's
injury, but he quickly moved away from her touch as soon as he realized she knew something
was amiss.

Behind her Jon barely managed to stand, but his gaze was weary as he replied, "Barely, but I
don't think I can carry Damian back home, not until I've rested"

Damian could take the subway home, but at this hour and with his resurfacing injury, he'd be
vulnerable to any attack the Joker could have out for him. She shouldn’t care if he made it
home or not, as a Stark, she should be mocking him for not being careful enough…perhaps
even for not sitting out the fight when he knew he’d yet to heal.

Spider-man stood up as well, moving to Jon's side.

"I can trail you out of the city just in case flying home suddenly becomes difficult. Where are
you headed?". The words were something Brook barely registered, a conversation she had no
intention of joining when she and Damian were in the middle of a battle of wits, their glaring
intensifying. Why she was challenging him, Brooklyn had no idea. If he insisted all was fine,
then she should’ve just left it at that.

It might’ve been a seemingly normal gesture, but turning away from Damian had felt…
wrong. She wanted to insist on whatever it was her mind was having trouble catching up
with. She wanted to know just how bad his injury was.

Noticing Jon’s smile as he leaned on that giant tree beside Spider-man, Brook couldn't help
but wonder when the two superhumans became such good friends. Jon almost seemed
relieved by the offer, especially as he admitted, "Thank goodness that ‘secret identity’ stuff is
out in the air now, otherwise I would’ve had to make up an excuse about grabbing a taxi. My
dad is in Manhattan for a job, if you don’t mind you can trail me to the hotel to make sure I
don't fall midair. But what about Damian? If I take him with me to the hotel Pa will know we
were up to something, not to mention his siblings must be worried he isn’t home yet"

Damian scoffed, glaring up at the distant branches as if they had offended him personally,
then pointed out, "Just get back to your father, no one is expecting me back anyways seeing
as my siblings and father are busy with patrols, and Pennyworth took Barbara to a therapy
facility overnight. I won't get in trouble for my absence"

Meaning that even if he managed to make it home unscathed, there would be no one to treat
the wounds he might be too proud to acknowledge. He’d be alone, letting today’s failure to
capture the Joker seep into his thoughts…and Brook knew what it was like to linger on
failure especially when one was alone.

No. She really shouldn't. The sudden thoughts in her head were a bad idea, actually it was
worse than bad! It might very well be the stupidest thought she’d ever considered.

But what could Brooklyn do? Let Damian limp back to Gotham only to be home alone? How
many times had she hoped back in the Red Room to have someone care enough for her
injuries, to be there after the battles were finished? Without Alfred Pennyworth there to
pester successfully, Damian would end up at the suffering of his own pride.
Cursing every good influence in her life, the Avengers, Peter Parker, and her parents,
Brooklyn turned away from the guys so as to face the green expanse of the park instead of
their gazes as she said almost too painfully to sound sincere, "Then Damian should stay at my
flat, its a block from here. In the morning once he’s rested, we can meet you at school, Jon"

The park went deadly quiet save for the sound of crickets whose songs seemed to be mocking
her. But Brooklyn had meant the offer, inviting someone into her home would never be a
joking matter. In an attempt to try and reason why that privileged invitation —the first of its
kind— had been granted to her enemy, she wondered if it may have to do with the fact that
she now knew more about Damian's similar past after their talk atop that rooftop. She most
certainly wasn't ready to be his best friend, but their cruel similarities allowed her to trust him
enough that she wouldn't sleep with one eye open.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she couldn't help but frown at the specifics her pathetic
mind hadn’t considered. Spending a few hours alone with the Wayne was one thing, but
offering him safety for an entire night…what was she thinking!?

At the sound of even the crickets dying down, Brook dared to turn, only to notice all three
boys were stunned still. Damian couldn't keep the confusion from his face even if he’d tried.
He said nothing on the matter, probably waiting for Brooklyn to say she was joking. As
tempting as it was to retract that forbidden kindness, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep
from doing so.

She'd done a hero's duty tonight, saved lives without care who they were, even going as far as
sparing the lives of her enemies despite how easily they could've been killed. Offering
sanctuary seemed like something else heroes like her family would do without a second
thought. For a Wayne…it was questionable, but it was the right thing to do.

Jon was actually the one who slowly made his way over to Damian, eyes soft and concerned
as he clutched his friend's arms. Unaware one of those was likely in some degree of
uncomfortable pain, Damian certainly reinforced his efforts to not let it be known.

"I know I'm not the only one who heard the Joker say he was gonna come after the group,
since he doesn't know the rest of us, that makes you his first target. He will expect you to go
back to Gotham tonight, and with no one home and your arm clearly hurting again, you'll
practically be served on a silver platter”

At Damian’s visibly rising anger, Jon slowly raised his hands in an attempt at peace before
adding, “Before you argue, I know you can protect yourself, just don’t take the chance. The
joker doesn't know Brooklyn is under that wig, and even if he did, the last place a person will
look for a Wayne…is with a Stark. Just stay the night and we'll meet up at school tomorrow,
if anyone in your family asks, say you're with me and that we stayed up working on school
stuff at the hotel and I’ll cover for you" Jon said, and when the harshness in Damian's eyes
turned into disgusted reluctance Brooklyn realized what Jon had done.

He'd used unarguable logic, one that neither of the ex-assassins could simply excuse. Only
after Damian slowly nodded in agreement did Jon slowly fly up into the air, testing out his
abilities past the exhaustion clear in the way his tall body sagged.
Spider-man quickly stopped by her side, gloved hand daring to touch her own before she
could make her way to Damian.

"Are you sure you two will be ok alone?" the hero asked, "I know you don't get along but...all
of the Avengers would be very proud of you for what you did today, for being a leader, and
for helping someone you don't particularly like. I guess what I'm trying to say is…that I'M
very proud of you even when that probably doesn't mean much"

Brooklyn had to look around the grassy hills of the park in order to keep her emotions from
becoming visible. Sure, she didn't think too highly of Spider-man, but he was still a much
better person than she was no matter how much it ached her to admit it. If he thought she was
doing even a little bit better...then maybe she really wasn't much like that girl of the past
she’d told the Wayne about today.

She didn't so much as nod in acknowledgement when the spider shot a web past the tree line
and onto a distant post, then flung himself towards Jon, both disappearing into the night with
only the sounds of a cape flapping against the wind and webs meeting their targets.

The Stark couldn't help but quickly whisper, "Maybe you're right, chelovek-pauk, maybe
spiders should stick together"
 Mending Forbidden Wounds

Brooklyn POV-

Once Jon and Spider-man were nothing but distant specks in the night, Brook reached into
the com on her ear and thanked the stranger on the other side for all the help. Whoever that
was past the distorted voice had been of tremendous help, even if her instincts told her not to
trust someone she couldn't see. But Spidy had vouched for that individual…as she supposed
she was about to exercise a different kind of trust with yet another person her instincts told
her not to trust.

She and Damian made quick work of retrieving their hidden bags from behind a few trash
cans, changing into inconspicuous civilian clothing as rapidly as their exhaustion —or in
someone’s case, his wound— would allow. Good thing one of their escape plans had
prepared for the need of additional clothes.

When Damian's hood was up and her own red-coat's hood obscured her own face, they
slowly made their way out of the lonely park, towards her home. Their short walk didn't
include much talking which was not a problem considering Brook had no idea what to say. It
had to have been close to midnight when they silently trekked up to her door, FRIDAY
automatically turning on the lights and welcoming her home. It was then, standing beside her
enemy with the sigh of her home before them that really let the severity of her foolish
decision sink in properly.

She'd willingly let the demon into her own home...

Brook tried to be casual while placing her small duffle bag on the hangar by the door, taking
off her shoes, and with a single hand motion, urged her nemesis to do the same. Though this
was by far the most awkward moment of her existence, Brooklyn still went over to the
kitchen and heated up some pasta for the two of them as Damian texted a clever lie to his
family of his absence.

One quick look at the two of them was enough to see the contrast between their forms and the
clean home around them. Both of them were still covered in soot from the fires, hair askew.
Even when they’d both changed into clean clothes, it felt wrong to wear them when they
were so tired and well... looked like the dead. So once their quick and silent meal seated on
opposite ends of the dinning table was over and they could no longer use food as an excuse
not to say a thing, Brooklyn silently guided Damian to the guest room, a twin to her own in
structure but with no personal touches. Both bedrooms were next to one another, but
thankfully both had their own bathroom.

Damian stared out the window, looking at the city beyond as Brooklyn brought some extra
blankets from the closet out in the hallway. She stared down at the bundle in her arms, some
part of her finding amusement in her hospitality efforts.

"I'll leave some toiletries for you so you can shower. I know Peter and Aunt May are still
awake watching the Bachelor at this time, so I'll see if he can lend me something for you to
sleep in. Otherwise I have a great pair of pink PJs that will look lovely on you," Brook said,
already dreading how she would phrase the odd request to her neighbors in a way that didn’t
involve admitting she had a teenage boy in her apartment. A Wayne of all people.

Despite all they’d faced tonight, it was almost a relief that Damian still had enough sense to
be himself, because he practically threatened her with death if she told anyone he was with
her…or gave him any indecent clothing options. Indecent meaning flamingo pink attire.
Brooklyn had to stifle a smile before instructing him to stay put while she showered and then
went out for a minute to fetch his clothes.

The water was heavenly to her sore muscles, and getting the day's exhaustion off her
shoulders was probably the best reward in the world. But there was something about knowing
Damian was literally on the other side of the bathroom wall that made her hurry through her
routine. It wasn’t fear that he’d attack…more like his unusual presence couldn’t be ignored.

Normally she'd done a tank top most nights, but since she had company that would no doubt
see the scars on her back, Brooklyn huffed and went over to her closet for something warmer.
The fact that he already suspected the damage that was there was enough incentive to pretend
like she had no idea what he was talking about.

After quickly changing into a blue Midtown crewneck and some silk pajama pants, Brooklyn
finally ventured out of her apartment. Before leaving, she was mildly relieved to see Damian
was still in the guest room, seated atop the bed while on the phone talking to someone about
staying with Jon for the night. He’d boasted about no one caring or noticing his absence, but
the person he spoke to must’ve cared enough to call despite the text.

Taking that as her cue to leave, she went two doors down the hallway where Aunt May
opened the door with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

"Oh! Sweetheart how are you!?" May asked, quickly leaving the bowl behind to embrace
Brooklyn in a way that she could now replicate with mild ease. Unsurprisingly, Aunt May
didn’t ask questions as to why she was awake so late, the woman had made it perfectly clear
that coming to her for help at any time of the day or night was more than welcome. A
reassuring kindness.

"I don't want to be too much of a bother, but I was wondering...well, this is gonna sound
weird...can I talk to Peter?"

Aunt May went silent, fixing her large glasses in place as she said, "Sorry Brook...he's
spending the night at Ned's building some lego thing. He said he'll come back late tonight"

Ok, maybe that was a good thing. Last thing she wanted was to have Peter wondering the
implications of her odd request, which would no doubt make her pending talk about their
morning walk to school all the more awkward.

"I know this will sound weird, but I need to borrow some comfortable sleeping clothes from
him. Could you just lend me a T-shirt and some sweats? I'll wash them and bring them back
tomorrow, I promise!" Brooklyn said, watching as May's confused stare turned into
something mischievous. A reaction she hadn’t expected nor knew what to make of.
"You want some of Pete's clothes?" she asked, "No problem, let me go get them!"

Brooklyn was left alone at the front door like a ball of nerves, but once the folded items were
in her hands, she thanked Aunt May profoundly and gladly accepted the invitation to dinner
next week. Brook actually breathed a sigh of relief when all the locks on her door were set,
and after basking in that air of safety, she finally inspected May's picks with a smile.

Unsurprisingly, it was a worn black Death Star shirt the woman had chosen, paired with some
gray sweats that would definitely fit Damian's longer legs. Of course Peter owned all this
nerdy stuff, it even smelled just like him.

When she went to drop them off in the guest room, Brook heard the shower running inside.

Fighting the blush spreading across her cheeks, likely from anger at Damian not waiting for
her to return as she’d instructed, Brook still entered the space with her eyes closed just in
case he was still lounging inside the bedroom. With some difficulty, she dropped off the
clothes atop the blue bed sheets and yelled to nemesis that she'd gotten some things for him.

With that awful task out of the way, Brooklyn went back to the living room and turned on the
TV loud enough that it blocked the sound of the shower her enemy was currently in. One of
these days, Brook would have to thank Agent Hill for getting a place with a spare bedroom,
life would've been much more complicated otherwise in this particular situation.

After about a half hour, Damian came out into the living room clad in Peter's borrowed
clothes, the shirt fitting snugly against his chest to the point that it almost looked small
against his lean yet muscular body, but at least the pants seemed like a closer fit. Brooklyn
noted the way his wet black hair fell around his caramel-colored face like something a
perfume model would look like in a flamboyant commercial.

Those forest green eyes of his were so bright yet guarded against the room’s
illumination....and she wasn’t planning on looking too long at them, they might make her
throw up from disgust.

Now came the hard part…yet another thing she wasn’t entitled to do, but felt the necessity to
get done for her own peace of mind. Knowing he would complain, maybe even threaten her
life, Brooklyn silently pulled him to the main bathroom of the loft where she kept far too
many medical supplies in the various cabinets for emergencies. When she urged him to sit on
the closed toilet, that's when he finally removed her grip from his good arm.

"What are you doing!?" he asked, eyeing the small space that was definitely not meant to be
for two people.

Taking out a white medical kit, she waved it before his face mockingly.

"I can see that bandage of yours isn’t alright, so unless you wanna bleed all over Peter's t-
shirt and explain to him why you had it on in the first place, I suggest you let me fix the
stitches," Brooklyn said, almost smirking when she saw Damian slouch atop the toilet with a
deadly glare.
Looking down at him, this almost felt like a figment of her imagination. An impossible
scenario.

That's when the blood returned to her cheeks with a vengeance, that anger within her rising
when she had to ask him to remove the shirt. Damian looked up at her with an even more
intense glare, his own anger prompting a slight reddening across his own cheeks. She’d
expected a long argument, but he surprisingly removed the shirt without little fuss aside from
some silent curses, revealing a tanned chest and arms decorated with mostly old faded
wounds she could only identify by being this close to him. A warrior’s body. Aside from one
she could barely spot in this position, none looked too deep, they weren’t like her own. The
one on his arm WAS on the brink of bleeding through the bandage.

After meticulously scrubbing her hands under the faucet with alcohol, Brooklyn got the
needle ready and settled the clean bandages atop the edge of the counter. Sneaking a glance at
Damian while she prepped everything, the Stark noticed he was already staring up at her
wearily.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he finally asked, to which Brooklyn almost
scoffed.

"I told you earlier I never had my injuries treated as a kid, so I had to learn once I started
living on my own. So, yes, I do know what I'm doing," Brook replied, pulling her wet hair
into a ponytail before hesitantly moving to stand between his legs.

Fighting the shaking distress, Brook once again poured alcohol into her hands, then carefully
removed the bandages only to see the stitches Pennyworth had done were now loose with the
strain of the battle. Ok, at least the wound didn't look nearly as bad as it had the first time
she'd seen it...

Hesitantly, Brook placed a steading hand on his warm bare shoulder, looking to him for
confirmation every time their skin made contact if only because she knew Damian hated to be
touched. Last thing he needed was to be accidentally stabbed with a needle if he flinched
away.

At his reluctant and perhaps even surprised nod, Brooklyn got to work cleaning and stitching
the wound as best she could. Damian, who was leaning an arm on the nearby counter for his
own support, didn't look up at her as he mused, "Is this act of charity part of your
determination to become like your father, are you that determined that you're willing to keep
helping your greatest enemy?"

Brooklyn caught her own faint smile on the reflection of the mirror beside her, "Like I said
last time, I'm still waiting for a profound thank you. I should start charging you every time I
save your life, it's getting tedious at this point"

"Something tells me you would never let me live it down if I did apologize," he said with a
faint trace of humor in his voice, or at least as much as Damian would show. Then his voice
grew deeper, emerald eyes finally staring up at her with unease as he added, "But if it was
down to me to save your life one day, would you trust me to do it?"
Brooklyn paused her stitching, stared down at him with her mouth slightly agape in
puzzlement at the sudden inquiry. The Star Wars shirt discarded on his lap, the way his raven
locks fell naturally atop his head, even the unguarded sight of wounds of the past littered
across his skin almost threw her off as much as the question. How could he ask such a
question, ponder such a situation, and more importantly...how far did that temporary alliance
between them go?

Turning back to her work, while finishing up the last stitches, Brooklyn considered all the
times they'd fought one another both verbally plus that one physical battle, she pondered on
the times they'd had to reluctantly become temporary allies…an efficient team, which
including tonight's events.

"I guess I would now," Brook whispered as the last stitch sealed his wound, "Let's hope that
day never comes. But at least while we're still temporary allies, it's not entirely unpleasant to
know I have an ex-assassin with similar training as mine to at least having my back
sometimes"

She still had no idea why her answer was so important, or why she actually confessed to
trusting him with her life. It occurred to Brook that she might even trust Jon and Spider-man
with her life as well, that those reclusive instincts of hers were no longer tattooed into her
soul.

How had everything changed so much these past few days? She was standing between a
Wayne’s legs in her own bathroom, stitching his wounds, telling him she actually trusted him
to a degree. When they’d met for the first time, she likely would’ve easily left him to die at
the Joker’s hands. The immensity of the differences between both scenarios, the irony of it,
didn’t escape her.

By the time her perfect stitch work was silently scrutinized by Damian before a new bandage
covered the wound entirely, the two made a silent agreement that too much had occurred
tonight to be able to go to bed right that instant. It was still early by a nocturnal being’s
standards, so once she broke free from the emanating warmth of his body when they exited
the small bathroom, the two settled down on her couch to watch the news.

Unsurprisingly, coverage of the place they’d just been in was the top story for tonight.

Brook almost sighed out in relief when it was reported the cops had taken the mutants into
custody, that the fire had not spread, no innocents died, and the authorities could only say
they saw four unidentifiable retreating figures in the dark that had saved the block from the
fire, maybe even a good chunk of the neighborhood.

Some witnesses swore Spider-man was amongst them, but that was expected of Queens’
hero. As for the others, something in her mind settled when they were referred to as unknown
heroes by the survivors. The unknown part eased her anxiety…the hero part was something
more, it was unexpected, and oddly made her heart pick up a few beats.

Neither Damian nor Brook acknowledged the title that was foreign to them both, they were
just begging to discuss another stakeout for the next of the Joker’s most visited locations
sometime soon when her TV went blank…and then a call notification popped up. From her
dad.

Now in a full blown panic as the name otets popped up across the screen, Brooklyn was
silently hoping neither her dad or SHIELD had figured it had been her on the news tonight,
which she hadn’t even considered as an issue earlier. More importantly, was the peculiar and
forbidden situation with the teen seated beside her…which her dad would most certainly
consider of higher importance than whatever had occurred in Queens tonight.

Before FRIDAY could answer the call automatically, the teen stood and shoved the Wayne
out of the couch. Damian’s body collapsed with a heavy thump and a curse in Arabic before
he crawled away to where she pointed, a place Brook knew the camera would be out of
reach.

In the seconds the two scrambled to get him out of view, she could've sworn the ringing from
the TV became more insistent.

"Don't come out," Brooklyn whispered down to where he crouched against the wall beside
the fireplace, with the TV propped atop it she figured it was a perfect blindspot. Perhaps
more frantically, she added, "No matter what you hear, you don't repeat it to anyone. And if
my dad sees you...well we'll both dead in that case so I suppose it won’t do any good to
threaten you in that instance"

Damian glowered, promising nothing as he pushed her over to the couch where she piled on
some blankets and pretended to be deeply focused on one of her dad's college research
notebooks that had been resting on the coffee table. Something about Quantum Gravity from
his days stuck in Theoretical Physics courses that Brooklyn figured would never come in
handy.

Only until her pretend set looked up to par did Brook urge FRIDAY to accept the call.
Almost instantly, her dad’s image came up on the massive screen, notably still inside his
cluttered lab despite the nearing midnight. Distantly she could hear the heavy beats and faint
singing of AC DC and the mechanical shuffling around of dad’s machine aids. Despite how
chaotic all those meshed sounds could be to most people, Brook had found a certain beauty in
the chaos these past months to the point that she was soothed by the noise alone.

To further calm her erratic heartbeats, Brook reasoned that dad’s bright smile was probably a
good sign that he had no clue something…or rather, multiple somethings were amiss.

Prying her eyes from the notebook, she shot her otets a sweet smile in return, inquiring
without any of the panic swirling in her mind, "Hey, dad! Why are you calling so late? I
thought mom had you on a stick eight hour sleep schedule these days?"

Tony set down a few tools before shooting her a mischievous wink, "Hey, Daphne. I trust you
won’t tell your mom since we both know how much she hates it when I stay up, but I was just
getting some important work done. Besides, if we’re accusing me of burning the candle on
both ends, you could just as easily be found guilty of said crime"
The girl nodded, full attention on the screen as she added, "You're lucky mom is away,
otherwise we'd both be dead. Especially me since tomorrow’s a school night"

Her otets chuckled, their twin eyes alight with mirth.

"True. Lucky you, I'm the cool parent that will excuse late nights from time to time. I spoke
to Pep earlier and wanted to give you a heads up…”his undiluted joy shifted into something
like unease as he added, “It may be because she’s with her parents right now, but your mom
kept me on the line for almost an hour, unsure if you'd ever want to meet her folks. She's still
gonna be there for the rest of the week, so if you're feeling brave, maybe you can give Pep a
call so she can introduce you to her family. They're not bad people and from what I gather,
they’ve been very eager to meet their granddaughter since the media leaked out your
existence"

Right. Families didn’t just consist of clusters of unrelated heroes, normally they weren’t
composed of assassins, gods, experiments…consisted of grandparents that weren’t patriotic
super soldiers. Now that Brook thought about it, Pepper had subtly mentioned something
about her parents during the weekend after she mentioned visiting her family for a few days.

In all honesty, Brooklyn didn't mind talking to them. She loved Pepper like a mother, and
even an ex-assassin could see how awkward it could be having a daughter so distant from all
others in the woman’s life. She wasn’t scared of a pair of civilians, but the slight hesitation
she felt was rather on what they’d think of her. Meeting one another would likely have to be
through a video call for now, which would certainly make things less daunting.

Besides…having actual grandparents might not be the worst thing in the world. She had no
idea what that role consisted of outside of what she’d seen in films or jokingly experienced
with Grandpa Stave, but out of everything in this world —obviously excluding her birth
mother— family had yet to fail her in any way.

When she'd said as much to her dad, he surprised her by beaming at the words, almost falling
off his seat.

"I can’t believe you’re actually willing to meet them! Don’t get me wrong, I'm glad you’re
taking the leap, but you're maturing so much lately it's making me shed crocodile tears," he
replied, wiping off invisible waterworks before his face lit up with excitement, waving an
envelope in his hand.

“If they’re anything like mom, I know they’ll be great…so what's there to fear,” Brook said,
still touched that her mom would trust her to meet important people in her life despite the
Red Room past that often loomed over her head. Because that's what this was…it was
unspoken trust. Dad had only brought it up to see how she would react, to act as a buffer
between the two in case Brook refused.

"That's great and all, but obviously it's not something that couldn’t wait till morning.
Actually, this is why I hoped you'd be awake!" Tony said, brandishing a neat envelope with a
familiar symbol stamped at the front, "Wanna know what it says? It's from SHIELD,
delivered just for you an hour ago"
SHIELD? Crap, had she gotten in trouble after all? Was that an expulsion letter from the
academy for engaging in an unauthorized alteration? For venturing to the Batman’s forbidden
realm where she’d engaged in a fight with one of its villains? She’d thoroughly read the rules
SHIELD had provided, knew she’d already broken almost a dozen of them in the pursuit of
her research to end this conflict.

"Do I wanna read what's on there?" Brook asked wearily, pulling at the ends of her sweater
and she leaned closer to the screen nervously, sneaking a glance at Damian, who seemed
impassive to the whole ordeal. Clearly he was listening, cataloging every crumb of
information as anyone of their caliber and skillset should do for an enemy. Whether he’d
actually use it against her one day or not was a surprisingly uncertain scenario in her mind.

After making a few drumming motions on the table before him, her otets gladly ripped open
the cream envelope and did some mockup impersonations of Fury’s voice as if he planned on
reading it as such, even going as far as to place a hand on his eye to simulate an eye patch, as
he unfolded the paper.

"I told the old man I wanted to give you the news, but here it is, the official stuff," Dad said,
clearing his throat as she fisted the ends of her throw overs in nervous anticipation.

To her eternal surprise, it wasn’t something reprimanding or even an expulsion from the
career she’d grown to embrace into a flicker of a dream as of late, in fact...it was great news!

Turned out her SHIELD training had been particularly hard that day, it hadn’t just been her
imagination or anxiety for the secret mission she had scheduled after her time at the
Compound, but rather because it was a test of sorts to evaluate her performance.

Through all parameters of the secret examination, Brooklyn had passed with flying colors. It
took Brook a second to realize what that meant, dad had actually had to read it from the letter
itself for the teen to understand that she’d just officially graduated from the SHIELD
Academy. Brook had assumed her final trial would be a big deal, something she’d be told to
prepare for thoroughly, but it had been done in secret on a day she could’ve damned training
to hell from her nerves of confronting the Joker later in the evening. It meant Fury and the
Council had watched her various tests from the shadows, they’d all had to agree that she was
no longer a threat…but worthy of a title most in the Academy could only dream of obtaining
after eight years of training.

Mouth almost hitting the floor in shock, dad beamed to himself as he finished off the rest of
the letter where Fury mentioned Brook now possessed the second shortest time of graduation
in history. Apparently, Uncle Clint still held the record of three weeks.

After putting down the letter, dad turned his attention back to her as he said, "As of tonight,
my sweet daughter, you are officially a certified SHIELD Agent!" which sent Brooklyn into a
fit of laughter as she stood up on the couch bouncing in excitement. Dad soon joined in from
the other end of the call.

They probably looked ridiculous…but this warranted every ounce of her smile no matter how
pathetic it looked.
Though she’d never failed a trial in her life, SHIELD had been the one place where she’d
been thoroughly humbled and scolded. For a second there, Brooklyn had assumed her past
habits would be impossible to break. She’d feared that becoming like her family would be an
impossible task not meant for a past Black Widow, for Ivan’s heiress.

She’d poured her heart and soul into breaking those instincts, to the point that disabling an
opponent was her first thought, that she took rescue ops and the basic first aid training
seriously. She abided by their rules of no unnecessary murder.

The physical tests themselves were eased by her childhood training. Firearms, tactical,
explosives, room clearing, close-quarters combat, navigation, parachuting, protocol with
extraterrestrial threats…hell, the only thing that had given her trouble had been small unit
tactics where that was concerned.

Everything beyond physical skill like languages, espionage, all the things that made up the
communications and operations division had been nothing but child's play. Even the
SHIELD's Academy of Science and Tech division which she and Spider-man were both
encouraged to climb up the ranks of was not too difficult once she was taught what she
needed to know, even without the usually required PhD.

Becoming an agent meant being cleared for entry-level missions, starting patrols, and finally
being cleared to own weapons. She briefly wondered if Adonis had known of the test, if he’d
let her walk away with the stun guns because he’d known the result of her trials even without
speaking to Fury about it.

"Don't get too excited," Tony said after his little celebration, obviously trying to sound
serious as he added, "You still have to do a lot more teamwork practice to rise up to a higher
rank, not to mention that from now, you’ll be training with all the Avengers and spending
your assigned patrols with Underoos as your senior. Sure you can handle that?"

Brooklyn didn't bother telling her dad that she and Spidy had already established a precarious
alliance, as much a truce as she had with Damian Wayne. They’d already worked as a team
without murdering one another. Of course dad couldn't know how ahead of their expectations
she’d managed to work towards, so she just nodded and accepted the string of praises not
only from her dad and from the passing Avengers. Grandpa Steve, sestra, Wanda, Clint and
Scott had all inched closer to the camera to congratulate her with equal enthusiasm to dad’s,
promising a celebration in a few weeks in her honor.

Aside from the fact that there had never been a celebration in her honor of any sort, another
thing had caught her off guard amidst their praise. It didn’t escape her keen observational
skills that all of them were wearing their suits, strapping on their weapons…ready for battle.

Her smile vanished then, an uncomfortable ache taking over her mind as she quieted them all
with a raise of her hand.

"Is something wrong?" Brooklyn asked, "Are you guys going somewhere?"

Tony's expression fell slightly from his place slouched on the chair further from the camera
due to all the pushing around to congratulate her. It was then that Brook noticed he was
wearing the black body-tight suit that he usually wore under his metal suit when he could
help it.

He too was ready for a mission.

"Unfortunately one of my famous Stark parties will have to wait a while, hero duty calls.
Pepper is actually pissed any time I put the suit on, but even she acknowledged this is
particular mission is serious stuff, so I guess I'm playing foot soldier for Capsicle’s army"

That was why he’d called so late. Not to give her a heads up on mom’s inquiry, not to read
her the letter from SHIELD, but to see Brook before he left on a mission.

That's when her own mood fell, plummeting down to the Earth’s core when her otets began
explaining the mission all the Avengers gathered around him, even the ones charged with
house arrest. Seeing as she was now an agent as well, dad didn’t seem to have any qualms
with her listening, but Brook figured it was also in an attempt to ease her nerves.

Apparently, SHIELD had found a weapons stronghold in Washington D.C. Since it was a
very real danger for the president, the heroes were all temporarily pardoned to go deal with it.
A place assumed to not only have strong numbers of security, but also an array of alien
weapons that required the entire team’s skills.

That's when she recalled the map on the study, the one that showed Harley Quinn's main
activity this week. Washington D.C. had been one of those frequent stops...an abandoned
warehouse twenty or so blocks from the President’s office.

"I can go right?" Brooklyn asked hopefully, "Now that I'm an agent, you can take me with
you"

Looking both worried and pained, her dad shook his head, "You need a little more training
for that, higher clearance and all that. Right now all you’re allowed on Fury’s orders are
patrols, kid. But don't worry, this should only take a couple days mostly to prepare…and
well, we might have to stop in Tennessee too since there is some fishy stuff going on there.
At the very least I'll go deal with that on my own, but you shouldn't worry too much, we're a
tough bunch"

She knew that…gods, they were the bloody Avengers! But Brooklyn couldn't help but be
worried still, willing to risk her new honorary title with SHIELD just to go protect them. It
wasn’t until she thought about how ridiculous that sounded, a teenager protecting The
Avengers that she swallowed her rebuttal. They were better prepared, had more experience,
and they were all experienced enough to watch each other's backs...

The least she could do was keep Queens safe in their absence, New York if she could help it
since it was their unspoken stronghold. Just as the Batman was known to be the honorary
protector of Gotham, the Avengers were that for the world…but mostly New York. It was
their massive city, their home.

She would keep it safe as she had tonight, Brook could do that, and silently hope they all
came back safe. It wasn’t like her to voice such concerns, near impossible to ask for
something as it was to apologize. But she gladly swallowed her pride then, addressing not
only to her dad, but also to the rest of her family.

"Please...be very careful" Brooklyn whispered, "Dad, I know you're Iron Man and all, but just
don't do anything stupid for the sake of dramatic flair. Remember that you said family is
power, and that we fight for it whatever it takes, so you better make it back in one piece. You
and everyone else. We'll be waiting for you,"

The Tony on screen nodded, trying to hide the small glistening in his eyes that didn’t look
like the fake tears from earlier, he hid whatever that feeling was with a smug grin.

"Will do, kiddo. Meanwhile, stay out of trouble at school, you hear? I don't want to come
back to see bits of Damian Wayne splattered on the school halls. Remember that no Wayne is
even remotely worth getting in trouble for again. And if that little punk bothers you first,
contact Underoos since he's staying behind in Queens as well. You two kids can stay in
contact and he can beat up Bruce Jr. for you under my orders"

Brooklyn snuck a glance at Damian then, remembering he was here of all places beholding
an array of emotions she would’ve never dared making known to him before. Damian was
already sending a seething glare at the TV, at dad’s words no doubt.

"I can take care of myself, dad," Brook said, hoping to stray the topic from Damian to
something more pressing since she'd likely not see dad for a while.

Perhaps all the sneaking behind his back was getting to her, maybe she just wanted to prove
she was worthy of the new position and trust, but Brooklyn chose to focus her conversation
on things she had done right recently. So that hopefully he wouldn’t worry about leaving her
unsupervised.

As the others left to gather the rest of their supplies, Brook showed him some of her recent
test scores, talked about some clever upgrades planned for her personal tinkering projects,
and they even planned a few visits to Stark Industries…and discussed accepting some
interviews and additional events of the like for publicity in the future. That last part was
mostly just to make mom’s life easier for when she returned. Neither of them were happy
about the concept of her playing the part of a new celebrity, but in a way, it was part of the
job. A secret identity atop a secret identity to hide her ugly truths.

"Before I go…look, I know you're a badass that can take down Steve Rogers with enough
caffeine in your system but try and stay inside as much as possible, kid. I heard there were
some sightings of the Joker nearby, so if you or Underoos see him once you start patrols, you
don’t engage, got it? Fury can send a cluster of agents to scare him back to Gotham if need
be. If anything else comes up, feel free to bother Happy if we're not back by the weekend, he
can give you a lift to the compound whenever you feel like it" Tony asked, pointing a worn
tool her way.

Well...she was planning to go find the Joker soon.

"You're the one attacking a weapons nest," she evaded, "Just keep an eye out for anything.
Maybe I'll ask my sestra to keep an eye on you since I have a feeling you’ll ask the same of
Spidy"

Her dad groaned, leaning on the desk with an exasperated grimace. Once the two joked about
a few more things so it wouldn't look like she was rushing a goodbye, Brooklyn begged him
one more time to be careful, even if that meant Damian would behold that weakness within
her.

The thought of losing her dad after she just found him against all odds...it left a very
surprising sinking feeling in her stomach.

With a final wave of dismissal, as if his multiple-day mission was nothing of concern, Tony
Stark added with a rusty Russian accent, "Ostavaysya v bezopasnosti"

Stay safe.

Once again, his attempts at learning her mother tongue simply because it was a part of her
warmed Brooklyn's heart. It was while fighting a lump in her throat that she replied softly,
"Ostavaysya v bezopasnosti"

With that, the call ended and the screen went eerily black. For a few unsteadying seconds,
Brooklyn once again forgot Damian was in the room as she let the weight of everything sink
in. Of course dad had gone on a few missions lately, but none nearly as long or dangerous.

It made her think of that first time she saw the Iron Man armor flying above in a sky full of
invading aliens, full of smoke and the screams from the streets reaching up to the heavens. It
was the moment that Brooklyn grasped the fact that her father was willing to put himself in
danger for others, even if at the time she didn’t understand why.

Now all she could do was put her faith in the Avengers and their skills in a way she hadn’t
dared to back in the Battle of New York, to hope she could make life easier for them by
stopping the hidden mastermind of all this chaos once and for all. Because if this went on,
more long-term missions like this would keep happening, and one of those days might cost
the life of someone from her family.

It was after that chilling thought that she remembered Damian was still there, staring at her
with one of those frowns that Brook knew meant something akin to curiosity stemming from
something other than judgment, however small it might be. When he stood, Damian checked
his clothes for creases, dusting off invisible dust before he settled down in his previous spot
on the couch beside her where the two were now bathed in the almost ethereal light of the
changing colors of the TV.

Brooklyn expected him to mock her or her family, to say something along the lines of their
established rivalry. But for all the things Damian Wayne was; cold, stubborn, arrogant, and
unmistakably lethal, he also had a single undeniable trait linked to her.

He never ceased to surprise her.

"Your family has faced an alien army, a homicidal robot, and who knows what else that the
public is not allowed to know. You'd be stupid and foolish to worry for their well being,"
Damian said, in what she could’ve sworn the demon must've interpreted as comforting words,
which in their own twisted way, actually worked.

Unsure how to respond, how to even acknowledge the misplaced kindness, neither one
bothered to acknowledge that slip of the tongue had occurred.

Thankfully she'd done her homework ahead of time at school so there was no need to remain
awake much longer. After Brook stood to stretch out her sore muscles, she took a few
seconds to make sure the bandage across the Wayne’s arm and shoulder blade wasn’t
bleeding. She tried not to think of the distance as she leaned down to inspect the work hidden
under Peter’s shirt, and thankfully their shared breathing space wasn’t for long once she
spotted no blood on the fabric.

Brooklyn righted herself and nodded once in what she hoped was the equivalent of a
distasteful goodnight, then made her way down the hall. Something must’ve decided that
wasn’t enough, maybe it was just their nature to want to have the last word, because she
stopped at the entrance to the hallway leading to the front food and added over her shoulder,
"You better not kill me in my sleep or my ghost I'll haunt you forever. We leave for school at
six am sharp, I'll make up an excuse so Peter and Harry don't see us, but it's best we leave
early"

Damian stood up regally from the couch, and despite the newfound worry for her family, she
still felt like laughing at the sight of his most usual clothing ensemble. Peter’s soft and child-
like clothing did make the Wayne look younger, more relaxed, perhaps even closer to his
age...but that didn’t change the fact that he was still an idiot.

It appeared that said idiot was also not planning to stay up any longer, so as her last act of
being a decent hostess, she delivered some spare essentials to the guest room before seeking
the comfort of her own bed at last.

When she stopped by her own door amidst the darkened hallway, Damian was clutching the
handle of his own temporary room, staring at her. Brook wasn't sure what to do as they both
stood there frozen like identical statues. The prospect of saying ‘good night’ certainly seemed
like something only people who could stand each other's presence would do. Seeing as it was
neither good and daylight would break in a few hours, it would’ve also been a waste of
breath.

Luckily, the Wayne saved her the trouble of figuring out what to do when he shot her what
she could've sworn was a softened glare, perhaps just a trick of the light, before making his
way inside the spare room with a fierce close of the door behind him.

Rude.

Finally in the comfort of her own room, Brooklyn went through her nightly routine as quickly
as possible, sent a few messages of ‘luck’ to all the Avengers, and even got some replies back
from not only them, but a brief confirmation on the com device on her nightstand that both
Jon and Spidy had returned home alright. No doubt Damian heard the news as well.
After inspecting the small bruises on her skin from today's mission, she deemed them
harmless before sinking into the fluffy white bed sheets that were practically calling out to
her exhaustion. FRIDAY had taken care of turning off the lights in the apartment, leaving
only the moonlight from the open window panes to illuminate her room.

Brook tried to sleep, but despite all she’d put her body through today, her mind wouldn’t rest.

With an annoyed huff, Brooklyn leaned down to the side of the bed where her backpack lay
undisturbed. Almost instinctively, she fished out the leather notebook without leaving the
warmth of her bed. For the next twenty minutes, Brook debated opening Damian's possession
and scanning its oddly mystifying contents once more, but guilt won over eventually and she
set it back inside…promising herself she'd discreetly return it tomorrow. Though it would be
a great thing to tease him about, Brooklyn also swore she’d never confess to having seen it…
an odd kindness on her part.

That's when the walkie-talkie went off on her nightstand.

Brooklyn frowned at the ceiling of her room, wondering why Damian would want to talk to
her at this time, if he somehow had a radar that told him when she was dealing with
something related to him. Reaching into her drawer, Brook answered with a faint, "What?"

The line was quiet for a second. She wondered if he’d assumed she wouldn’t answer, and she
debated it considering they were a room away if it was some sort of emergency. Clearly it
wasn’t.

"You better not snore, I'm tired," he replied breathlessly.

Brooklyn couldn't hold back the small chuckle that burst out of her mouth before she replied
into the device, "You better not sleep walk or something. But don't worry, if YOU snore I'll
have FRIDAY wake you up with a nice loud ‘lullaby’, my esteemed rival"

Remembering their exchange of letters in class, the clever ways to address one another which
they’d come to use despite its contents being in an already indecipherable code, Damian
actually humored her playfulness by replying not long after, "Just don’t wake me up unless
the world is burning, my 'beloved' nemesis"

Like the first time she'd read it on paper, the usual term of endearment turned into a curse,
Brooklyn laughed herself hoarse, loud enough that she was certain Damian had heard it
through the walls despite turning off the device. It was the exhaustion from that action alone
that finally allowed her to enter the realm of sleep.

Brook still slept with a dagger nearby, just as she was sure Damian kept a katana close. But
not once did she feel threatened, even when the sun rose the next morning.

A hazy moment of bliss, that's what this morning was.

Brooklyn had woken up before her alarm, not even thinking about the events of last night as
she went through the motions of her normal morning routine. After brushing her teeth with
methodical efficiency and asking FRIDAY to turn on the coffee machine, Brooklyn blasted
her usual music across the apartment while making some toasted bagels.

Eating something other than cereal was always a reward for waking up ahead of time, a
treasured delicacy in this humble household of hers.

Still in her PJs with slightly disheveled bed-hair, swaying her hips to the beat of the 70s
classics, that’s was how a sleepy Damian Wayne found her as he slowly stumbled into the
kitchen. Brook almost choked on the slice of bagel as she actually re-processed the sight of a
Wayne in her home. Maskless, barefoot, clad in a Star Wars t-shirt.

It may have been the early angelic rays of the sun filtering into the rooms, but he looked
so...docile, unthreatening, domestic. The usual intensity of his emerald eyes was still stuck in
a state between sleepiness and his own confusion. It was oddly relaxing.

For a few seconds, Brooklyn hoped she was having a dream, but why would a Wayne be in
her dreams? It would most likely be a nightmare in that case. Then she recalled the events of
last night, her pathetic offer. Unsure what could be done about this unforeseen situation, she
slowly moved to place another bagel in the toaster, letting it disappear into the machine with
a beep that snapped Brook out of her silence.

"Um, hello demon," she said, trying to summon the wave of sass she usually used on him, but
it was so early in the day that the usual insult lost its bite.

From his place leaning on the entrance to the kitchen, Damian roamed his eyes across her
body, from top to bottom, still sleepily clutching a katana in hand. With a single nod of
acknowledgement that was devoid of a single glare, the boy took a seat on a barstool before
the small table in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes locked on the coffee machine longingly.

The katana was settled innocently at the bottom of the table, leaning against its body where
the light lit it up in gold rather than the usual blue hue that ran along its center for reasons
she’d never dared to ask.

Realizing even someone as tough and cold as Damian Wayne couldn't function properly
without coffee in the morning, she served a cup of the steaming life juice...then took a sip
right in front of him.

His eyes had gone wide then, as if he couldn't quite believe the offense. But just before he
could start yelling, she pulled out another mismatched cup and served him some as well.
Brook silently observed how he prepared his coffee, the way his adam’s apple bobbed as the
contents went down his throat, the almost silent sigh of relief after the first sip.

It felt odd, all of this. Amidst the morning confusion, it almost felt like they were living
together and...she stopped the train of thought there. What a miserable vision that was.

After a few generous sips, the Wayne’s first words were, "You are a cruel thing,"

"Cruel would've been if I hadn't given you any coffee. Look, I'm even making toast" she
replied while leaning on the other end of the table, lazily pointing at the beeping machine
behind her.

Though it was odd to share a morning with her enemy, exhaustion was a stronger force than
embarrassment or the anger from a family feud. That was probably the cause of their trouble-
less morning. They each had three bagels with marmalade, and though he was silent as he
observed every crevice of the room, she merely hummed along to the music while listening to
FRIDAY's usual debriefing of her schedule today.

School
Decathlon
Shield Academy Science division documents (basically homework 1)
Homework from school (so hw 2)
And...nothing else.

SHIELD was incredibly occupied to bother summoning her for training, or maybe it was a
regard for her ascension. With her family scattered across the country...school was her only
compromise for the day.

Glancing at the pop up holographic screen in the middle of the table, she even listened to an
official email from Director Fury about her completion of her SHIELD agent training. It
wasn't as enthusiastic as the way dad had delivered it, but the A.I. tried its best to seem
congratulatory.

Surprisingly, aside from his presence across the table, Damian didn’t interfere much with her
usual morning. He observed, ate his breakfast without a single comment on it being possibly
poisoned, and texted Jon to assure all was well. His injured arm even seemed to be doing
better.

However, at the end of the meal, after the two headed over to get dressed, Damian did knock
on her door. Finally demanding an audience. Fastening the last straps of her floral shirt and
the zipper of her skirt, Brooklyn opened her door and dimmed the music.

Damian was already dressed in yesterday's clothes which had thankfully not wrinkled too
much, and in his hands were the folded items belonging to Peter.

"Leave them on the bed, I'll return them later," she instructed, moving back to the vanity to
finish placing some pins amidst her long auburn tresses.

From the reflection of the mirror, Brooklyn caught sight of Damian looking around her room
with that same curiosity from breakfast. Probably studying his enemy's surroundings and all
that. He delicately traced a finger on the various strings of Polaroids along the wall by her
desk, inspecting the frozen moments they held.

"You only attained this family a few weeks ago, months at most if what you said atop the
nightclub was true, yet it seems like you've known them your whole life. You seemed
genuinely worried for them yesterday," he said, pausing her lipstick application.

After spending the length of the mission and a night in her home in his presence, it didn't feel
that odd walking up to him then, he certainly didn’t flinch away when she stood beside him.
Brook stared happily at one particular photo, the one of Wanda levitating Clint across the
bases during their unspeakable baseball game. Tony, Pepper, Natasha and Scott were dying of
laughter on the side lines and Uncle Clint looked as happy as could be.

"They’re really special. It's not hard to care for them when they grow on you very quickly.
Even someone like me was able to embrace that" she said.

Beside her, Damian glanced down at her, raising a brow. Though he’d combed his hair, it
wasn’t delicately coated with the usual stuff that kept it in a state of perfect neatness. Little
curls at the ends of his hair curled by his ears, and for a second, Brooklyn considered running
her hands along the raven locks to style it into the weirdly acceptable disarray of last night.

"Someone like you? Meaning reckless and insufferable?" He asked, leaning his head down
slightly towards her own.

Brook smirked, thinking back to her old self. The Brooklyn from not too long ago.

"I meant someone who was afraid to get close to people. A person who only expected the
worst and wanted no one around in fear of betrayal," Brook stated, unable to withstand the
intensity of the look from him that followed. She couldn't decipher what it meant, it was a
different frown form the others in her mental catalog.

She turned away from him, from the space they shared to the other end of the room where the
double doors of her closet lay so she could pick out a coat. Just as she was debating the
merits between red or green, cursing herself for not being able to consult Tanya about it,
Damian was suddenly behind her…reaching beside her body and snatching the hanger with
the emerald green coat. A gift from Agent/Uncle Coulson.

When she turned her head sideways to looked up at him in shock, the teen merely rolled his
eyes and shrugged the coat off its hanger, and though he never touched her skin...he
wordlessly placed it atop her shoulders.

Damian was looking at her like that again...the way she often interpreted as him seeing her
for who she was, truly seeing all her and not showing an ounce of fear before it all.

Like back in the cramped bathroom yesterday, their proximity was close enough that she
could smell the peppermint and lingering smell of his distant yet expensive husky cologne. It
was dizzying in a way Brook could not decipher, like she couldn't move away. She reached
out slowly, grasping the slightly disheveled collar of his red flannel. Though both their
breaths seemed to stop as she fixed it into place, Damian didn’t yell or attack, he didn’t shove
her away. He just stood there, in her room, as she fixed his clothes into place.

Why the hell had she done that!?

Trying to keep her puzzled panic at bay, Brook slowly turned around and away from his gaze,
reaching down to grab a pair of matching green heels mom had once sworn would make her
hair stand out beautifully. By the time she rose from the ground, Damian had backed up a few
steps at least, but his usual stone-faced look seemed to falter, like it was glitching.
"We should go," she whispered.

Damian eyed the expanse of the bedroom one last time, gaze locking briefly on the hanged
photos, Harry's folded jersey on her dresser, and the pair of worn ballet shoes atop her desk
chair.

He exited the room without another word, and by the time they were both standing before the
front door with backpacks strapped to their backs, ready to brave the cold outside...well let
just say Brook took the necessary precautions to make sure neither Peter or Aunt May would
spot her with a Wayne even at this early hour.

She scouted the silent hall meticulously. Thankfully, not even the neighbors who got up to
walk their dogs early spotted the pair as they snuck by, and when the two made it out the
front gate, she let out a breath of relief after texting Pete and Harry about her sudden early
arrival at school for an assignment.

"Ok, where is your car?" Damian asked, clutching the gym bag he'd borrowed from her
containing his suit and weapons while eyeing their surroundings for any prying eyes.

Brooklyn frowned, "I don't have one. We're taking the metro"

When she moved to make her way down the street, Damian actually held her back, clutching
her wrist as he said, "You're joking right? You are a Stark and you don't have a car? Can you
even drive?"

Brooklyn bit back her embarrassment, thinking back to the small driving lesson with Happy
last weekend where she almost drove them into the small duck pond at the Compound.

The Red Room had deemed many things necessary to perfect, but driving a mere car had not
been one of them. Brook could fly jets, helicopters, planes, and even ride a motorcycle...but
cars were new and annoying to her.

How could a stick shift be so complicated when they had A.I. roaming about the world.

Instead of replying with the obvious truth, Brooklyn shot her enemy a glare and after shaking
off his hold, made her way down the street as she said over her shoulder, "You're welcome to
walk to school if you’re afraid of a little public transportation"

Lest to say, seeing Damian hanging onto a leather strap for dear life in the empty metro, well
that was the highlight of her morning...that is until he lost balance and the two fell on the
floor into a tangle of limbs and shared curses.

By the time they finally reached the school, the two practically dispersed away from one
another as quickly as they could. They only left with the reluctant promise to keep in touch
for their project and next mission hanging between them.

Thinking the hardest part of her day was over, Brooklyn went about to ‘wander the halls’ of
empty school. In truth, she went and placed Damian's notebook back in his seat in their
history class just before the boy ventured there. She then explored the vast garden space on
the roof of the school that reminded her of the ecological garden houses atop her apartment
building.

A few texts from her dad and Avengers kept her busy for a while up there. Thankfully, they
were all fine and on their way to the first stakeout of the place. Brook didn’t mention
anything about knowing Harley Quinn had been seen in the area, she couldn’t, but she did
urge her dad to keep an eye out for mutants under the excuse that she’d seen something on
the news about rebels joining criminal groups.

It was all relatively peaceful, the loneliness of it all, but then...then her friends came, and the
true unexpected difficulty of the day began.
 Rooftop Attack

Peter Parker POV-

It was a miracle he hadn't slipped up prior to this.

For what felt like the longest time, Peter had been dying to ask Brooklyn what having her
mortal enemy in her home had been like, but Peter wasn't supposed to know a thing about
that or the criminals they’d stopped last night. Normal civilian Peter Parker wasn’t supposed
to know the Avengers were out on a big mission either, which was the likely reason why
Brook was constantly frowning at her phone during lunch.

He'd gotten a notification from Mr. Stark as well. The Avengers were off the grid for now, it
would be radio silence until the mission was over. Unless there was an emergency. Peter’s
nerves and worry probably didn’t compare to whatever Brook felt with her dad off on a
dangerous mission, and a part of him wondered if carrying that worry on her own was
something he should try to rectify as Spider-man later. It wasn’t like she cared for his masked
persona though.

Everyone at the lunch table had likely assumed Brooklyn's unusual mood was due to stress
over that History project of hers. No matter the reason, their group of misfits knew their
friend wasn’t alright.

Harry was considerably more affectionate today, almost always keeping an arm around her
shoulders in comfort despite not knowing the original source of her silence. No one pressed
for answers, not when Brooklyn had never been one to reveal secrets to begin with, but they
shot her friendly smiles whenever they could.

Still he worried, fighting the urge to pace like a madman.

At least there was one other person at the table that understood Peter's position, and that was
Ned. He'd helped during last night's mission, heard everything that had conspired, and now
lived with a secret identity of his own. Having all those specifics sorted in private with Ned
had helped Peter keep his mouth shut about Brook’s excuse this morning during the walk to
school. Harry hadn't been as easy to silence, but after a long talk during the trip to school, the
teen was proud to see his friend had not said a thing on the suspicious circumstances of
Brook’s early arrival.

Luckily, everyone at the table always seemed to ease both Brooklyn and Peter's own nerves
by just being themselves. Today's main topic of conversation just so happened to be
something he could ironically relate to.

As soon as Tanya sat down at the table, curly brown hair bouncing with the movement, she
eyed them all with a huge smile.

"The whole school is in a craze about what happened last night! Those mysterious heroes are
really giving us all something more important to talk about" Tanya said, "Good thing too, this
city was getting dull"

Brooklyn smiled at the comment, silently placing her box of raisins on Tanya's tray as the
cheerleader added a pack of gummies. Peter had to fight a smile of his own at the normalcy,
but listened intently as Tanya leaned closer for suspense, enough so that even MJ leaned
forward to hear.

"I know people think it's some sort of myth at this point, but my dad saw them. He saw four
shadows retreat the scene, and the fire hydrant the firefighters used to put out the fire was cut
open or something" Tanya said confidently, "He reckons a new group of heroes are rising, but
unlike the usual wannabes that only get themselves in trouble, these might be the real deal
like Spider-man"

Peter almost whooped in joy when he noticed Brooklyn did not flinch or seemed disgusted by
the mention of his alter ego. So they had made some progress last night.

"What do you mean your father saw it? Is he a firefighter?" Brook asked.

Before Tanya could reply, MJ's soft and mellow voice spoke up in its place. Peter had to fight
the urge to keep his stare for too long, because that would be weird. But her hair looked
really nice today, as it did always, and the small light in her eyes...

"Tanya's father is the chief of police of Queens," said MJ, and no one was surprised she'd
know that. The decathlon leader had a tendency to know everything important even if it was
the most obscure of information.

Brooklyn's eyes went wide, but she refrained from saying anything but a simple "Got it"

"You didn't know?" Tanya asked, pushing Harry's arm out of the way from Brooklyn's
shoulders so her own could take its place, "Your old man ordered the police force to keep you
safe since you started school. I know they do some extra patrols near your neighborhood
some days"

The Stark looked about as baffled as Peter felt. Sure, he knew who Tanya's father was,
Mr.Bennet came over for Parent Day every time during their elementary school days. But he
shouldn't have been surprised Mr. Stark made sure every precaution was in place for his
daughter's safety.

Normally, Peter would be fearful that knowledge would make Brook upset, but she too
seemed to realize that it was obvious that had been done.

"In that case, thank your father for me," Brooklyn said, "It seems I'm quite the bother"

Everyone at the table screamed a variety of disagreements just as footsteps neared their
vicinity, which could only mean one thing...the other inhabitants of their table had arrived.
When Peter turned around, he saw Jon and Damian were making their way over in hushed
conversation, clutching their trays close.
As per usual, the hall went silent, and he shouldn't have been surprised when Damian and
Brook exchanged their everyday deadly glare.

Even though it had been...like two days, Peter still had to fight the drop of his jaw at the fact
that Robin and Superboy were literally hiding in plain sight. Though Peter was not at all
comfortable around Damian, Jon was a great person, and during their mission the two had
really become close allies. Problem was, Jon was not excellent friends with Peter Parker, so
the boy refrained from waving at the kryptonian and instead went back to his peanut butter
and jelly sandwich.

At least some things never changed, but Brooklyn had done the right thing letting Damian
stay in her home, even if it had done nothing to improve their relationship. But hey, Brook
had changed her mind about Spider-man, maybe one day she could be friends with a Wayne
as well.

After that, the crowds picked up their rhythm again, and the conversation at the table steered
towards more normal things, like the new horrendous hairdo of one of the teachers, the
extended hours of the library, and the upcoming change in weather.

Ned was the one who subtly bumped Peter's shoulder, carefully moving his head towards the
two teens on the other side of the table, still whispering amongst themselves. Though Peter
hated to use his abilities for things like these, he too was very curious. So the brown-haired
boy turned his gaze back to their friend group, seemingly listening but his hearing was
focused intently on the others.

"I told my pa you stayed with us, he left so early he didn't even notice I lied," Jon whispered
proudly, "I swear your alibi is sound, but it's not like it's a big deal anyways. So you stayed
with Brooklyn one night, no big deal, nothing happened"

Silence.

Then Jon added, "Nothing happened right? Bet you went straight to bed all moody as always"

"I told you already, everything was uneventful. Though I will try to finish the project as soon
as possible. Spending time with a Stark is far too inadequate for someone like me. She's
incredibly difficult" Damian replied coldly.

So nothing bad had happened then. Good, at least the inside of her apartment must still be
intact. What Peter did not know was that he would see the inside of it far too soon and under
the worst of circumstances.

Brooklyn POV-

Though she had a stack of paperwork on her desk, Brooklyn couldn't seem to focus on the
intricacies of the company she'd inherit one day, if only because she kept eyeing the green
coat on her bed.
The house felt...emptier today. The same way it did when Aunt May and Peter went back to
their own home after a meal spent together in laughter. Brook had just never expected it to
have that echo of loneliness after Damian Wayne was gone. She let her head crash on the
desk while letting out a frustrated groan.

What had life become!? She was supposed to be rejoicing that they took a day off working on
their project, that Brook didn't have to see Damian around more than school allowed. Even
with all her anger and frustration, Brooklyn was not too far gone into her emotions that she
did not hear that sound outside her bedroom window. At first she dismissed it for the wind,
maybe even something coming from deeper within the city. Then she heard it again...that
unmistakable noise like a fired laser.

Like the alien weapons.

Rushing over to her window, Brooklyn peeked out past the fire escape to see the sky lighting
up with blue rays. There was a person atop a nearby building, and she would've thought him
as a completely normal criminal had it not been for the fact that he jumped forty feet off the
air just to shoot something passing by as a dozen lasers flew by too close to his body at the
mercy of gravity.

Oh no...

She could recognize those webs anywhere, even in the darkness of the night. Just as she
feared, Brooklyn could only watch as Spider-man was shot mid-swing, crashing atop the roof
of her building with that criminal getting ready to jump over to finish the job.

Brooklyn didn't bother to argue with herself about what the right or wrong thing to do would
be as she quickly climbed out of the window, taking the fire escape steps two at a time as she
rushed over to the roof’s gardens.

There was no Avenger to call, SHIELD far too busy to get here on time. It was up to her.

Once she reached the roof, panting as quietly as she could, the girl peeked sideways to see
Spider-man had crashed atop the soft and wet soil of the cabbage farm. He was still trying to
get up rather pathetically, but the important thing was that the hero was alive.

When the weapon holder crashed onto the roof, he did not seem bothered by the sight, in fact,
he was grinning with fangs, half his face covered in green scales as he pointed the riffle-like
weapon towards the fallen.

Spider-man was trying to get up, to fight for his life, but in seconds the hero crashed back on
the soil, panting loudly after taking a punch to the face.

"Ya threw me in jail, little spider. This is my payback" the fanged man said, pushing his long
blond hair back as he took aim at the masked head of Brook's supposed partner, "Too bad
these new weapons are mighty fine at taking out pests like ya. Any last words?"

Little spider....that man was gonna pay for that. It was the wrong thing to say in her presence,
no matter that she viewed Spider-man as a temporary ally.
Before anything else could occur, Brooklyn fought the urge to kill the guy, instead flipping
the metal glove of her Stark watch into place. She trusted her aim enough to fire in seconds,
and a stun wave hit the guy so hard that he collapsed on the floor, screeching at the pain
inside his head. That's when Brooklyn flipped out of her hiding place, running up to hit his
stunned form with a roundhouse kick that knocked the idiot out in one move. Still panting,
Brook moved away from the man to check up on the fallen hero, who was still conscious but
far too injured or immobilized by his fall.

Remembering she had no one on her side who could take her of him, the Stark sprung into
action. It looked like she would have to take care of this mess herself.

Brook couldn't even describe how difficult it was to half-carry the hero down the fire escape
into her living room couch. That had been enough of a workout that the rest of her plan had
seemed much easier to deal with. She hid the weapon in her room, and remembering Tanya's
words from school...she called her friend's dad. As soon as Chief Bennet answered, all
Brooklyn had to do was state her name and the man rushed over to her complex with a few
other cops.

Once they were all up on that roof, Brooklyn made up a clever little story about being up
there studying under the stars, then some guy had tried to attack her, the one currently passed
out. But he'd tripped on the cabbage garden, and she barely had time to hit him with a tool
before she escaped (which she did use anyway just in case).

Chief Bennet was a kind man, but one who commanded respect. It was with those qualities
that the brown-haired man ordered the guy be taken away, then he soothed her as if she were
a startled animal. When Brooklyn mentioned she was ok, and that her dad was away on
business and should not be disturbed, the man understood. He even offered to drop her off at
school tomorrow with Tanya, who the man knew she was friends with already.

Brook made a show of being shy, but said it was not necessary, the criminal was probably just
someone looking to scare her dad or something of the sort. All she needed was a good night's
rest, and that's how she was able to rush back down to her apartment. She made sure to take
two steps at a time, then foregoing that waste of time by just swinging down the handrail to
get to the injured hero faster. His death would most certainly not come to pass under her
supervision…the Avengers cared about him too much.

Perhaps she did too.

To her surprising relief, Spidy was still on her couch where she’d left him, clutching his
stomach and letting out small whines that were not modified by the usual robot voice of his
suit for once.

He was severely injured without a doubt. Perhaps more than she was qualified for treating.

Joking to herself that she might as well open a hospital in her apartment for injured idiots,
Brooklyn rushed over to the bathroom and took out the medical kit that had the tools for most
kinds of injuries she could treat.Hopefully an actual hospital wouldn't be necessary, now that
would be a difficult task...but she'd still have to remove his suit anyways, Brook said as much
as she crouched beside the couch.
It's not like she wasn't suddenly more and more curious everyday for his secret identity, but
something about finding out like this...even Spidy did not seem very enthusiastic.

"Please...don't...I…"he said, then passed out on her couch without another word.

Sudden panic filled her senses, afraid he had stopped breathing, so without even thinking
about his identity or really getting a good look at his face, Brooklyn hastily removed the
mask in one swift move, leaning her ear close to make sure air was still flowing there, which
it was. A quick check of his pulse on the artery on his neck was enough for Brooklyn to at
least let out a breath of relief, which turned into a broken scream when she finally beheld the
face of her masked teammate.

No...no.

There had to be some sort of mistake. This was a joke. It had to be.

Brooklyn crawled away from the couch, back colliding painfully on her coffee table as she
shook her head violently, placing her hands against her mouth to muffle the surprising sobs at
the sight. There, sprawled on her couch...was Peter Parker. Her Peter.

An hour later, Brooklyn was still seething with anger.

Her dad was lucky he was on a mission, because otherwise she would’ve yelled at him until
his ears came off. Brook couldn't stop the thought of everything that had happened lately, of
the best friend she'd made and the hero she'd learned to stand.

Is that why Peter had become her friend? Because he knew who she was and was under
orders from Tony to protect her like Mr Bennet? Had all the kindness he'd shown her been
nothing but faith to his mentor?

But deep down Brook knew this was not what was upsetting her.

Still, she'd practically ripped the top of his suit off until FRIDAY asked Peter's A.I.
(KAREN) to expand the suit for removal. Thankfully, whatever gave Peter his super strength
was also healing the worst of his injuries.

While the teen was still knocked out, Brook stitched up some places where his body had
made contact with the iron fencing, she even cleaned out the small cuts that were slowly
stitching together. Despite her anger, she tried to do it all with care, because every time she
saw Peter's unmasked sleeping face...that's all she could see. Her friend.

Now she was pacing around the couch, hands pulling harshly on her red hair, eyes streaming
with a few tears of frustration, and some sobs of betrayal leaving her mouth in the quiet of
her apartment.

How she wanted to scream, to ask Peter if his friendship had been offered up in a lie. He
could very well have spent time with her only to keep an eye for trouble. It felt foolish now
as she remembered all the times Brooklyn worried over weak little Peter, when she was
troubled over his getting mugged or bullied again. All this time, he could've fought Flash off,
he could've excelled in P.E. without a sweat…

Her living in this apartment was probably by design as well.

The Red Room had taught her to be observant, borderline paranoid when it came to her
surroundings. Yet somehow, she'd missed going to school with a Kryptonian, Robin, and now
her best friend as Spider-man. It almost made her glower at the framed photos above her
chimney, the ones with a smiling Peter by her side. How could she have developed...feelings
for him!? Because Tanya was right, Brooklyn did feel something for Peter even with her
slight hate of Spider-man on the table.

Maybe it was because Brooklyn was so on edge, glaring at Peter as if willing him to wake,
that she immediately got the Stark glove into place when she heard movement behind her on
the balcony. Brook was about a millisecond away from firing a deadly shot past her blurry
vision until she caught sight of a golden cape, the hooded figure with a cowl mask and an R
on his chest.

It was Damian.

He stood perfectly still, waiting until she lowered the glove to hesitantly come inside, taking
in her likely disheveled expression. Brooklyn knew it was useless at this point, but she still
brought the red sleeves of her shirt to try and wipe the evidence of weakness running down
her cheeks.

"I came to see when we would go after the Joker again, go over the data from your tracking
devices," Damian said wearily, "It seems I have come at...an improper time. What, did your
hair dryer die on you?"

Brooklyn let out a dry chuckle, because that was the understatement of the century. It wasn't
until his gaze left her face, when Robin noticed the large medical kit scattered around the
floor, the blood on a kitchen bowl on the table, that he dared a few more steps inside,
scanning her body. Before he could ask if she was ok, if he even cared to begin with, Brook
moved back to the couch behind her, harshly taking the wet cloth from Peter's forehead and
dipping it into fresh cold water again.

Damian quickly discarded his weapons on the table, which she might've made a useless fuss
about scratching the wooden surface had she not been so out of it. When her nemesis beheld
Peter's unconscious form, the bottom half of his body in that familiar suit and the mask on the
coffee table, he actually deigned to show a sign of surprise.

"Parker!?" Damian yelled, "That's who Spider-man is? Are you sure he isn’t just going to a
geek’s convention?"

Brooklyn placed the cloth back on Peter's forehead, pushing back some of his brown locks
before backing away in anger.

"If I hadn't had that same reaction half an hour ago, I would've slapped you" she said, and
with shaking crimson hands, moved towards the kitchen to dispose of the bloody water.
Damian had followed suit, having no qualms standing beside her as he scanned her face.

"What?" she asked tiredly, not at all in the mood to mess with him today.

Damian pulled down his hood and took off his mask, those green eyes meeting her own as he
said casually, "Normally I would delight in your misery, but even I did not expect Parker
under that mask. What happened to him?"

As she washed the stained needles, scrubbed Peter’s blood off her hands, Brooklyn recounted
the events of tonight, even when talking to Damian was likely the stupidest thing to do at a
time like this. Why would he care? It probably only mattered because Peter had fought by
their side last night and knew of Robin’s identity.

By the end of the short tale, her hands were almost burning with the hot water she didn't even
remember turning on amidst her rage, her continued scrubbing only resulting in a raw feeling
that should've hurt. It was Damian who reached to turn off the faucet, and though he still held
his usual frown, the teen pulled her hands away from the smoking sink and dried them
hastily. He stared down at her silently for a few heartbeats, hands still in his own with only a
flimsy towel keeping their skin from actually touching. Damian didn’t hold pity in his eyes,
he just looked...like he was seeing her again. All of her.

It was with that constant contact from the drying of her appendages that her Stark watch rose
up ever so slightly from its normal position. When they both looked down at their joined
hands, they got a good look at the ancient injury Brooklyn had hidden very well from most
until now. On her wrist was a deep scar running around its circumference like a bracelet from
the past. It wasn’t pretty, that was for sure.

Even far from Russia, she was still branded by darkness of the past.

When Brooklyn finally snapped out of her idiotic behavior, she made to step away…only for
Damian to slowly move his index finger towards the closest dip of her skin. No one, not even
Uncle Bruce or sestra who had seen the injury had touched it. It made Brook freeze up once
more, especially as Damian’s surprisingly warm fingers slowly began to trace its deep outline
with a gentleness she wasn’t used to. Certainly not something she had expected from him
when he wasn’t delirious with lack of blood like that day he’d traced along the scars on her
back.

Brook waited impatiently for the questions to start. She knew better by now than to expect
Damian to mock her about things like these…but he said nothing. For a while, Damian
simply stared down at the uneven scaring no thicker than the width of a finger as if he were
committing the sight to memory. She had no doubt he’d seen worse injuries in his time spent
in the League of Assassins, so why was he so mesmerized by this?

It wasn't until he'd done a full revolution of her wrist that the Wayne whispered, "You
mentioned it once before, being handcuffed to your bed in the Red Room. They would’ve had
to make sure the metal was close enough to your skin that you wouldn’t be able to break free
even at the expense of a few sacrificed bones. Too tightly by the looks of it"

Not a question, she realized. He'd figured it out all on his own.
Brooklyn had honestly expected Damian to forget all she'd said that night they spoke of their
pasts by now, that it wouldn't be important enough for him to ponder on or deem important.
But he'd remembered, and it was with a shocked realization that Brook realized he might very
well remember it all. Every damn word she’d said in a moment of stupidity.

Before she could answer, or even pull back from his foreign touch like a smart person, they
both heard a crashing sound from the living room. In tandem, the teens moved away from
their personal space and after a lingering look devoid of the usual hatred or mistrust, they ran
over to see Peter had awoken, the towel on his forehead splattered on the floor as the hero
frantically rubbed his head.

When he caught her eyes, Peter seemed genuinely happy to see her, that is until he noticed
her likely frown, the way her fists began clenching. That's when he moved a hand over his
face, and panic overcame his once calm expression.

"Brook, I swear I can explain everything!" Peter said quickly, standing from the floor with
some difficulty, limping towards her. But the Stark did not move to help in any way this time.

"Who else knows your identity aside from the Avengers and SHIELD?" Brook found herself
asking just as Peter took in the sight of Damian beside her, arms crossed over his chest, and
that deadly glare back in place. Peter paused his approach. To regain back Spider-man’s
attention, she asked the question once more, this time on the border of yelling.

"Just Ned and Aunt May! No one else knows...well Liz's dad knows, but he's in jail and you
have no clue who Liz is-" Brook cut off his rambling with a glare, one so intense Peter sat
back down on the couch, looking like a kicked puppy.

Brook actually had to fight the urge to go comfort her friend, until she realized it was also
Spider-man, the person who had deceived her all this time.

"Anyone else hiding a secret identity at school I should know about?" she asked coldly. And
even when that was meant to be a jab, Peter sheepishly replied, "Well, Ned is the guy who
helped us for the mission. I'm not sure if that's a secret identity but..."

Brook’s anger spanked to life again like a blazing inferno at the revelation.

"So I assume this means you told Ned everything? He knows about my past then!? He knew I
was a worthless assassin and you both still deceived me into pretending to be my friends for
the sake of keeping an eye on me. Did my dad tell you to do it!?" she yelled this time, leaning
closer to the couch as Peter fought the tears in his eyes.

He attempted to stand up again, only to stare at the bandage on his chiseled chest, another
deceit always hidden under his baggy sweaters.

His hazel doe-eyes stared up at Brook pleadingly, "Brook I swear to you I didn't even know
you'd be going to Midtown much less living in my apartment complex. Then you saved me
from Flash and...I swear your dad was as shocked by our friendship as you were!" Peter said
with enough sadness that Brook knew that he was not lying.
She should've seen it coming honestly. Whenever Spider-man was in the compound, Peter
never texted back. Then there was the Stark Internship situation, the fact that Tony knew
exactly who the teen was amongst a sea of likely interns. It was all making her head hurt,
maybe even her heart. So she turned around in the direction of the kitchen again, cleaning her
hands on her SHIELD sweats as she shouted back, "Stay on the couch, when May comes
back you're her problem. I'll make some food"

Before she could linger on the betrayal of having May possibly know who she truly was all
this time, Brooklyn turned to see Damian was still glaring at Peter, eyeing him with utter
distaste.

"We can speak of the intricacies of future plans in the morning, Wayne. I have no intention of
walking with Peter to school for a while," she announced, watching as Peter's eyes filled up
with small tears until she locked her gaze on Damian.

The Wayne had always been a person of few words, but Brooklyn had never appreciated it
more than now as he merely nodded, put his domino mask back on and went out to the
balcony to leave.

Brooklyn was already in the kitchen, too far away to hear the sharp words that Damian said
to Peter, but by the time she took a curious peek, the Wayne's cape was already fluttering
down her railing.

So she angrily made some soup, cursing old Russian slurs at it until its boiling seemed as if it
too was mad at her. Though the girl felt anything but generous in that moment, Brooklyn still
dropped off a bowl for Peter. She didn't dare look at his innocent face once just in case she
caved.

Brooklyn had only risked interaction when she dropped off the washed PJs Damian had worn
last night…more like she threw them at Peter’s face with enough force that he could’ve
pretended to be knocked back from. Apparently, there was no need for acting the part of the
weak nerdy teenager anymore, something Brook wasn’t sure if she should be mad or glad for.

She didn't even explain how she got his pjs, Brook just left him to his own devices after that.

She ate in the kitchen instead, sorting through her feelings until she came to a moment of
harsh realization. Brook wasn’t upset at Peter for keeping a secret. She knew better than that
considering how many secrets were hidden in her own sleeves. She was mad for something
else entirely...something that seemed foolish enough to make her burst out into dark chuckles.

That's when Peter braved to come into the kitchen, not daring to go past the entrance as he
eyed the knife set not too far from Brook wearily. She just took another angry spoonful of her
soup which at that point was as salty as she was.

"I really did want to tell you who I was for some time now, but I was afraid your hatred for
Spider-man would keep you from seeing me for me," Peter whispered somberly despite the
determination in his eyes, enough that some of Brook's resolve broke down at last.
"That's not what I'm mad about," she confessed, "I'm mad because...because it makes you
more perfect"

Peter went wide eyed, waiting for an insult to drop that never came. When he finally sat
down beside her, Brook noted the same clothes that had been on Damian's body looked
different enough on him that they seemed like two entirely different articles of clothing. Not
seeing Peter in his hero suit did calm her down in some sense though, enough to let out her
frustrations at last.

"You are incredibly smart, so sweet and kind that everyone can't help but grow fond of you.
Not only that, but you are a noble superhero with nothing staining your past. It's no wonder
dad treats you like a son...because you ARE the perfect son in every way. You are the one
who should be the Stark, not me!" she huffed out, at last spouting the nasty words that had
been circling her mind like vultures about to pounce on prey.

Peter's eyes had blown impossibly wider at the revelation, it was clear he had no idea what to
say and she wasn’t really expecting an answer. When a single knock came at the door,
Brooklyn eyed the clock propped on the wall and sighed as she stood up, silently making her
way to the door where Aunt May awaited.

Since this was around the time the woman usually came back from work, Brook had sent a
quick text requesting for something to be picked up. As per usual, Aunt May had shown up
just in time with a smile on her beautiful face. Only today the sight of that smile made her
pause. May had known all this time who she was letting into her home, that she was cooking
meals for a killer. Had that been foolishness or kindness?

"Hey, sweetie! You wanted me to pick up Peter's clothes?" the woman asked, fishing out
some keys from her blue hospital garment.

Brook tried to keep her expression neutral as she reached back for the battered mask on the
hangar by the door. When Brook practically tossed it at May, the woman's eyes went wide at
the sight of Spider-man’s possession. Soon after Peter peeked into the hall from the kitchen
behind Brooklyn.

"Something like that," Brooklyn replied, glad to see Peter got the message and went back for
his suit. In the few seconds it took him to do so, Brook avoided the woman's concerned
questions until the hero did the walk of shame to the front door. Before Peter could spout any
more nonsense, she quietly closed the door on them and somehow ended up sitting under the
running shower in equal silence for a few hours.

It was ironic really. Nowadays, it seemed like it was her family enemy that she could trust
more than her best friend…and it stung a bit, even when Black Widows were supposed to
feel nothing and trust no one to begin with. Maybe she should've listened to Ivan's teachings
on deception and emotional attachment.

She'd never cried over something so ridiculous in her life.

This was the height of jealousy, and it didn’t feel good at all. The overwhelming feeling
remained for the next two days when Brooklyn did her best to seem like all was great, but
still avoided direct conversation with Peter like it was the plague.

No one was fooled by her mediocre acting, they knew something was wrong between the two
seeing as it was usually her and Peter who ended up talking the most during lunch and classes
they shared. All she did was assure everyone all was well, another lie to add to the hundreds
swirling around them. She’d even expanded her anger towards the culprit, glaring at Ned
from time to time to let him know he wasn’t off the hook either.

As those two days went by...well, she found she missed Ned and Peter more than she thought
she would. Her first experience at the arcade was not the same with them far away from her,
keeping their distance. Neither was Decathlon practice, or the walks to and from school. She
should've been the more mature person she claimed to be. Brooklyn really should've just
talked to Peter, straightened things out properly for both their sakes...because on the third
day, on a seemingly normal Friday, Brook had deigned to talk to Damian about mission
planning she was finally feeling up for despite her restless nights and awkward school days.

Surprisingly, the Wayne didn’t bother reprimanding her for ignoring him these past two days.
Damian didn't even complain about leaving early for school that morning her way, taking
public transport rather than his usual drop off in a fancy car. That wasn’t to say he was a joy
to be around, but his usual hatred and snark were actually comforting in a way.

As the two made it out of the metro station...well things didn’t end up going well.

They had been too busy planning an attack against the Joker, that they failed to see he had
already planned one against them.
 On Our Own
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

One moment, she and Damian were arguing whether or not Peter would be joining their next
plan of attack, the next, a blinding laser flew right between their faces. It missed them, but it
did melt a poor trash can behind them. Melted would be a simple way of putting it, more like
it reduced the sturdy metal into nothing more than lava.

Their casual calm was gone in an instant. The two turned around, already in fighting stances
as they came face to face with eight clown-masked men holding familiar glowing weapons in
hand. All of them had their gazes right on the unlikely pair, looking far too happy for her
liking.

Brook should've been relieved the Joker had not sent mutants this time, but even then, this
was a shitty bit of misfortune. It was early enough in the morning to avoid Harry and Peter
making their way down the same street, far too early that no one was making their way to
school yet just as they’d planned to avoid being seen together. The street was eerily isolated,
school gates only a block away. No unnecessary casualties. No need to hide their skills.

In the next few seconds in which she should’ve been pondering a plan of attack, all Brook
could think about were Damian's words from not too long ago. Words she should've
dismissed and forgotten, but somehow were more important than anything at that moment,
even with deadly weapons pointed at them and the question of how that came to be.

If it was down to me to save your life, would you trust me to do it?

The answer was undeniable now, because as three laser shots rushed her way, the Wayne's
instincts were faster than hers as he pulled Brook over to the corner of the block, out of
harm's way. The two were panting as they leaned against the dirty wall, listening to the
subsequent shots being fired as bits of concrete broke off from the edge of their cover.

"Looks like the Joker did come after you as promised," Brook said, eyes wide with her hands
clutching the straps of her bag in a deadly hold.

"They’ll close in on us soon. If we wait here long enough for the school to open, they may
even attack passing students to lure me out of hiding" Damian pointed out, which was enough
of a reason for the two to silently agree to let themselves be seen running away along the
emptiest streets she could recall people tended to avoid in favor of quicker routes to school.

They rushed down the streets as fast as they could, side by side, ignoring the occasional
explosion of a street light behind them as they rushed down the cold and empty residential
streets of those unwilling to wake before the fog of the morning faded. Under different
circumstances, Brook might’ve even laughed at the irony of it all.
"At least now you don't think running is the coward's way out. Glad to see you understood
those clowns were too many for us to fight without someone getting hurt, how responsible of
you" Brook mocked, eyeing the road behind them to see the clown masks appearing around
the corner of the alley.

They clearly had orders to kill Damian, it was the only person the Joker knew the identity of
and had a personal vendetta against after the plan they pulled off against him days ago. None
of them could be coming after her, the Joker had no way to pin anything on her and killing
Tony Stark's daughter certainly would’ve never been achieved by waiting for the two teens to
get together on a lonely morning like this. Brook could've feigned being an innocent
bystander to avoid this dangerous situation...but leaving Damian right now to fend for
himself just wasn’t an option in her mind no matter how much she didn’t like the guy.

Brook pathetically reasoned that she’d already been seen running by Damian’s side, there
was no going back now, at least no way that involved ensuring Damian would make it out
safely without being by his side.

It was with growing trepidation that Brooklyn realized she couldn't exactly call her family or
SHIELD for help since they were both indisposed. She wasn't sure if Peter was mad about
her constant avoidance of him, and when she bothered to ask mid turn into another alley,
Damian mentioned his family was equally as preoccupied all over the country.

A cold shiver spread across her body as she realized...they were on their own.

Problem was, no matter how much they ran, how much they tried to obscure themselves from
their pursuers, those bastards were still on their tail. How was that even possible? If only they
had some weapons other than the usual hidden knives. Her Stark watch was powerful, but
would attract too much attention and would not have nearly enough shots to incapacitate all
the villains behind them.

It was almost like they were being tracked like they had...oh...

Brooklyn wasted no more time leading them down a different familiar alley with many twists
and turns to buy them time. That particular passage led to the nearby mall that Tanya had
taken Brook to once for ‘emergency’ shopping purposes. It wasn't nearly as big as the one her
parents had taken her to on those first days as a Stark, but clearly those lackeys were told to
kill without attracting careless police involvement, otherwise they'd both be dead by now.

This was the cover they needed.

Once they reached the bustling front doors, Brooklyn frantically asked for Damian's phone.

"Are you serious right now? At a time like this?" he asked, panting by her side. After a quick
exchange of glares, Damian had barely pulled out the device when Brooklyn all but snatched
it from him, taking the sim cards off both their phones and throwing them in a nearby trash
can.

Damian may have cursed her way in Arabic with some very colorful words, but at least now
they wouldn't be tracked that way, especially if any of them had recognized her as a Stark and
thought to give her phone a try. Given their situation, it was painfully apparent they’d have to
go under the radar until they could contact proper help, or manage to deal with this
themselves.

Lucky for Damian, she was trained for these sorts of situations, and all her immediate anger
was not directed at him for once. They once again had a common enemy. The Joker’s goons.
Plus they also had a common goal. Survival.

Despite his silent glares that spoke volumes of his hatred for this situation, Brook pulled on
his arm and dragged the Wayne into the surprisingly busy mall, even at this early hour.
Businesses had already opened and enough people mingled out in the main halls to ease her
nerves slightly. Taking a few student hostages in an empty street was one thing, shooting up a
mall in a hero’s territory was another. These people would not be hostages today, they’d be
their temporary cover.

She eased them into a normal walking pace and whispered, "Ok, since you’re more of a fight
than flight kind of guy, you should know that when on the run, don't run. We got rid of our
possible trackers too so that's a good start"

Brooklyn might've risked keeping her own sim card for an emergency call, but with her
growing worldwide popularity, it was likely those idiots already reported a Stark had been
caught in the crossfire. They probably assumed Damian was the one who would try and keep
her alive.

Speaking of, they needed disguises fast. Luckily, she’d chosen this particular place for more
than one reason, the most important now being that it was well stocked with a variety of
clothes. Though the two ex-assassins did see some of the criminals sneak inside the mall, the
Joker’s people had chosen to blend in with the crowd for now. She supposed that was good
for the civilians, bad for the two teens considering it would be harder to spot them without
the masks. Considering more and more arrived as the seconds went by, they would be harder
to make out. The only way to recognize any unfriendlies was by the not-so-subtle talking into
their hidden com devices. A novice’s mistake.

Stealth was their friend now until they could leave the mall. Brook focused on her past
training to keep a leveled head, dragging Damian into a random store to purchase different
jackets and shoes with her emergency pocket cash.

It was common for people on the run to leave their same shoes on thinking only clothes made
a difference, a huge mistake since that was a dead giveaway and something people were
trained to look for. Brook swapped her usual heels for a pair of sneakers and flipped her blue
skirt so only the inner black lining would show. Though Tanya had bought her the white
sweater, Brooklyn sadly parted from it, exchanging it for a plain black hoodie to better
obscure her face.

When Damian came out of his own dressing room, he looked like a different person entirely.
The usual elegant turtleneck was replaced by a casual red jacket, his proper and polished
business shoes were exchanged by a pair of sneakers Damian Wayne would never be caught
wearing in real life.
Good.

After altering their outfits a little more, making them look worn with some nearby dirt from a
flower pot, she used the last of her cash to buy different backpacks for their belongings
(which she checked for trackers just in case, even if it was unlikely the Joker’s people ever
got that close to Damian). The two then subtly tossed their clothes into a nearby trashcan and
made their way out of the store with their hoods up. Wearing sunglasses would've helped
obscure their features further, but that would’ve been far too obvious.

In case the criminals had access to the various cameras around the mall, Brook carefully
spotted each one and made sure to turn their gazes enough so that their faces wouldn’t show
on any of them.

She'd urged Damian to keep one of the shopping bags in hand just to keep their cover strong
in case anyone was already nearby. And she'd been right on that assumption.

It was not long after they left the store that Brooklyn was able to assess the situation in its
entirety. The criminals were trying to be subtle, lounging around the mall's various outdoor
sitting areas and railings of various looming floors as they scanned for the two teens. Some of
the cops even had that look about them that had her suspicions rising that no one here could
be trusted. In the time they’d taken to obscure their identities, reinforcements had been
brought in.

Well, shit.

When they passed by a small group of them, Brooklyn made a quick call and held onto her
nemesis' arm. Clutching it to bring him close despite his hiss of annoyance.

"Keep your eyes away from the group walking toward us. Don't talk in case they recognize
your voice, so just...laugh with me" she whispered, almost letting out a sigh of relief when
their little cover worked without need for further explanation.

Hearing Damian laughing had almost stunned her from working on her own acting. Brook
had pulled off a convincing performance...but his effervescent laugh echoed in her head
afterwards like a foreign melody. Thankfully, despite her surprise, it seemed that to everyone
passing by they were just a couple laughing at a simple comment. Nothing that gathered
much attention, especially from the criminals that walked by.

"I spot twenty-three across the mall. Two currently behind us, and three approaching from the
front. It will be a close pass, and they look determined to scan everyone that leaves the mall"
Damian whispered in return, "I can take the three at the front and when the other two come
by, you can tackle them to the store behind us—" Brooklyn interrupted him with a tighter
clutch of his arm.

There simply were too many, being discovered now would be folly. There was no time to
panic or falter, only untrained fools would look at this situation and do something stupid that
would result in them getting caught. Brooklyn may not yet be an adequate hero, but she was
no fool…which is why she grabbed onto Damian's upper arms and gently guided him
towards a nearby wall with the girliest squeal she could muster. Thankfully, Brook had
witnessed Destiny Blake emit such a sound in front of Harry so many times that it was the
perfect rendition of something a love-sick school girl might do.

Still keeping an eye on the approaching enemies, Brooklyn let her back hit the wall next to
that pretzel shop, making sure that Damian's front profile would not be facing the incoming
men. Then came the hard part, the one that would undoubtedly save them, but was starting to
seem less and less appealing with every quickening beat of her heart.

Brooklyn steeled her nerves and put her hands around Damian's stiff neck. Clearly puzzled by
what she was doing, he almost hissed in alarm as she brought her nemesis close enough to
whisper two forbidden words between people like them. "Kiss me"

To say Damian's face morphed into more emotion that she’d ever witnessed before was an
understatement. He looked about ready to bolt out of her hold, but to Brooklyn's relief, the
shock of the statement must've kept him rooted in place.

"Are you out of your mind!?" Damian whispered harshly, his breath tickling her skin.

Yes. Maybe. Definitely.

"Damn it, look around! They’re asking around for us," she said, pointing at the men stopping
everyone that passed or stood near the entrance, "they will leave us alone this way, and I
know that you hate physical contact and all…but you're gonna have to make this one
sacrifice if we’re to pass by undetected. I’ll have you know that public displays of affection
make people very uncomfortable."

Damian's frown deepened, but those forest green eyes suddenly lowered to her lips, then back
to her eyes. Her own quickly took a traitorous peek up at his own, and despite her low
perceptions of him and his own rotten attitude, there were no visible fangs peeking from
within the soft allure of them. Their proximity was almost suffocating at this point when they
both snuck a glance to see the men were only six steps away.

Brook was about to risk a negative reaction from the Wayne by all but yanking him down to
her lips....but it was Damian, with an intense and unreadable gaze and warm hands on her
cheeks that quickly leaned down, emerald eyes shut, who closed the forbidden space between
them.

Brooklyn had to fight the urge to pull away herself as she felt his lips on her own, his strong
nose resting snuggly beside hers, those fingers of his sending a tingling sensation across the
skin of her cheeks. This was...wrong. The lips of a Stark were never supposed to be against
those of a Wayne, members of the League and Red Room had likely never dared this kind of
contact between guilds either.

It was like for the first time in her life, Brooklyn's mind short circuited completely which was
silly considering this had been her idea, a plan she was sure she could remain detached for in
favor of trickery. It was…the vague memory of the looming enemy that caused her hands to
tighten around his neck, bringing them impossibly closer as she awkwardly shifted her head
so they wouldn't just be standing there with lips locked into a silly kiss.
Though Brooklyn knew much about espionage, which had gotten them this far...she had no
experience or clue how to kiss someone. None. Trying to recall unfortunate data gathered
from the couples at school, Brooklyn slowly parted her lips against Damian's, who thankfully
seemed to be as clueless as she was. She'd only meant to make the kiss look more realistic
and passionate to add to the performance that would make the men turn away in disgust, but
the small sacrificial kiss then turned into something more.

Damian's arms hastily wrapped around her waist until every inch of their bodies was pressed
onto one another. Despite his previous annoyance and reluctance, he followed her clumsy
movements until they actually managed to work out a rhythm of head tilting for their lips to
explore every inch of one another.

Something about his minty scent, the warmth and shocking gentleness of his hands on her, it
made Brooklyn forget where she was and who she was kissing. She could only focus on the
delicious pressure of it all, the lingering taste of his morning coffee, and the hard planes of
his body that obscured her from sight of those behind them.

Maybe it was some sort of primal overload traced back to hormonal needs, but Brooklyn
ended up kissing him harder, their labored breaths picking up pace especially when her
traitorous hands reached under his hood to clutch his hair for support. Damian let out a sort of
low growl that Brooklyn had mistaken for anger or discomfort at first. A subtle sign to back
off.

Knowing this kind of intensity wasn’t exactly needed for their act, Brook was ready to pull
her hands back for his sake, but then her nemesis’ gentle hold tightened around her body,
bringing them impossibly closer. Now it was him that initiated a kiss that had their teeth
making contact with one another's with the desperation of it all, a growing plumpness
forming on their lips as they lost themselves in the rhythm.

It was as if no one was around, even the looming danger became nothing but a forgotten
whisper in the wind. All she cared about in that idiotic moment was the feel of his chest
against her own, the way he leaned down to chase her lips as her head hit the back of the
wall...even when it was a terrible mistake.

The cluster of criminals must've already passed by then, deeming the two nameless civilians
useless, clearing the way for their escape. So what the hell was Brooklyn still doing with a
Wayne’s taste on her lips, her hands clutching to him like a lifeline?

With that sudden realization that the mere distraction of this kiss had turned the situation into
something far more than she should’ve allowed, something her family would despise,
Brooklyn harshly pulled their lips apart with a quiet and discontent groan, lowered her once
raised soles onto the floor so that her face lingered before Damian’s chest rather than at level
with his wicked lips.

Both of their breathing was labored after they’d prolonged forgetfulness of humanity’s need
for oxygen. Brooklyn willed her heart to calm before looking up and seeing Damian's green
eyes still held that usual everyday intensity…along with something else. The hatred was still
there, but it was a different sort, and for a second Brook wondered if he hated her enough to
pull her back into another round. No, he’d have to hate himself as much to do so again.
Brooklyn was actually more certain of another outcome, she was waiting for him to yell at
her about that being the stupidest plan in the world, maybe even threaten her life as they often
did between them. Yet Damian surprised her by leaning forward till their foreheads met, his
breathing still labored as her own as he moved his hands to rest on either side of the wall
beside Brook’s head, eyes locked onto her pulsing lips.

Due to that unexpected closeness, Brooklyn quickly noted the slight coating of her glossy
lipstick on his own lips and the intense flecks of dark green in his eyes that she'd never
bothered to notice before. It was a beautiful sight…an alluring one at that.

Oh god, what the hell was she even thinking?

Despite herself, Brook gathered a bit of her sleeve and shifted it to wipe his glossy lips clean
as quickly as she could. Once the evidence of their forbidden closeness had been disposed of,
Brooklyn tried to convince herself the kiss had not happened, but it was a difficult task
considering she could still feel it all. Deep into her bones.

"Decent acting, Wayne. We should…we should go, the men are already a store away" she
whispered, "We should leave the mall before more reinforcements come"

Damian's usual scowl returned slowly, and though he still looked like he wanted to murder
her despite the relaxed nature of his body before her, he eventually nodded and stepped back
faster than she could’ve registered. Brooklyn actually felt the loss of his warmth once they
parted.

Though she longed for nothing more than to be as far from Damian as possible after what
they had done, the two walked out hand in hand to make their performance complete to
anyone looking from the floors up above or in case the families passing by were enemies in
disguise.

Thankfully, they weren’t stopped or spotted.

Neither teen said a thing until they made it to the parking lot where Brooklyn decided to busy
herself with finding a car for them to escape with. There was simply no way they could go
back to her apartment, the Compound, school, or anywhere near Gotham where the Joker
clearly had the most influence. There would no doubt be alien weapons waiting in those usual
spots, ready to fire.

As she carjacked a random Jeep carefully, Damian stood watch by her side. Though she'd
never done it before, Brooklyn had studied the workings of a vehicle down to its last bolt
before driving practice with Happy in hopes that it would help with the new task. It had not.
Which is why Brooklyn stepped aside when the car was finally theirs to use. Remembering
Damian's awareness at her inability to drive, she motioned to the driver's seat with a dramatic
flourish, trying to regain her usual snarky attitude towards him after what had happened
between them.

Damian merely rolled his eyes, but didn’t waste any time getting behind the wheel of the
labeled 1980 Jeep CJ5 that was a painfully bright robin’s egg blue color. She’d only picked
this car because it had spare gas on bins strapped to the back, though the poor thing was
already worn from decades of usage. It was certainly not something anyone would expect to
see the heirs of the two richest families on Earth in.

Already working the controls by the time Brooklyn claimed the passenger seat for her own,
Damian cursed his own distaste of the car as she dumped both their backpacks on the back
seats unceremoniously. Brooklyn wasn’t feeling too guilty over the theft, but she still urged
Damian to get them out of the parking lot before the actual owner of the jeep showed up.

With ease, he guided the vehicle out into the streets as if he'd been driving all his life. Brook
had always assumed someone like Damian would have people driving him around
everywhere for him to be a little rusty on practice. Apparently, she’d been wrong yet again
about her predetermined guesses about the demon beside her.

Pulling her hood down at last, Brook actually dared ask about it. A way to pass the time, or
so she told herself. He was silent for a while, perhaps too angry at her to want to speak.
Though Damian's focus was on the road ahead, hands clutching the wheel a little harder than
before, he eventually sighed in resignation.

"I mastered the art of driving as a child," the Wayne said, "but when I got to Gotham it
became very clear that was not something someone my age should’ve been adept at. Not that
I listened, of course. I got in trouble once, was banned to this day from using any of Bruce's
cars after crashing the Batmobile"

Despite herself, Brook couldn’t hold back a chuckle as she propped her feet on the dash of
the car. Curiosity nipped at her mind as images of a young grumpy child standing beside the
iconic Batmobile in tatters filled her thoughts.

"So you haven't driven since? Suddenly I'm afraid for my life again" she teased, “Maybe I
shouldn’t be this relaxed in case of a repeat of that day”

Just as she made to take her feet off the dash, hands still on the wheel, Damian flashed her a
middle finger that almost had her smiling. Almost.

"When I was grounded so unjustly, I sold a painting at one of Julie McGinnis' art expos for
enough money to buy myself a used luxury car that father had no jurisdiction to ban me from
driving. When I'm not on a mission or at school, I drive it up to Metropolis to see Jon's
family. I assure you, my driving is up to standard"

So he'd been driving since he was a child...and that notebook of his had contained art of high
enough caliber to earn enough money for a car. How was this demon so full of surprises?
More importantly, why wasn’t she more annoyed that he now bested her at two skills?

"Now, does your brilliant escape plan stop here? Because I won't drive around uselessly all
day, especially when that could get us caught once the owner of this vehicle reports it
missing" Damian added with an impatient set of finger tapping against the wheel’s surface.

Brook kept her gaze out her window, more than a little discontent about where her plan was
going, but knowing there was no choice if they hoped to survive for as long as they could
until proper help could arrive to scare off the Joker’s plan to kill Damian where he stood.
This wasn’t her helping a family enemy, it was dodging a common villain with him as an
unfortunate side effect. That's what all of this was, nothing more.

"We're getting supplies first from somewhere we'd never be expected to go to. Stores have
too many cameras for us to risk a casual stop anywhere here. Then...we're going to a safe
house for the time being" she muttered discontentedly, leaning her head back on the headrest
and staring up at the retractable roof. If she’d bothered to believe in gods, Brooklyn might’ve
considered praying up to the skies for the patience this sudden mission would demand of her.

"Where are we supposed to get things if not from a store?" her unexpected companion
complained, almost as if to prove her point for the need of divine patience. Brooklyn merely
rolled her eyes at the sarcasm, allowing a lazy smirk to fall into place to obscure her sudden
nervousness.

"Take the next exit," she said, pointing up ahead, "We're headed to Brooklyn"

Damian POV-

The drive was not long at all, but they made the journey longer by taking less ventured streets
to avoid identification of the car in case it was already reported as stolen. That meant
spending more time in this cramped piece of trash vehicle than necessary, which was most
certainly not the highlight of his day.

Damian knew how to get to the city of Brooklyn, but once there, he was at the mercy of
Brooklyn's vague and careful directions. From the few times he'd bothered sneaking a
hesitant glance her way, he couldn’t help but notice she seemed worried. Understandably so
he supposed, they were meant to be in school, their separate friends were likely trying to get a
hold of them to no avail. Like the Stark had probably already worked out, Damian knew the
police there wouldn't be able to keep them safe from the kinds of weapons their enemy
currently brandished, meaning they needed to get as far away as possible until the Joker gave
up his search.

This was the clown's window of opportunity to get at father’s children, and he'd taken it
without hesitation. Damian just hoped this wouldn’t give anyone in the household license to
mock him for insisting he didn’t need an escort to school in these dangerous times. The Stark
had wanted to talk that morning which had him ditching a ride or Jon’s company, a rare
occurrence, which likely meant the Joker’s goons had been watching him for some time…
just as his ‘family’ had predicted.

Dick was busy back home dealing with everyday crime while the others were out of Gotham
tracking the Joker. Calling them would’ve been as useless as phoning his father or Selina who
were stuck with a tight schedule of medical examinations and company work they couldn't
avoid. Even their backup in case of emergency was preoccupied. Pennyworth had mentioned
something about taking Barbara to Maine to see a special therapist for her condition, which
had made it easy to sneak to meet Brooklyn Stark this morning, but left Damian with no
options for backup now.
Even though he wasn’t one to rely on the help of others, Damian hadn’t realized how much
he’d grown to rely on the fact that someone would always be around until now. Ironically
enough, all he had now to rely on was Brooklyn Stark, and so far it had been far more than
he’d bargained for…

The memory of their earlier osculation from exactly thirty minutes and twelve seconds ago
would occasionally replay in his treacherous mind as a reminder to his betrayal to the Wayne
family name. He'd only been counting the time since to keep his mind occupied, of course.
Even so, revisiting the time since his unexpected closeness to another being wasn’t exactly a
comfort.

Damian NEVER wanted to experience that again.

It was as if his body and mind had lost complete control, and as someone who always had
their faculties in order...it had been disorienting to say the least. He should've put his foot
down and demanded another solution. Hell, Damian should've broken off that…kiss as soon
as the idiots tracking them had left their vicinity.

His lips were still warm and plump with the imprint of her own, the fingers on the steering
wheel were still burning from where they had touched her clothed hips. Grasping like a
lifeline was more like it, even if he detested to recall it. Carnal release of any sort wasn’t
exactly banned in the League of Assassins, but it was frowned upon when pursued in the way
most foolish individuals did. Those that sought that kind of closeness for the emotions behind
it, the cherishing of another individual…they were fools, nothing but pathetic insects that
allowed themselves to be swallowed by distractions.

Damian had discarded many of his past beliefs to better fit into his father’s lifestyle, but
being close to someone was one thing he’d sworn never to allow as a weakness. He preferred
solitude, personal space, and a detachment from the emotions that vexed all beings into
making irrational choices.

It was likely because of the wrongness of it all that the feeling of Brooklyn Stark still
lingered as a warning to never do it again. Yes, that had to be the logical explanation. His
temporary loss of control was nothing more than a strategic move to make their performance
more believable, yet despite their brilliant illusion, it was something he best forget and never
ponder on for the rest of his life.

Beside him, Brooklyn kept her gaze on the passing buildings outside during the silent ride,
her face obscured from him by her loose auburn hair that cascaded down after its
confinement under that hood earlier. Damian couldn’t see if her lips were still as delicately
swollen as his…not that he cared, he just thought it odd she hadn’t tried to make a joke of
what had happened yet. That she avoided looking his way.

Her instructions were imminent when they came, but not sudden enough that Damian had to
be constantly alert. It was almost as if she knew these foreign streets like the back of her
hand, was aware of what troubles he’d stumble upon and how long he needed to make proper
turns without catching the attention of anyone outside. Eventually after navigating through
the many backwater alleys of the bustling city, their destination ended up being the small
parking lot of an unassuming Café & Diner. From what Damian could tell, the place was
retro themed and not too busy at this time of day.

But why here of all places? Surely after the Stark’s plethora of instructions about secrecy and
espionage, she wouldn’t be faltering in her craft so soon.

"Just because this place looks old doesn't mean there aren't cameras inside, Stark" he pointed
out, "If you wanted food we could've risked any of the gas stations we passed just for that"

Brooklyn lazily unfastened her seatbelt, stretching out her legs before leaving the Jeep. After
a silent curse, Damian stupidly followed. He wouldn’t let it show, but he was surprised to see
she wasn't going to the front of the establishment, but rather the employee entrance located in
an unsuspecting alley. He’d assumed they’d have to add breaking and entering to their list of
daily crimes along with thievery of a vehicle when the Stark began to knock rapidly on the
door a few times as if she were a welcomed guest.

Damian was about to demand an explanation when a tall man opened the door, slowly
peeking his head out.

"By Merlin’s beard! Brook, Is that you?" the middle aged man asked, and Damian was more
than a little surprised to see his companion genuinely smile as she pulled the door open all
the way.

"I thought I told you to put a chain lock on this door, Marshall. Any criminal could've kicked
it open" she reprimanded, and though her tone was calm and perhaps even playful, there was
no masking the genuine concern in his enemy’s voice.

The man opened the rest door in an instant taking in Brooklyn's form before smiling wide.
The Wayne was expecting a SHIELD agent...not a person like that. The middle aged man had
crazed brown hair and specs that rested atop the wild tresses that looked as if they belonged
in a museum. This so-called Marshall was also peculiarly dressed. Long red pants as bright as
Brooklyn's usual lipstick shade, a very wrinkled yellow Hawaiian shirt…and two bare feet
without shoes to complete the look belonging to an inmate of Arkham Asylum.

Out of all the company Damian expected his rival to keep, this was certainly not it. No matter
how much he examined the man, it was painfully obvious this wasn’t some agent in disguise
or an old assassin colleague. It was just a regular man…one that looked as if he’d lost his
mind years ago.

"You, young lady, have a lot of explaining to do," the man said, snapping a small ancient
book in his hand shut, "One moment, you’re late and don't show up for work. The next, I
have a group of suits coming in while you're all over the news with your name next to an
Avenger’s"

Brooklyn's hurry to get them inside the building halted then. Standing at the entrance with a
fist against the door, the Stark looked away from the man as she whispered almost nervously,
"Look, I promise to explain everything to you, but right now there are some people out trying
to kill us. You don't have to let us in, but you're one of the few people I trust"
The man's eyes widened at the words. Without even taking a second to consider his safety, he
ushered Brooklyn inside, spared an even wider eyed look at Damian, and then proceeded to
push him inside what looked to be an employee locker room.

Damian may choose to remain silent, but hadn’t missed that bit of information about the
Stark working in this place, which he assumed must've been before she was found by her
father. Something about this small space, imagining Brooklyn Stark working here for a
minimum wage salary...it didn’t fit the image of the person she was now.

How could Brooklyn, the daughter of Tony Stark, look working the machines barely visible
out front? Wearing the frilly uniform hanging by the employee lockers? How would she look
amongst the neon lights of this place, no doubt dancing to the music from the jukebox out
front the way she had that morning he'd stayed at her apartment?

It was an odd thought Damian decided not to linger on, especially when Brooklyn seemed to
relax at last after pressing a nearby table against the back door. They’d been careful not to be
followed, but it must’ve been instinct to secure that extra level of security. He knew because
if she hadn’t done it, Damian would’ve certainly gone over to ensure their entrance was not
so easily brought down during an ambush.

After Marshall rushed up front to close up shop, ever the accommodating host by bringing
them some coffee and scones, Brooklyn gracefully sat on a chair beside Damian, both of
them situated before the man's desk in silence as they waited. The Wayne didn’t miss the way
the girl looked at the room with a sort of masked sadness, almost with a repressed longing
that Damian didn’t understand.

The closing of locks continued to resonate from the store front, and the shuffling of hurried
steps became near frantic, as did the mumbling from the man ensuring all the curtains were
closed tight. Damian was halfway through his coffee after not having realized earlier how
hungry he really was, when he sensed movement from his right.

He was ready to drop the plastic cup and attack when the teen noticed it was nothing but a
small cat, looking up at him with curious black eyes. The Stark turned to see what snagged
his attention almost as if she’d take on the intruder by Damian’s side, only to frown when she
saw the furry creature that had already decided to climb on his lap.

"Great," Brook huffed, "of course Marshall kept the stupid thing. He has a thing for taking
care of strays, which I suppose would include me in that category"

The words were soft enough that he figured they hadn't been meant for him to hear or reply
to, but it still painted a better image of who he imagined the girl to be before she’d left this
city. It wasn’t very lively despite the splash of colors this place favored.

Damian was already absentmindedly petting the animal, listening to its content purring when
Marshall came back and practically threw himself on the desk chair before them. A simple
eyebrow raise was enough for Brooklyn to tiredly get into the tale she'd already shared with
Damian long ago. Of course, this one was less detailed, either for the man's safety or sanity.
Brooklyn craftily left out the assassin bits of her tale, even the secret work they'd been doing
lately that may or may not have landed them in this position. In fact, the story centered
mostly on her family.

The owner of the establishment listened intently to the tale, frowning when Brooklyn kept the
details of their current situation vague, only saying there were some family enemies after
them, which wasn’t the worst excuse considering she was the daughter of a famed hero.

"And who might you be? Brooklyn doesn't exactly talk to many people, much less go into
hiding with them" Marshall asked Damian, then proceeded to shoot Brooklyn a very obvious
thumbs up that both teens had no clue how to interpret. It only served to prove his point that
the man may very well have lost his mind.

Brooklyn leaned back on her seat, raising her hands in defense…letting Damian decide what
he would and wouldn't say before someone he didn’t know. He couldn’t figure out if it was a
kindness or if the Stark was just tired of spinning webs of lies for today. Either way, he was
pleased with the idea of having a choice which he hoped would turn out better than his last
one when he closed that gap between himself and Brooklyn.

Normally, Damian would prefer to keep his identity a secret from those he deemed strangers.
Though he hated to admit it, the fact that the Stark trusted this man, however wild and
questionable he looked, ended up being the only reason he forewent that usual approach and
introduced himself, stretching out a hand for the man to shake.

Maybe it was the seriousness of Damian's face, or the manners people his age often lacked,
but Marshall matched the formalism with a hand shake and a proper introduction on his part.
An unexpected greeting between gentlemen that Damian hadn’t expected the man to be able
to accomplish, which impressed him slightly. Brooklyn merely rolled her eyes at the two,
serving herself another cup of coffee with practiced expertise while shooting a few glares at
the cat happily lounging on Damian's lap.

"Though that's a lot to process in a matter of minutes, I’m not exactly surprised you’ve
managed to attract such a…crazy life for yourself. Never mind that you came here with a
family enemy, doesn't your dad have a place for you to stay in?" Marshall asked, taking his
hand back while he shot his previous employee a worried look, "You can both stay here as
long as you like, but some regulars here could’ve recognized you from the news on the way.
Could this...enemy of Iron Man have a way to track you here that way?"

Damian was about to delight in telling Brooklyn how idiotic it was to have come here until
she shook her head, red hair illuminated like a living flame against the golden lights above
now that their hoods were off.

"I'm not here to hide, I came for supplies," she clarified, "Remember that day I asked if you
could hold on to some of my things in case of an emergency?"

Marshall took off his ancient specs, nodding silently as he began sorting through the lockers
behind his desk until he came up with a sturdy black duffle bag with a lock. The man
struggled getting the bag over the table, only for the Stark to haul it over to her side with
ease.
"What the hell is in that thing? I assumed you left a few changes of clothes, maybe hygienic
products" the man said, leaning over the table as Brooklyn put the code in. Damian found
himself leaning closer as well, not at all surprised to see the bag was stocked with a few PSS
silent pistols, money (American, Mexican, Canadian, and European), all the supposed needed
to make decent fake IDs, and even a portable GPS.

Surprisingly, Brooklyn actually trusted Damian enough to hand him one of the pistols which
she loaded with ease right in front of her boss, then pulled out a few bills of American
currency and gave them to Marshall.

"We need some food for the road since we won't be able to stop anywhere," Brooklyn said,
"Mind giving us some from here? Once we’re stocked, we’ll have to leave. Not just for our
safety but for yours as well"

The man was still staring aghast at the unloaded guns, at the supplies he'd unknowingly kept
in his shop. Yet, he didn’t kick them out or scold them for the weaponry, he just shuffled out
to the front with a spare duffle bag. He did however shout a complaint over his shoulder
about it being unnecessary to pay him for the food, at which point Brooklyn practically
stuffed the money inside his desk.

Once the man disappeared out the front again, silence blanketed the room save for the sound
of Brooklyn loading a few weapons and counting the spare rounds she had. They were all
good quality, stuff Todd would’ve most certainly purchased for himself despite his extensive
selective tendencies when it came to guns.

"Why did you keep this stuff here?" Damian asked, at last gaining the attention of the brown-
eyed girl. She was astoundingly calm now that they had something to defend themselves with
aside from that watch of hers and the small daggers in his backpack. If he was being honest,
Damian felt that relaxing spell wash over him as well, especially while petting the sleeping
cat purring against his stomach.

Brooklyn eyed the open door to the front, making sure Marshall was still busy in the kitchen
before leaning forward on her chair and whispering, "I had a bag just like this back in my
shitty apartment, one here, and the other hidden at my old school. It's an assortment of
supplies in case I ever had to go on the run at a moment's notice. A good habit to keep"

Damian understood that to some degree, it would be how a trained spy would act, but one
question still remained in mind.

"What would you have run away from? Especially back when you were a nobody working at
a mundane restaurant" he asked tentatively.

Brooklyn smiled, but not one of those teasing smirks, this pull of her lips made her look
haunted. She only hesitated for a second before sighing out in resignation, one of the hands
that had gripped his own hair earlier moving to rub her forehead.

"The Red Room of course," Brooklyn replied, nervously tracing the rim of her cup with her
other hand as she added rather harshly, "I did a decent job keeping on the down low in case
the Red Room found out what I did the day I escaped, if they realized I could still be alive
and went looking"

The mere memory of that place haunted her enough that Brooklyn had spent her life in hiding
and ready to leave it all and go on the run on the off chance they might try to kill her, or
whatever remained of the Red Room anyways. He supposed being haunted by that unknown
place might not be such a pathetic fear to have, Damian had never forgotten the feel of the
harsh dips of injuries across her back, nor the sight of the old wounds hidden by her watch
and sweater.

As his enemy, he should’ve mocked her for it…but perhaps the paranoia was not entirely
misplaced after all. It was not a joking matter if such a fate would come to pass.

Damian remembered the assassin code with vivid clarity despite how long it had been since
he'd been around the League. He knew her betrayal was enough for a public execution, one
that could last for days. In fact, as the heir to the rebuilding League of Assassins, Damian
might even be called in to witness it should it happen, as would the other leaders from the
assassin guilds all around the world. Now that Damian had lived around six years with his
father, he would've likely ignored the invitation from his mother until she came for him.
Bruce would've been forced to relent to the agreement, and Damian would have to witness it
all with as much care as seeing a fly dying before his eyes.

The Wayne had never even stopped to think about it all. Brooklyn had not only betrayed her
people, but she left with the enemy, and was now a government agent. That was the highest
form of treason, one their people wouldn’t take lightly even now. From the haunted look
within her hardening gaze, he knew the fear of that possibility remained after all this time.

Even for him there was something unsettling about it now. When he should be rejoicing at
seeing his enemy basking in pain and worry, Damian felt nothing but cold dread. Perhaps it
was because he'd seen Brooklyn save innocents, even if she was infuriating, there was
something redeemable in her.

If that day ever came when she was captured and set for torture for her crimes, would he even
try and save her? The answer should’ve been a resounding no, taking into account the fact
that he’d become a criminal of the guilds. Despite not wanting to associate with them, he’d
always chosen self preservation first. Only now, the answer was uncertain. Not a resounding
yes, but it wasn’t the simple no that should've come easy to him considering she was his
enemy in more than one way.

By the time Marshall came back with a few days worth of food, Brooklyn reached out and
hugged the man. He seemed shocked by the action, but eagerly returned the embrace while
Damian was forced to watch their sentimental moment without knowing what to do with
himself.

"Once this mess is over, I'll come visit," Brooklyn promised, "I'm in dire need of good
coffee"

The man laughed, "Glad to see your standards haven't lowered in Queens"
Before the Stark could turn back to Damian, the man pressed a worn book into her hands he
fished out from his back pocket. The thing was so old that any title it must've possessed had
long since faded with time, but the girl accepted it nonetheless. It was almost as if she had
expected the gift despite not asking him for it.

"In case you get bored on the road, I think you will find that book very helpful someday,"
Marshall said with a kind gaze full of lingering tears, then patted the girl on the back, "Go on
then, Grace O'Malley. Stay out of trouble until the Iron Man comes back"

Grace O'Malley. What a...unique form of endearment.

Thankfully, this meant their odd stop was over. Brooklyn made her way to the door with the
book clutched to her chest, Damian trailing behind her with the duffle bags until the man
placed a hand on his shoulder from behind. The teen quickly shoved it off. He despised being
touched, and even this man's usefulness and kindness did not change that fact, nor had his
slip-up with Brooklyn earlier.

Marshall didn’t appear offended about the swift action, but he did lean closer to whisper out
of Brooklyn's hearing range, "Take good care of that girl, Damian Wayne. I can see it in her
eyes that she will go to the ends of the world to keep you safe, thus I expect the same from
you…especially right now when everything seems to be going off the rails. Enough that she’s
actually afraid"

"You’re mistaken. In case you didn’t catch it earlier, she and I are enemies by blood," Damian
clarified for the clueless man, "Once this mess is over, we’ll go back to hating one another as
our families have wisely done for centuries. She would sooner die for me when hell freezes
over and the skies become a blazing inferno"

Marshall laughed, "Do you not see what you have, boy?"

Damian gazed up at the tall figure as if he'd gone insane, which perhaps Marshall was
considering everything he’d observed. But he’d talked to crazy individuals before, including
but not limited to the Joker. This man was different somehow.

"I have nothing to do with her," Damian spat out, perhaps a bit defensively as memories of
the mall and every mission together before that swirled in his mind.

The man only smiled wider.

"It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a
decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it
is inconceivable that you should ever part," he said, voice calm as if he were reciting a
delicate poem, "Its from Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres. When confusion
clouds you to the point that your predetermined thoughts are of no help, look up the rest of
that passage, Mr. Wayne. Perhaps you'll thank me one day for it"

“It doesn’t even rhyme” he argued.

“Not every beautiful poem rhymes, boy. You’d do well to remember that”
Before Damian could lose his temper at blatant testing with odd riddles and complete
madness from the man, Brooklyn was already yelling for him to hurry up from outside the
door. Though he hadn’t exactly planned to thank the man for the supplies, he certainly wasn’t
going to do that now. The teen didn't dare look back towards the odd smiling man, but stored
those words in the back of his head just in case there was something aside from mindless
ramblings within them.

Once all the stuff was placed safely in the trunk of the car, Brooklyn came back from a little
shed behind the diner waving around two worn car plates.

"Marshall has a car in there that no longer works but keeps because he’s a shameless hoarder.
I figured we can change the plates to have more peace of mind on the road this time" she
said, already using a small dagger to unscrew them.

Damian leaned against the car, refusing to admit that as a good idea. Instead, he eyed the cat
that was once in his lap, now next to Marshall as he saw them off from the safety of the door.
Even the curious feline seemed to be smiling at the sight of the two teens.

He turned his gaze down to the kneeling Stark beside him, crossing his arms as he muttered
unhappily, "Where, pray tell, are we going to go anyways? Even if your father owns a
thousand homes across the country, that's the first place anyone with ill intentions will look
for us when it's reported I was chased off with you. My own array of homes in Gotham may
be compromised at this point with how thorough he Joker tends to be"

Brooklyn looked up at him with a roll of her eyes, "We're going to a safe house that has
nothing to do with my dad, smart ass"

"Where might that be exactly?"

The teen smirked at last, a familiar sight that both soothed and worried him as she whispered,
"Close enough in case things get out of hand here, but far enough that the Joker won't bother
looking"

Once the plates were changed and Damian started the Jeep’s engine, Brooklyn put in the
address into the GPS between them. Damian wasn’t sure what to expect in the middle of
nowhere Ohio, but he drove there blindly anyway...

Brooklyn POV-

"As the person driving, I should be the one in charge of the music," Damian argued with the
finality of an undebatable order.

Brooklyn was far too busy trying to calm her nerves, maybe even gain a sense of safety by
singing along to whatever song was on the radio. Besides, now that they were on a
countryside road, it was finally safe to roll down the windows and just...relish in a freedom
she’d been deprived of since this chase and escape happened.
The nine hour drive felt like it dragged on for much longer. They did manage to eat along the
way without stopping (which unfortunately meant Brook had to assist Damian by handing
him his food from time to time), but that was a necessary precaution to ensure no one could
spot them even this far out from their homes. The spare gas had kept them from going to a
gas station too, which meant they were actually making good time without unnecessary risks.

That was good for her peace of mind even when her thoughts kept wandering back to school
now and again. Fridays were not Decathlon days, but after missing a day of school
unannounced, Brooklyn just knew her friends would be worried. Or at least some selfish part
of her hoped so. If she really strained to look on the bright side of all of this, Brook supposed
it had to be the fact that her friends were all home safe by now…but Brooklyn would have to
make up a lot of school work once she returned, as well as figure out an excuse for going
missing the same time her mortal enemy wasn’t seen on school grounds.

Most would assume it was due to family rivalry gone wrong. Well...maybe not Peter.

Brook was still being hunted down by the Joker and his allies, her family was hopefully safe
but still preoccupied with world saving missions, and Brook had no other allies to contact for
help. A few hours of peace might do her some good before she let the gravity of it all sink
in…the fact that she was out on an ‘adventure’ with Damian Wayne, an adrenaline spiking
adventure no less. Those were the kind that one tended to remember forever, unfortunately.

The worst part was that she had so blatantly underestimated the Joker, pissed him off enough
that killing Damian had become a very attractive option for him. Sure, she and the guys could
deal with little ambushes, but this was slowly becoming more than just a hunt to stop
criminals with illegally manufactured weapons. This was an Avengers level threat that was
far bigger than all the problems she'd been taught to deal with, especially now that Brooklyn
had many people she cared about keeping alive and unharmed.

The Wayne on the driver's seat beside her was not supposed to be one of those people.

Some part of her, the remnants of her old assassin logic, urged her to ditch Damian for her
own survival. Maybe even hand him to the Joker in exchange for information. But then the
bigger part of her would always shut down that idea as quickly as it came, because Brooklyn
knew that turning the demon in would mean his death and...well, he’d saved her life back at
the mall.

They kissed and...couldn't she just have one day of normalcy? Just one?

With her shoeless feet resting on the dash, seat leaned back and shades on, Brooklyn turned
to face her angry driver who clearly despised her taste in music. Yet, even when he could've
reached over and changed the station hours ago, he'd yet to do so. She knew better than to
assume Damian was just lazy or incapable of focusing on two actions at once, which left her
mildly puzzled.

"For your information, it's a decent song," she pointed out, "I used to listen to it on my way to
school every morning back when I lived in Brooklyn"
Damian kept his gaze on the road for the most part, ever the responsible driver, but he did
sneak a glare her way for a few seconds this time. Those intense emerald eyes of his felt like
spotlights that could see into her very soul.

He mocked, "In that case, not only do you have a questionable taste in cars, but also in music.
How am I not surprised? Then again, I’m appalled by the fact that you even like music"

Brooklyn could understand where he came from, mostly because she'd been shocked at his
affinity for art. She likely wouldn't have believed he bought a car with those skills of his had
she not seen his work first hand. An ex-killer who was as skilled with a pen as he was with a
blade, now she truly had seen it all.

"It was one of the first things I learned to behold with joy when I left Russia. The neighbors
from my foster care home used to blast music all the time, and I found I quite enjoyed it.
Even a constant loner like me can appreciate musical beauty," Brook confessed, once again
berating herself mentally for allowing another private memory to be shared with that bastard.

It frightened her at times, how easy it was to talk to Damian about the bad things no one else
knew about. Almost as much as it frightened her to think of the kiss she’d so easily gotten
lost in against her better judgment.

"Constant loner?" Damian questioned, then hesitantly added, "Does that mean that our
peculiar circumstance back at the mall...that it was your first kiss?"

Brooklyn was certain her cheeks went ablaze, she could feel it. Moving her head to face the
window, she tried to let the air cool her embarrassment. How she'd hoped he'd never bring
that up all these hours, only for Damian to bring up the topic when she let her guard down.

"We should never speak of that ever again...but maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. It's certainly
not something that should concern you" the Stark said as steadily as she could, keeping her
gaze on the passing trees and the setting sun as she decided the best course of action now
would be to turn the embarrassment away from herself. However cowardly that made her.

Brooklyn tried to dissipate the feeling of his warm body against hers like a cocoon of safety,
the surprising sweetness of his lips despite being so cold and bitter in character. Though their
movements were desperate by nature, there had been a subtle and delicate candor in his eyes
afterwards that almost had Brook forgetting everything in her surroundings for once.

"It couldn't have been your first kiss, right? You being a lady killer and all, I'm sure there are
many girls back in Gotham that can claim the ‘honor’ of kissing the heir of the Wayne name"
Brook found herself subtly asking with a pinch of humor for her benefit. Knowing how many
girls Damian kissed with urgency as he had with her would most certainly be something
she’d rather never ponder on for the rest of her life.

When his hands clenched together on the wheel and his gaze shifted as far from hers as
possible while still looking at the road, she was reminded of one the most basic things about
her enemy. Damian HATED to be touched, so that could only mean...
Brooklyn suddenly sat up in her seat, eyes wide as she said over the sound of the merry tune
encompassing the space, "That was YOUR first kiss wasn't it!?"

Damian, for once in his life, didn’t look as if he were all toughness and impassiveness. He
almost seemed to sink into his seat as he hissed back, "Like you said, we will never speak of
this again. It's not something that should concern you"

Oh, but this was the kind of thing Brooklyn had been waiting for. A chance to get back to
their normal flow of things with some teasing banter here and there to remind her of their
status as self-proclaimed mortal enemies.

"Don't you realize what this means!?" she said enthusiastically, "Now you will always
remember that I, your great nemesis, was your first kiss ever! The person you hate the most
in this world is the one you shared that very important milestone with. Good luck affording
all the therapy you'll need for that one!"

Her joy was painfully short-lived when Damian threw a half eaten croissant at her face while
still keeping an eye on the road. Though his eye was twitching with restrained anger, there
was something about his focused quiet that had her shivering long before he said the words
that might very well haunt her for eternity.

"Likewise, Stark"

Likewise because...right. As much as she hated to admit it, that had also been her first kiss,
one Brooklyn had never yearned for the way other girls did, but had still found herself
longing to be close to someone like that as of recently. It was the myth surrounding the
gloriousness of a first kiss, the promise of such lively emotions that had sparked her curiosity
over the matter.

Only not with Damian Wayne, obviously.

Yet Brooklyn found herself wondering if all kisses were supposed to be like that. Raw and
passionate, warm and thrilling, something that made one lose complete sense of who they
were. Brook had been cursed with the unfortunate luck of seeing Harry kiss many girls at
school, but he'd never looked breathless after the fact, not the way she and Damian had. Her
friend hadn't seemed like he was losing his mind, not like the snapping out of a spell
afterwards she’d felt.

Maybe that was just the ‘Damian experience’. Though she did briefly wonder what it had felt
like for the Wayne, she decided not to voice that ridiculous question. It would only lead
Brook into looking like a fool seeing as he’d only done his part to make the performance
convincing.

"Fine, it's a tie. We'll never speak of that again, especially since I'll never be able to tell my
friends or family that a Wayne was my first kiss. Imagine the horror of that?" Brook said,
eyes wandering back to her trusty Stark watch.

If for some unfortunate reason her dad or Damian’s would ever find out about what happened
today, they’d do more than freak out as she had. It could very well be seen as a declaration of
war between both families, if not an urgent call to switch them both out of Midtown and onto
opposite sides of the world.

Adrenaline induced memories...Brook was so ‘lucky’ that those were life lasting.

Surprisingly, Damian's mood shifted then. Brooklyn only briefly caught the way his mouth
quirked up into the smallest of smiles that she had almost questioned if it had been a trick of
the light until he opened his damn mouth.

"So I was your first kiss?" he said matter of factly, "You should be glad I played along to your
charade and that it actually worked out in the end. Otherwise we’d be stuck with unsavory
memories in the afterlife right about now"

Eyeing the portable GPS, Brooklyn tracked the progress as they neared their unknown
destination. Not quickly enough in her opinion.

"For your information, this plan will work out as well without the need for further unwanted
closeness. Once my family is done with their mission, this is the first place they'll look for
when they can't find me. When we're in their hands, well...we can plan from there" she said,
already dreading the lecture from Tony once he saw Wayne Jr in their midsts.

"You still haven't told me about this safe house, of which I didn't even know Starks would
bother with having, seeing as your all mighty and powerful enough to deal with the world’s
dangers"

Brooklyn tried not to let her unease show as they drove down the empty dirt road.

"I'm aware of many SHIELD safe houses, and they're not my dad’s. Before they dealt with
crazy threats, Natasha told me SHIELD created a large array of hidden temporary bases that
were used for war time or during petty conflicts...at least when normal human conflicts were
still a thing” she mused, eyes closed, “A world war ravages the world, then threats move and
suddenly there’s a Cold War. All of that stuff happens and soon enough you have a lot of
abandoned safe houses across the country for moments like these. It's why SHIELD never
tore them down, for when the next conflict starts and they could end up in those safe houses
again"

She figured no one at SHIELD would ever imagine one of those places would be used to
house two teens running from a crazed clown, but at least they were prepared nonetheless.

"How many are there then? SHIELD safe houses?"

"After all this time...likely more than we would imagine," she said, "when I first heard of
such places I asked Nat how they could deal with it all...working so hard to save the planet
when they also have to save humanity from themselves and their petty wars. She often tells
me that conflict comes in many forms, it's not always alien armies descending from the
heavens, but that doesn't make the threat any less so"

"Considering who we're fleeing from, I'd say she's right"

Nat was always painfully correct. Brook had thought this mess with the alien weapons would
be nothing but an easy task when compared to things like the Battle of New York which
she’d also lived through. Now she was in an old Jeep with an enemy, heading towards some
bunker from World War 1 to spare her life.

"My Uncle Barton told me that if I ever needed a place to lay low, that this would be the
safest place in the world for me. He made me memorize the coordinates during training, then
made me swear I'd think of it before any other safe house I was told about…meaning it's
probably not as run down as others" she said, tapping a finger on her leg along to the tune.

The Wayne didn't question it further, but just as they were only a few miles from the
destination (good thing too since they were running out of gas), Brooklyn caught sight of the
teen subtly tapping along to the song as well. Even when she hated him more than anything,
the sight brought a smile to her face. At least that meant the demon had the emotional
capacity to like mundane things like music as well, even if he wouldn't admit it.

So despite the unknown safety of a hidden bunker and the promise of the danger they’d left
behind, Brook tried to hum her worries away the way she used to as a child back in that
horrible foster home or hers. At some point she even convinced Damian to put down the roof
of the Jeep so she could bask in the afternoon breeze after being hauled up in that vehicle all
day.

When she dared to stand on her seat, clutching the top of the car, Damian looked like he
might reprimand her. But ultimately she was able to bask in the loneliness of the road with no
public eyes on the ‘prized’ Stark for once. Arms stretched wide beside her, Brooklyn smiled
up at the last rays of sunshine, feeling like an insignificant person in a massive world for once
in a long time.

Brook eventually looked down to see Damian was surprisingly staring up at her, taking his
eyes off the road despite his constant vigilance during the whole trip. She knew better than to
invite him to just let loose alongside her, he’d refuse and Brook wasn’t exactly keen on
having him join her on such a private moment of blissful joy. Yet the urge to offer remained
at the tip of her tongue as she directed that beaming smile of freedom down at his casual
form, an odd kindness they could forget about alongside their shared kiss once they left the
country side for their old lives where Starks and Waynes weren’t meant to even glance at one
another without the promise of death.

The way he was looking up at her, it was as if Damian had no idea what he was gazing at, yet
refused to look away. Her smile only dimmed when she noticed the road ending a mile away.

That brought her back to the present and had her settling back on the seat, carefully scanning
their surroundings even when Clint Barton had sworn the place was safe. Only Brooklyn had
imagined it to be a hidden bunker deep into the forest, maybe even a run down apartment in a
ghost town. She'd been expecting a dusty room full of combat suits, racks of weapons in
storage boxes, shattered windows that were just an illusion done by some high tech
projection or paint on glass.

What Brooklyn was not expecting was...was that a farmhouse?

Chapter End Notes

So much happened in this chapter, I know!

For those of you who understood the Jeep reference, thumbs up for you! When I was
envisioning that particular scene that Jeep just kept popping up in my head no matter
what car I tried to change it to. Figured I might as well keep it in.

As for those of you who recognized the patchy dialogue of the kiss scene from Captain
America Winter Soldier, I wanted to do the scene similarly to that because I feel like
Brook and Nat think very much alike when it comes to espionage and their training as a
whole. Of course this moment was a little different.

I hope you're enjoying the story so far and will like the safe house. We'll see some
familiar characters there for those that have delved into the MCU movies.
 The Safe House
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Brooklyn stood alert beside Damian, both with guns at the ready in hand, backpacks strapped
tightly across their backs in case they needed to bolt to the car at a moment's notice. Both
kept their hoods up and had even chosen to park a good distance away from the main home
for extra safety.

The reason for their monumental distrust was more than just being in a new place after being
hunted down for a whole day, but more so because it was apparent now the safe house
couldn't possibly be abandoned. Both teens had been quick to notice this place was currently
inhabited rather than an abandoned and dusty building used in wars past.

The grass was neatly trimmed, ripe food from the distant farms placed onto nearby baskets at
the end of each column, and the lights inside the home were on like an enchanting promise of
comfort and warmth. Thankfully, they hadn’t been ambushed yet, but Brooklyn and Damian
shared a cautionary look regardless before slowly making their way up the porch of the
home.

The wood creaked under them, but despite the occasional signs of wear and tear, the white
home was in relatively good condition. It brandished signs of a recent paint job, new fencing,
even clean windows whose beautifully trimmed lace curtains obscured everything within. It
all looked well lived in, enjoyed and cherished as a normal home might…perhaps it was too
lovely, a way to lure unsuspecting prey.

"Are you sure this is the right place? Maybe you memorized it wrong" Damian whispered,
clutching his gun a little tighter.

Of course she'd remember it right, she wasn’t foolish enough to forget a basic cluster of
instructions so easily. Brook shot him a silent look that meant as much.

She supposed there was no harm in knocking on the front door at least. If someone
troublesome was inside, Brooklyn was at an advantage. Perhaps they were being overly
paranoid, but before she dared to do so, the two went around the home to catalog the doors
and windows with care, even the ones from the shed out back. Only until they had a mental
map of the place did Brooklyn inch back towards the front door, with Damian leaning on the
wall beside it in case he needed to attack an unsuspecting enemy.

Putting all her trust in Uncle Clint, she rang that bell, and Brooklyn only had to wait in
silence for a few seconds before the door opened. As soon as it did, Brook hid her gun behind
her back, but got into a subtle fighting stance until she was struck from the light within, then
came face to face with the woman now standing before her.
She looked innocent enough, holding onto some poorly drawn pictures and an apron in the
other hand. The woman was almost the same height as Brook, maybe even a little taller, but
her delicate gaze was kind, even with a stranger at her door.

"Hello, dear. How can I help?" the woman asked, just as the shrieks of children came from
inside as Brooklyn caught peeks of the homey space within behind the woman.

Could this really be the right place?

"Um, sorry to disturb you ma’am," Brook said, trying to hide her unease, "But I...do you
happen to know a man named Clint?"

The woman's eyes went wide, the door shutting ever so slightly at the words.

"Why are you looking for someone all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?"

Brooklyn caught the hesitation and the worry in the woman's voice, the subtle dodging of her
question. That likely meant this was the right place and it had something to do with Clint.
Maybe a hidden basement or the shed out back worked as the safe house and this woman was
a SHIELD agent guarding it.

"Actually, Clint Barton told me I should come here in case I needed a place to lay low,"
Brook admitted, watching as the woman's eyes lost their faint hostility as she tilted her head
to try and get a good look at the teen.

Deciding to comply, Brook removed her hood and said proudly, "My name is Brooklyn.
Brooklyn Stark"

The woman went wide eyed as she scanned Brook up and down before quietly setting the
stuff down somewhere inside and then ushering her in with a smile.

"You're Tony's daughter," the woman said frantically, "Did something happen to your dad or
anyone else during the mission? There’s been so much radio silence, did something go
wrong?"

Brooklyn remained by the door, unsure how to bring up Damian until the boy came to stand
beside her, weapon nowhere in sight. The woman suddenly stopped her fussing, eyeing
Damian with that same scrutiny from before.

Deciding she had to fix this for all their sakes, Brooklyn shot the woman a reassuring smile.

"I'm not sure about the mission’s progress, that's not why I’m here. I'm afraid it is my
classmate and I that are in trouble. There are people trying to kill us and I couldn't think of
another place to go but the directions Agent Clint had me memorize"

The woman smiled softly, this time ushering them both to come in and sit by the fire since it
was getting cold out. Brooklyn had been far too nervous to notice the bite of the weather to
be honest, yet she followed the woman's orders nonetheless.
Once the door was locked and the lady came back with a tray of tea for both teens, the
woman sat down on a blue wingback chair that looked as comfortable as the couch she and
Damian were on. The Stark had already scanned the area, deeming it safe, but she was more
curious by the folded toddler clothes and the toys that didn’t seem like expertly placed props.

"My name is Laura," the woman said, passing each teen a delicate cup of tea, "I'm Clint's
wife"

Brook almost spilled her tea at the words, but managed to set the cup down gracefully and
forcefully swallow what she'd drank before eyeing the woman again. She checked for
obvious signs of deceit but surprisingly found none. The woman wasn't lying.

The Stark knew Barton had a family. Much like Scott, he often seemed saddened by not being
able to see his loved ones thanks to his Sokovia Accords induced house arrest. It's just...she'd
imagined that family would consist of his parents, maybe even some siblings. But the famed
Hawkeye had a wife, and she was sitting right across from her. The sweet and delicate
brown-haired woman living in some hidden farmhouse was his wife and she’d never heard of
it. Brooklyn was about to consider this might be a trap of some sort until she considered the
facts.

"He never mentioned it to me." Brook said gently, "Then again we just met over a month
ago"

Laura pointed at the small TV, an old thing that still used a cable antenna above it.

"Well, now that I see you under the light I’m sure you're Brooklyn Stark. Even out here you
were all over the news, and Clint did talk about you from time to time in his letters. He told
me you were a good kid that’s working hard to be better," she said, quickly sparing a glance
Damian’s way, "But what happened to you and..."

Damian set down his own cup, looking so at odds with the colors and lively life in the house,
but still managing to put those trained manners into place as he introduced himself with little
enthusiasm. If Laura knew about the famous Stark-Wayne rivalry, she didn’t let it show. But
then the woman did start asking the right questions about why they were being hunted down
in the first place.

Like with Marshall, Brooklyn wasn't sure what to say, her first Red Room instinct was
always to lie, just in case the person couldn't be trusted. But with Laura, well...Brook was
invading her home as nothing but a stranger, what good would lying do when the Avengers
would eventually come for her anyways?

So against her usual judgment, Brooklyn explained that a villain was trying to kill them
for...being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though they were able to protect themselves
quite decently, the villains pursuing them had very deadly weapons that could end up hurting
a lot of people if a fight broke out, so they fled.

Like Aunt May, the woman was kind and understanding. She didn't sit there interrogating the
pair after that even though she had every right to do so, instead choosing to offer food since
they'd arrived just in time for dinner. Just like that, it was as if they’d been allowed access to
the unusual safe house.

When the woman excused herself to go get some people they apparently needed to meet,
Brooklyn turned to Damian, who was frowning down at the sweetness of his tea.

"I think we'll be fine here," she whispered.

Her nemesis eyed the enchanting home with a scrutinizing eye, but even he came up short
with a complaint for once. That's when the sound of rapid steps came rushing down the stairs,
too quick to belong to an ambush. Realizing what they meant, Brooklyn grabbed hers and
Damian's hidden guns and stuffed them into her backpack just as Laura came back with two
young teens that were probably still in middle school, maybe late elementary, plus a toddler
hidden behind her legs.

When the kids caught sight of the strangers, they looked to their mother. Well, at least the two
boys did. The teenage girl quickly sprinted toward the couch, squealing like Tanya when she
saw MJ or when they served fresh strawberries at the cafeteria.

Surprisingly, the girl did not stop to gawk at Damian's wasted good looks, but instead stood
before Brook with a wide smile that displayed colorful braces.

"You're THE Brooklyn Stark! In our living room!" she said, and the comment made the Stark
pale until she remembered her inconvenient worldwide fame. She still couldn't work out why
that was a big deal.

"Yeah," Brook answered awkwardly, "You must be Clint's daughter?"

Laura made her way over, placing a calming hand on her daughter’s shoulder while the other
boy carried the toddler and stood beside his mother.

"Like I said earlier, you've been on TV a lot," Laura said with a laugh, "These are my kids.
You've already met Lila" then a gesture to the teenage boy, "That's Cooper and the little one
is Nathaniel"

Brooklyn sent a pathetic little wave at the newcomers, observing they were no longer
cautious about the strangers. It was like they were beaming at the unexpected company
despite lacking any information as to why they were there. She supposed kids with normal
childhoods wouldn’t be as cautious as an ex-assassin would be.

"Kids," Laura said, gesturing to the couch, "These are our guests, Brooklyn Stark and
Damian Wayne. They’re going to be staying with us for a while, ok?"

NOW the girl's attention was on her nemesis, looking at him with something akin to puzzled
shock.

"THE Damian Wayne!?" Lila shouted, "Why is he here?"

Brooklyn had to stifle a laugh at Damian's face, one that looked mortified at being
recognized, if not a little defensive. Brook left Laura to censor their arrival as she wished
with a look, after which the woman ended up only telling her kids that their dad wanted to
have the two teens over for a much needed break from the city.

That was enough for them, at least for now.

Once the kids began setting up the table, Brooklyn was hauled over by Lila to pick out a
drink of her choice while Cooper began asking Damian if he wanted to play a video game
later. Brook was too far away to hear how that conversation went, but seeing as the kid
wasn’t crying out of the room, she guessed Damian was successfully practicing endless
patience for the sake of their guaranteed safety.

That quickly the kids had become hospitable, just like their father had been to Brook when
she first got to the Compound.

In no time, Brooklyn and Damian were awkwardly seated at the table side by side, the Barton
family seated around them. After a quick prayer that required them to hold hands, which had
forced Brook to hold the demon's hand for twelve seconds, they dug into the food.

Unlike the meals from Queens she was used to, this was mostly freshly farmed food. Corn,
mashed potatoes, steamed green beans and a small steak with some kind of gravy sauce atop
it that smelled of spring and the outdoors. Brooklyn didn’t complain as she dug into the
delicious food that could rival some of the best meals she’d ever had.

Still, while the family was busy discussing their day, Brook decided to spare Damian's hidden
unease by subtly taking his steak into her plate with a wink. The two locked eyes for a few
heartbeats, and in his emerald orbs, Brook beheld no trace of that usual hate for once which
she decided to interpret as his way to thank her. She hadn’t cared to help him…it would’ve
just been rude for him to continue moving his food around in front of their hostess is all.

Afterwards once they both went back to their own dishes, Brook noted Damian ate the rest of
his food just fine. No one had even noticed the subtle exchange around the table.

"I can speak for everyone here—mostly Lila it seems— when I say that it is a pleasure
having you two here. I hope you guys make yourselves at home, know there is nothing to
worry about now while you’re here" Laura said, which surprisingly did ease some of Brook’s
nerves.

The promise of safety after chaos was a gift, a luxury. All things considered, this place did
seem safe, it was a home in which this family clearly blossomed and thrived. Their family
dynamic was peaceful too, enough for Brooklyn to mentally admit to herself Clint was a
lucky man to have them all in his life. Though it felt odd not being back in her apartment, to
be seated beside the Wayne at the dinner table, it was also a soothing blanket of peace after
the amount of running they'd done since that morning.

So when Lila frantically struck conversation with Brook, the ex-assassin went along with it.
The young Barton was curious about a lot of things, mostly wondering what the life of a
celebrity such as herself was.
"It's not too different from normalcy as of right now," Brooklyn confessed, "I got to school,
hang out with friends, and do homework for the most part. Nothing special"

Damian kicked her leg under the table as if to say, liar.

Cooper inquired from across the table, "Mom always says that we should treat Tony Stark as
family, so you are too. But why did you bring your friend with you? Aren't the Waynes from
that scary city called Gotham?"

Brooklyn eyed Damian, debating correcting the term 'friend' until she realized it might get rid
of some semblance of peace at the table if Brook mentioned he was her nemesis. She had to
swallow the distaste of the word for the sake of Cooper’s blissful ignorance, which wasn’t as
difficult as she’d imagined it to be.

"Well...he is working on a very important school project with me," Brook said, then dared to
flash an innocent smile as she added, "So when I decided to come get away from the city for
a while, he tagged along so we could work on our school work. Right, Dami?"

Brook had to fight the smirk threatening to burst across her face as she saw his jaw tighten,
but keeping in mind their company, the Wayne could do nothing but nod along. Luckily for
him, the rest of the meal held no further need to dodge dangerous questions. The kids were
mostly curious about what New York was like, if Brook had seen the Avengers in action, but
also many questions about how their dad was doing.

By the time the sun fully set, Brooklyn had recounted tales of the recent sport games at the
Compound, managing to even send Laura into fits of laughter when mentioning silly tales of
her weekends with the Avengers. Because Brook did feel guilt intruding on their home, the
Stark offered to do the dishes once the meal was over, to which Damian also agreed to help
with much to the constant reassurances from Laura that they didn’t need to do so.

Eventually the woman caved, and while the kids began setting up some video games to pass
the time before bedtime, the two ex-assassins washed the dishes side by side with sneaking
glares and the occasional sprinkling of water on the other. She washed, he dried, all the while
listening to the happy sounds of children at play behind them.

Much like the time Damian stayed at her house, this feeling of doing normal everyday things
with the Wayne felt odd to say the least. They were currently in a cozy little farm house,
washing dishes as if they didn't have guns in their backpacks and a family animosity between
them.

Yet, much to her surprise, things were about to get a whole lot weirder.

When Laura came back from upstairs after the second round of some fighting game Cooper
was destroying a determined Damian at, the woman ushered her kids to do their nightly
routine despite the whines to stay up a little longer. At their mother’s silent yet stern look,
Lila let go of Brook's freshly braided hair, and little Nathaniel (who she found out was named
after their prized Auntie Nat) got off her lap, chasing after Cooper who was calling dibs on
something. That's when Laura approached the seated pair on the couch with two folded sets
of clothes.
"I hope Clint's clothes aren't too big for you, Damian. I picked some of mine for you to sleep
in Brook, but if they don't fit, we can scavenge in Lila's closet for something more
comfortable"

Both teens nodded in thanks. After thinking she'd have to sleep in a dusty bunker somewhere,
this was definitely heavenly in comparison. Having proper sleeping clothes and heated walls
to fight off the freezing air outside was certainly the most luck they’d stumbled upon today.

But Laura wasn't done yet.

"I hope you two don't mind sharing the guest bedroom," the woman said over her shoulder,
stopping at the base of the nearby stairs, "We used to have two rooms for when my folks
visit, but since Nathaniel grew up I turned one into his room"

Brook felt like dropping her clothes and offering to sleep on the couch, or even the lone and
freezing Jeep outside instead. But then Laura explained she’d already set up the room,
leaving the stunned teens no choice but to be polite and accept whatever she provided. That's
how a silently seething Brook was guided upstairs with a racing heartbeat and a hidden frown
across her face, past a hallway full of labeled growth marks, family photos, and even some
sloppy crayon art on the walls.

The guest bedroom was at the end of the hall, and Laura felt the need to brag about them
having their own bathroom in the room…which Brook supposed was a small blessing, even
if she had to share it with a Wayne. The inside of said bedroom was much smaller than Brook
had hoped, then again, even if the room was the size of the school gym, it would still feel
small if she had to share it with Damian.

The bed in the corner of the room was large enough for two, but just barely. That's where her
gaze lingered as Laura made her way out to give them some privacy to change, saying they
could ask her for anything they needed since she’d be down the hall. Only she lingered at the
door for a second too long, and Brook could’ve sworn she heard a hint of amusement in the
woman’s tone as she bid them goodnight with a mortifying warning.

"You two seem like very responsible teens, but I feel the need to remind you two to...behave.
You're only teens so I get that you might be excited about the privacy, but the last thing this
fixer upper needs is Iron Man blasting through the roof if he thinks something is going on
between you two" Laura said, almost making Brook and Damian throw up on the spot as they
met gazes, realizing what the woman was insinuating.

As if she'd ever do something like that…with him of all people.

Brooklyn debated asking the woman to make an extra room appear out of nowhere, but she'd
already gone off to scold her noisy children as they blasted music and began running from
their rooms to the bathroom like maniacs.

So, there she was, Brooklyn Stark with an equally stunned Damian Wayne by her side. Out of
the two of them, it was him that snapped out of his shock first, shutting the door to spare their
eardrums from the screaming out in the hall, then setting his backpack by the wooden dresser
with his eyes locked on the bed.
"Fascinating. I'll sleep on the floor," he said over his shoulder, as if she hadn't already thought
of that.

"Where exactly on the floor? There’s barely enough space to move around, much less to sleep
in. We’re both mature beyond our years, so don't be a baby and just share the stupid bed"
Brook said, trying to be the responsible one even though she was already dreading actually
getting under those covers, especially after what happened at the mall.

Damian paused at the threshold of the bathroom just as Brook went over to the bed clad in
much too thin baby blue covers for this weather, and what looked like hand stitched pillows
with little animals on them.

"You really think I trust you enough to sleep in the same room with you? Much less the same
bed? You could kill me in my sleep and I wouldn’t even be able to shoot you in the head
unless I want to risk waking up the kids down the hall"

Brook let out a bitter laugh, "You really think I would do that? Here of all places?"

Damian's answer had been nothing but a disbelieving huff, followed by the slamming of the
bathroom door and the sound of the shower turning to life. All Brook could do was lay on
that bed, shouting back a string of "good nights" everytime one of the kids stood on the other
end of the closed door with their own well wishes.

But this wouldn't be a good night, because she was sleeping with a Wayne.

Once this was all over, Brooklyn swore she'd kill the Joker himself for putting her in this
position. Oh, how she would savor beating him with a crowbar, especially because it had
been his people that had forced her to kiss Damian earlier to avoid detection. That clown was
causing too many damn inconveniences.

By the time Damian finally came out of the shower, steam from his bath filling into the room,
Brook had busied herself with the book Marshall had given her. It was confusing enough to
stray her mind from her incoming doom…who was currently dressed in clothes that were a
little too big for him.

His black hair was dripping with some remaining droplets of water, looking pissed off like a
drowned cat. Seeing Damian in oversized SHIELD trainee sweatpants much like the ones she
had back in her apartment, plus a t-shirt that said 'Best Dad Ever'...there were no words to
describe the absolute mischief she felt at his misery.

When her gaze lingered for a little too long, he merely scoffed, telling her to hurry so they
could go to sleep and get the night over with.

Much like with grumpy out in the bedroom, the hot shower didn’t help in the least with her
foul mood. It was a good idea Brooklyn had held back her laughter at Damian's dilemma,
because she was now facing one of her own. Laura had been such a kind host, enough that
Brooklyn didn't dare bother the woman with another shirt that wasn't the black tank top in her
hands. A tank top that unfortunately showed most of the scars scattered her back.
No matter how much Brooklyn stared at it in the mirror to try and rearrange it, her injuries
were still visible, even with her long hair cascading down.

Fantastic.

Frowning at her reflection, Brooklyn dejectedly put on the plain green sleeping pants and
ridiculous polka dot socks before finally daring to open the door. It would be no big deal, she
decided with feigned confidence. Damian already knew the scars were there, it meant nothing
that he might see them, or at least she tried to fool herself as much when she walked out into
the bedroom.

Damian deigned to look up from his scattered school work on the bed, and Brook did her best
to seem casual, as if nothing was wrong while she placed the day's clothes inside her
backpack. All the while, she tried to keep her front facing the demon, but by the time she had
to turn off the main light switch, well...there was no helping it then.

It's not as if she was ashamed of the scars in any way, but they could be interpreted as a
weakness around people of their background. Or worse, they could induce pity. Brook knew
they didn’t exactly look pretty with the passing of time, but it was the memories of each
strike and wound that bothered her the most. She knew which had been made by Ivan,
instructors, or fellow sestras during both trials and assassination attempts. There were some
from her birth mother as well, the deepest whip scar was actually from the day Brook failed
to kill four innocent children kidnapped from Moscow. None of those instances were
memories she wanted anyone to know about, much less him.

When she dared to look back at Damian, face aglow from the bedside light at his side, she
knew he'd noticed them. But there was no pity in his eyes like Uncle Banner had displayed,
there was only...silent understanding.

When she settled on her side of the bed, Brooklyn made sure to scoot as far into her side as
possible, enough that one shift during the night would likely send her toppling down to the
floor, or maybe through the round window on the wall if she had enough momentum.
Thankfully, the Wayne eventually put away his belongings, and when all the lights went out,
both teens were laying on their backs as far away from one another as possible. Both staring
up at the blank ceiling with silent horror.

There were no familiar sounds from the city to lure her to sleep, only the faint noise of a
faraway windmill churning somewhere outside, and Clint's family moving around the
squeaky floors out in the hall. If Brook focused hard enough, she could hear Damian's steady
breathing, even feel the rise and fall of his chest shifting their shared covers.

Trying to sleep was obviously a futile effort, even trying to close her eyes was difficult
despite the fact that Brooklyn was finally in a place where she was theoretically safe.

Though Damian had been the one to joke about being killed in his sleep by her, it was odd to
not feel a single ounce of weariness from the Wayne. She'd never slept in the same room as
someone else since the Red Room. Brooklyn didn't even know if she tossed around in bed, or
if she snored. Those worries were very superficial, almost irrelevant in a world where
Gotham's most notorious villain was after her…yet they kept her up. At some point during
her over analyzing of literally everything in her life, ranging from the slightly unjust way she
was treating Peter to the mission her family was in, the Stark FINALLY managed to exhaust
herself into a deep slumber.

But it was far from peaceful.

This had to be some abandoned warehouse, but the air was familiar. Deep pine, the clean
cold of snow, and the familiar metal-like smell of blood. She was still dressed in the night
clothes Laura had given her, but this couldn't be the farmhouse. Oddly enough, one of the
first things she noticed was Damian's absence by her side, even going as far as to shout his
name a few times.

If this was his idea of a joke, it had gone too far, she thought.

But this place was...how could the Wayne have brought her all the way to Russia in her
sleep?

As Brooklyn finally pinpointed where she was, the surroundings of the empty warehouse
began to slowly expand out until the walls rose up into the sky, leaving her in a white
landscape with falling snowflakes all around her. The descending ice wasn’t cold to the touch,
it never had been with all her weather tolerance training. There was only one way she could
be back in Russia, and that caused her to shout Damian's name off the top of her lungs, this
time panicked and near breathless as she tried to flee past the thickening blanket of falling
snow.

Brook screamed for her family as well, even for Peter, knowing that despite letting her
jealousy get the best of her, he would come to her aid because that's just the kind of person he
was. Yet no one answered, not as a tall figure stepped out of the tree line that always seemed
to shrink further back the more she ran. She knew those heartless silver eyes, the graying
hair, even the sight of one of those expensive Russian-made suits was enough to send Brook
to the floor.

Ivan Bezukhov had come for her at last.

Brooklyn had no weapons on her, not even her Stark watch. Her body was suddenly shaking
too hard as if it had finally given in to the weather, but it was those cruel silver eyes that
made her panic escalate. If only she had something to use as a weapon, even if it was just to
kill herself with rather than go back with him.

Now standing a few feet away, the man calmly brushed snow from his red coat and matching
scarf, looking down at her as if he'd already won this unspoken game of cat and mouse.

In a heavy English accent, the man said "10452. We reunite at last, my little spider"

Little spider. Little spider.

Brooklyn had never been one for begging, it was a sign of weakness, but in that moment she
begged and begged in her mother tongue, "Pozhaluysta, ne zabiray menya obratno!"
Please, don't take me back.

Her prayers went unanswered as Ivan walked around her fallen form like a lion ready to
attack, but instead of dragging her through the snow, he merely ran a hand across her arched
back, where the array of scars were out in the open thanks to her flimsy tank top.

"I already have," Ivan said in a whisper, sending burning tears down her eyes when she
heard screaming from up above beyond the mist and clouds. It was her name. Not 10452, but
the one she’d given herself. Her true name.

Brooklyn! Brooklyn!

The voice was familiar, a comfort against Ivan's lingering hands. When she pushed past the
sobs and decided to focus on the voice, she recognized it as...was that him? She knew that
voice too well. It was Damian. When she screamed for him, Ivan suddenly vanished in a puff
of smoke like the byproduct of the cigars he loved, the remaining metal walls of the
warehouse hurling back down to the ground from the sky.

Brooklyn wasn’t sure if one would land on her, and she didn’t get to see if they would before
she shot up from amidst the comforts of a bed, throat painfully sore, cheeks wet with tears. At
first she focused on regaining her breathing, now familiar with how to deal with a nightmare
after so many over the years. Just breathing in and out. But tonight was different, because the
hands hesitantly resting on her shoulders were enough for Brooklyn to recall she wasn't
alone, nor was she in the familiar and lonely confines of her apartment. The room was dark,
save for the faint moonlight from the window beside her, but she could still see Damian wide
awake and alert, leaning over her with his hands still grounding her to the real world.

Pushing stray hair away from her face, Brooklyn tried to fight the embarrassment of waking
up her nemesis in the middle of the night. She had no idea what to say, especially as Ivan's
voice still lingered in the back of her head, almost like a haunting promise of an impending
bad end.

"You were screaming my name," Damian said simply, for once not sounding annoyed or
infinitely bothered as anyone being woken up at night should be.

His tousled black hair rested against his forehead, green eyes brighter than the shade of the
dying trees in her dream. He was not attacking her, yelling, or laughing. Instead, Damian
Wayne kneeled before her, waiting for an explanation as to why she'd been screaming HIS
name.

"Yeah, I guess I was," she replied breathlessly, "It looks like I'm even fed up with you in my
dreams"

Damian didn’t buy it of course, he was far too intelligent for that.

"Whatever, keep your nightmares to yourself" he replied amidst the darkness, quickly
removing his steading hands from her shoulders even when Brook was still involuntarily
shaking, "Though, it should be obvious by now that I wouldn’t harm you in your sleep"
He thought...Damian thought the nightmare was about him!? Seriously?

Hands fisting on her loose wavy locks, Brooklyn let out a small laugh that was a little more
sarcastic than her usual chuckles of indifference.

"I'm not afraid of you, demon" Brook said, looking up at him, "I just...I dreamt of someone
else"

Damian leaned back against the headboard when Brook assumed he'd just roll back to his
side of the bed and tell her to stay quiet. His eyes briefly lingered on the visible bits of her
scarred back as he whispered, likely for the sake of the sleeping Bartons, "You begged
someone not to take you back in Russian. So it was the Red Room you dreamt of tonight?"

Her jaw dropped out of its own volition.

On the news, the Batman was often portrayed as one of the best detectives of their time, a
gene her nemesis seemed to have inherited. Despite her hatred for the guy, Brooklyn joined
him seated against the headboard, hands against her hot forehead as she nodded.

A beat of silence passed before Damian scoffed, "You truly are an idiot. You really think I
would let the Red Room come in here and take you when we still have a project to finish?
My grade is far too important for Ivan Bezukhov to ruin it with a simple kidnapping, I
wouldn’t let him get as far as the front door because of it"

Brooklyn focused on the intensity of his eyes, the faint freckles across his tanned skin,
anything but the honesty in those words. Aside from the little things her brain had cataloged
on the Wayne beside her, there was one thing that was making her heartbeat double its usual
rhythm. As much as Brooklyn hated to admit it, Damian Wayne was not heartless, that was
painfully obvious by now.

Though he had feelings and emotions as all others did, he always portrayed them all through
anger. If Brooklyn was right on her assumption, what the Wayne had meant to say was that he
wouldn't let her be taken by the Red Room…maybe even beyond the confines of their school
project.

But that couldn’t be true, right? That wasn’t a promise that could be struck between them.

"I think a missing partner would exempt you from a penalty on your grade," she commented,
"If anything I would think you'd hand me over just to get me out of your hair at last. I’d be
killed, and you’d never have to deal with the likes of me again"

Now it was Damian's turn to look bested. Hands fisted on the edge of the covers across his
lap, he looked past her towards the window where the moon shone above the hidden farm,
hesitating on whatever he wanted to say before turning to face her at last with a different
meaning in his eyes. One she couldn’t understand.

"Perhaps that’s why my father insists on not killing the Joker, his greatest nemesis. Life
would be easier without him, certainly less bothersome, but perhaps Bruce doesn't know what
a life without that clown would be like. No one else is worthy of competing against me, as
close to being as skilled as I am. Maybe that's why I'd bother keeping you around," Damian
said, yet once he realized what he’d said, that usual sneer of his was back.

Brooklyn considered his words with great care. It wasn't exactly a compliment to be kept
around merely for competition, but for Damian to notice whether she lived or died, that
meant something important.

The Stark didn't bother to admit that she too would’ve kept him around if only to continue
hating and taunting him. If someone came and tried to take or kill him…well, she supposed
that had already happened and she’d already reacted in favor of saving him prior to tonight’s
realization. Somehow, Brooklyn had already decided he was worth the effort.

As far as nemesis went, Brook had gotten lucky getting one that at least had a semblance of
equality to her past. He had scars too, like the one she'd bandaged a few days ago that she
could see through his shirt. Only the stitch work remained now, and Brooklyn could tell it
was still her own work, not Pennyworth's.

"That's a fair assumption I guess," Brooklyn replied tiredly, settling back under the covers but
now facing the teen beside her, "too bad FRIDAY isn't here to make me some coffee. Only
that machine knows how to quell my nerves properly nowadays"

Damian hesitantly settled down as well, leaving their faces mere inches from one another as
he too turned to face her.

"Don't your parents coddle you when this happens? I bet they sing you lullabies, tell you
stories of heroics and the good things of the world. Maybe even bring you candy despite the
late hour" he mocked.

Of course her parents never did such a thing, they were still blissfully unaware of her
nightmares after all. If she had anything to say about it, that's how it would remain even if a
part of her was curious about that kind of comfort, wondering if it truly helped. But that
would require a kind of trust and mutual understanding she couldn’t have with them, not
when they’d feel guilty about it all.

Brook merely rolled her eyes and replied swiftly, "Is that what your emotionless dad does? I
bet it's your step-mom that comes when you scream at night to quell your unease. That day I
saw her at the gala, she seemed like the motherly type to do that sort of thing"

Damian quickly brandished a face of pure disgust she caught the outlines of in the darkness,
"Don't mention that harlot to me. She is no mother of mine, nothing but an ex-criminal who
could only be truly loved by the cats she keeps around"

Images of the woman from the gala flashed in Brook's head. Selina Wayne had seemed like a
very confident woman, perhaps not entirely defenseless as well. The occasional coverage of
the Batman she’d studied showed he'd been working with the criminal Catwoman in recent
years, something that hadn’t seemed relevant until now.

His father had married the Cat Woman. Could Damian's family get any weirder?
Brooklyn didn't know why she felt the need to make an argument. Perhaps out of familiarity
with the woman’s situation, she found herself whispering, "In case you didn't notice, you and
I are also ex-criminals that are trying to be better people. How is your step-mom different? In
fact, I’m sure we’ve killed more people than your Robin Hood-mother did considering she
was mostly a thief"

Her nemesis glared, but couldn’t come up with any rebuttal.

It may be foolish to take that as a chance to go further, maybe she just longed for the
familiarity of a fight after her nightmare, but Brook added more confidently this time, "If it's
just because she's not your real mom, then you're being ridiculous. Pepper has been the best
mom in the world to me, I'm glad I gave her the chance to get close to me no matter how out
of the ordinary that was for me. Perhaps you should get off your high horse and do the same"

A dry laugh. "Get off my high horse you say? What about you and the Spider? I don't see you
being an adult about it and talking to him after his revelation. If memory serves, you’ve been
ignoring him at school for quite some time" Damian sneered, but not quite raising his voice
enough that this would become another of their infamous world-rattling fights.

Son of a...he always knew what to say to push her buttons. Besides, it's not as if Brooklyn
wasn’t aware she might’ve gone too far with her response to his secret being revealed. The
guilt of it tasted like poison, it had for a while now.

"Fine, next time I see Peter I'll apologize for being a jealous bitch and you’ll attempt to make
things right with your step-mom. Think you're up to the challenge, Dami?"

Propping his head up with an arm, Damian looked down at her with undiluted disgust. But
that competitive glint in his eyes was there, slowly rising to the surface as it did every time
they compared test scores at school. It was strangely thrilling to behold it again, no matter
how ridiculous that sounded.

"What's it to you how I treat that harlot?" he whispered.

Brooklyn tried not to let her surprise show, meeting his gaze straight on. But…what was it to
her? Why would Brook try and help an enemy family? That's what she was doing, because
whether Damian realized it or not, she was certain that if he got closer to his step-mother his
life would certainly see improvement just as hers had with Pepper.

Maybe she was doing it to repay a debt, for pulling her out of that nightmare earlier.

"Simple," she replied, "You may not realize what I have learned recently, but family is power.
Fighting with that woman will make you weaker, wouldn't it be best to at least try and get
past the 'you married my father so I hate you' tantrum?"

His head hit the pillow again, face now closer to her own as his brows furrowed in
concentration like he was actually considering her proposal. She too was considering it, more
so the reasons for her involvement rather than the results.
Maybe it wasn’t entirely about debts owed. Brook had been very lucky to have a true mom
that perhaps she couldn't help but want to share that feeling even with her greatest enemy. It
would have no benefit for her to aid in such a cause, but then maybe another ex-criminal like
her can bypass the stereotypical hardships that Brook herself had harbored so much jealousy
for where Spidy and her dad were concerned.

"Just, try doing something with her without insulting the woman to death. I bet she's at least
trying to get close to you, but in typical Damian fashion, you push her away. Before you try
and argue, don't think I didn't hear you and your dad yelling about her at school after our
summons to the principal’s office" she added, if only to drive her point home.

Hand resting over his eyes, the boy groaned in annoyance, but asked, "What the hell am I
supposed to do with that woman? She can't replace my mom"

Brooklyn had gladly replaced the woman who had tortured her since birth with Pepper, but
maybe not all assassin mothers were as cruel. Maybe Damian's had been better? Maybe she’d
been as much a prisoner to the assassin's life as they too had been, a nameless woman just
following orders.

"I don't think you have to replace her," Brooklyn mused, "Who's to say you can't have two
moms? We live in a world where our families consist of enhanced humans, living A.I.,
heroes, and vigilantes. Nothing is set in stone, even families"

Damian finally turned to look her way again, eyes visibly tired as he asked, "Then what do I
do? Take her to the police station so we can bond over which cell we should both be in?"

That was probably not meant to be a joke, but it still made Brook chuckle. The sound
surprised her enough that she had to quickly bring a hand to cover her mouth.

"Yeah, that should charm her enough that she'll be dying to call you her favorite son," Brook
whispered back, a smile remaining on her face as she considered what had helped her
younger self get close to the Avengers.

Then she recalled a recent image of Damian in Marshall's office, petting the fluffy creature
with the closest thing to happiness she'd seen on him. An odd sight she’d only partially
ignored due to the fact that they were currently being hunted to death.

"You said she had a bunch of cats right? Why not take care of them with her, that way you at
least have something to keep your temper down since you love animals so much?"

Damian didn’t bother to admit what a brilliant idea that was, but his tone was mildly
accepting as he inquired, "And if one of us doesn't follow through with what we promised? If
we're gonna bet, there should be a punishment for your prideful self to suffer when you
inevitably fail"

As if she was the one who would fail...

"If you lose..." a wicked smile formed across her face, "You have to compliment Harry
during his next football game, no sarcasm or hidden jabs. Just genuine compliments that will
have him wondering if your having a stroke"

High stakes. Everything was always high stakes between the two of them.

Damian looked as if he might refuse, but then his angered expression turned passive...then as
wicked as her own had been. Something she wasn’t afraid of, but it wasn’t exactly
comforting considering he was arguably as smart as she was.

"But if you lose, Stark, you will have to cheer along with Bennet and her cabal during the
next game. I know how much you LOVE attention after all" he replied.

The thought of it all was awful. Cheerleading was definitely not her thing, but it wasn't the
worst punishment she could think of all things considered. It wasn’t a punch to the face, more
like a flick to the head.

"Oh, thank god! I thought you were gonna make me go on a date with Flash or something"

In the darkness of the room, Brooklyn got a good look at his equally disgusted face, nose
scrunched up in a way that was almost adorable had it been on someone else of course.

"Thompson is insufferable, even I wouldn't subject you to that much Axe spray for one night"
he replied, leaving the both of them fighting back small smiles for a few minutes.

Damian was an idiot most of the time, but his sense of humor wasn't completely lost behind
that poker face at least. Who knew someone as insufferable as him had the ability to joke
once in a while?

Taking the silent end of their deal as a sign to go back to sleep, Brooklyn settled more
comfortably under the covers. Only then did she realize that the shaking from her nightmare
hadn’t seized and was perhaps not due to fear, but rather the cold that always seemed to grasp
her after a bad dream. Almost as if her impenetrable Russian defenses decided to flee at the
whisper of a nightmare of her first dwelling.

In fact, it appeared she wasn’t the only one to notice.

Still facing one another, Brooklyn almost fell out of the bed when she saw Damian's face
grow closer to her own, his warm arms moving towards her form…then retreating back and
forth a few times with uncertainty before he finally sighed out, "I won't be able to sleep with
all that shaking of yours. I'll only share my body heat this once, and next time I'll leave you to
freeze to death. Don’t make this weird and get over here, I need proper rest"

Brooklyn didn't have time to argue that the shaking was also because of forces beyond the
cold temperatures, because he must’ve taken her sudden stillness and lack of refusal as a sign
for his strong arms to gently wrap around her waist, pulling Brooklyn's face against his warm
chest.

A thousand alarms were going off inside her head, enough that she expected her brain to
short circuit and smoke would begin coming out of her ears. Her face was suddenly flushed,
but Brooklyn couldn't argue that the warmth of his body against the cold night wasn’t
pleasant. Wasn’t this what she’d often wonder about? Her curiosity on these kinds of comfort
previously foreign to her were finally at play, and though it was her enemy doing so…it felt
like she was in good hands.

But this was Damian Wayne. Damian 'I don't like to be touched' Wayne as a matter of fact.
Sleep must be a very tempting thing for him to bypass his own discomforts, especially with
her on the receiving end of this closeness. Exhaustion was a greater foe than she was at the
moment, which should’ve been funny were it not so odd.

So, once again, Brooklyn relinquished herself to the odd comforting closeness and settled
against Damian's body, wrapping her hands around his neck to keep them from arranging
them awkwardly between them. It only managed to bring the two even closer. To her
surprise, Damian settled his own hands around her back until they were both inelegantly yet
comfortably tangled in each other's warm embrace.

Much like when they’d kissed, she could hear his steady breathing with mild blowing clarity,
the subtle shifting of his muscles, and the beating of his pulse against her ear. Once again she
cursed the Joker if only because someone had to be blamed for this abnormality.

The Wayne's hands didn’t flinch or retreat in disgust when they inevitably grazed the scarred
tissue of her back. In fact, like that day she carried him towards the Wayne Manor, he
hesitantly ran his warm fingers across them, so unlike the cruel and taunting way Ivan had in
her dream.

She'd die before admitting it felt...soothing. A kind of comfort she’d never been gifted and
thought she’d never be worthy of in her lifetime. Unless it wasn’t meant to be a comfort, it
couldn’t be considering Damian was her enemy.

"Why are you touching my scars? Is it not enough to judge them from a distance?" Brooklyn
whispered against his neck where her head was currently resting on his good shoulder.

The teen paused his roaming hands at the center of her back where that giant scar lay, the one
that may have cost Brook her life long ago. His sturdy hand hovering against it like that…it
almost felt like Damian was holding her heart in his hand, a vital part of her that he could
destroy her with if he chose to pursue the cruelty between their families now.

"It bothers you". A veiled question, she realized.

With a sigh, Brooklyn replied softly, "Not really. I just don't know why you find them
intriguing when most would chose to avert their eyes or pretend the horrid sight of them isn’t
there"

At her words, those calloused hands of his continued roaming the lines and dips on her back
slowly and cautiously, as if he wanted to prove her wrong. Like he disagreed. Brook was so
lost in the featherlight caresses that she found herself tracing a little healed wound near the
juncture of his neck without even realizing it, noting that it was as if someone had placed a
knife against his pulse point once and he’d managed to scrape by death.
Damian too had seen horrors, likely felt indescribable pain as she had in and out of their
assassin guilds. That scar and all others likely hidden by his clothes were a brutal reminder of
the fact. Despite his usual dislike for touching of any sort, Damian seemed to be either too
focused on her own wounds, or just gave up trying to avoid touch all together after having
her practically resting above half his body.

Just as Damian began tracing the last whip scar Brook's mother had given her, the one he’d
rested his hand on earlier, he whispered back with voice as tired as her own, "Scars tell
stories. I’ve found that those stories tell more about a person than words or actions, like their
own language. There are so many stories on your body, Brooklyn Stark. That is what
intrigues me"

Brooklyn could only let out a faint chuckle as she felt her exhausted eyelids closing on their
own.

"I guess we'll be able to laugh about this mess in the morning, my esteemed rival" she joked
sleepily, only barely being able to hear Damian's soft response of "I suppose so, my beloved
nemesis" before they both went to sleep after a long day.

Though it usually took a time for the effects of her bad dreams to subside, her body had
actually stopped it's shaking throughout the rest of the night. As she ventured into the land of
sleep, no nightmares dared to attack either, almost as if they were scared off by the Wayne
sleeping by her side.

The morning hadn't been too bad…aside from both teens falling onto opposite ends of the
bed when they beheld their closeness from last night. Sure, she’d woken up in a tangle of
limbs with the soft tanned skin of Damian’s collar bone against her lips, but aside from that
unspeakable horror, her reaction had been relatively mild.

There was still some odd tension between Damian and Brook as they hurried to get ready for
the day at a much later hour than either were used to waking up at, but she no longer felt like
hiding her scars from him as they moved around the room to get dressed. She’d woken up
with both his hands resting against them, palms flat against her skin as if he’d wanted to
guard them all before sleep overtook him.

Again, not something she wanted to remember.

Breakfast with Laura and the kids had been much different from her usual morning routine.
The teens helped Laura make some fluffy pancakes for everyone, and once they and the kids
were at the table with syrup on their forks and sleepy smiles on their faces, the conversation
flowed easily.

Like the prior night, little Nathaniel clung to Brook's side even while eating. Laura had tried
to pry her kid off her lap, but then the little guy began crying and screaming...so they just let
him be. Brooklyn occasionally took on the job of helping him with his eating by physically
feeding the happy little boy who rested his sleepy head against her chest, and kept a hand
fisted around a few locks of her hair.
It turned out that the kids were actually homeschooled by Laura. So while they fulfilled their
daily lessons after breakfast, Brook and Damian decided to do some of their own homework
as well. It's not like they could give Joker-related excuses at school when they returned. They
even managed to plan out most of their project, and even though they didn’t have their
laptops or phones to help, Laura had a surprising library of historical events right in the living
room for their use to aid in their cause.

Apparently, Uncle Clint was a bit of a history buff.

By noon, the kids were buzzing with excitement at their earned freedom, begging to go
outside to play with Damian and Brook. Though neither teen was exactly a veteran when it
came to childhood games, they followed along with their request to avoid Nathaniel’s skillful
cries of persuasion. Brooklyn wondered if her sestra had already begun training her
namesake in their ways, or if the boy was just a natural.

Brooklyn went off with Lila to a shooting range outside the house, a simple and humble set
up that didn’t quite fit the image of what Hawkeye’s training ground should be. The girl may
be young, but even Brook had to admit that she was already a great archer, as expected from
the daughter of the best marksman in the world. Brook's own shooting was decent, always
hitting the center but never quite at the same spot. She was more skilled with guns and
projectiles like knives and daggers than with arrows, the medieval tool had never been
something the Red Room thought vital to teach to wield.

Unfortunately, fetching the hidden weapons from the guest room just to show off her true
range of skills would be idiotic. She was supposed to be a rich man’s daughter who just so
happened to get lucky today despite her archery inexperience, at least that's the tale everyone
but Damian was probably thinking.

Speaking of the demon, not too far from them across the sunny landscape, Damian was
seated at a small garden table with Cooper and Nathaniel seated at his sides. Both were far
too focused watching him paint, inquiring counsel from the teen from time to time for their
own art pieces. He'd likely only agreed to join the kids because the family dog remained
dutifully by its masters, the one family member they had failed to meet yesterday.

Brooklyn was adamant about keeping as much distance with the creature as possible, though
she found it amusing that Damian didn’t seem to hold the same reservations. He’d earned the
dog’s affection after once glance, and now the creature leaned its head beside Damian’s seat,
lazily being petted by its new acquaintance.

The feeling of Damian’s hands was still present on her back like a phantom touch even when
her skin was now covered by a very loose red long-sleeve shirt that Laura mentioned
belonged to her before her most recent pregnancy. It fit surprisingly well under the worn
overalls, which also belonged to the kind woman. Too bad Brook's usual heels didn’t go with
the outfit, but being barefoot out in the grass was actually an enjoyable experience.

Though it was hard imagining Clint, the Hawkeye, wearing loose flannels and dad
jeans...well he apparently did. But boy did they look interesting on Damian Wayne, so much
so that she'd almost burst out laughing when he came out of their shared bathroom with a
frown on his face and a complaint about cheap fabric whispered between them.
Grabbing the camera from her backpack, a treasured gift from Scott Lang she often carried
around, Brooklyn had aimed the lens towards the nemesis sitting on the bed, the loud click of
the camera ringing across the room that morning. Of course Damian would have none of
that.

After he shot her a deadly glare in warning, he proceeded to chase her around the small room
for the Polaroid. She’d yelled between fits of laughter, "You just looked so miserable on that
bed, I thought I should savor the moment!"

The memory of the events of this morning made Brook miss the center mark of the target by
a centimeter, sending Lila into celebratory dance. She might’ve been upset at the loss were
she not competing with a child, but her own gaze was still far away, staring at the reason for
her misfortune. Even now, Damian still looked so unlike the son of a wealthy CEO,
something Jon Kent from Kansas was more likely to wear with pride (or so Damian had
mumbled on his way down the stairs to breakfast).

But at least he did end up seeming less and less miserable as the day went by.

While the kids went back for their afternoon school lessons, Brook and Damian offered to
help Laura around the farm as payment for her kindness. More like Brooklyn had asked and
Damian simply tagged along. The woman was hesitant as all good hostesses were, but
eventually she did admit to having a few jobs she had trouble doing without Clint around.

Damian gladly went over to feed the chickens and cows much to his animal-loving delight,
while Brooklyn set about working some farming ground. Only her constant training kept her
from getting tired of moving the dirt around after an hour.

But she surprisingly enjoyed it...the satisfaction of knowing her labor would grow food for
the family was oddly rewarding.

The sun was shining brightly up above, the sky was clear, and there were no villains or
annoying car honks in the distance. This was a peaceful life, one Brooklyn was now starting
to understand Clint for keeping a secret. The birds flew above in majestic flocks rather than
planes, even the winds seemed to carry a sweet scent that Brooklyn found enthralling.

By the time Laura had shyly asked if Brook knew anything about fixing tractors, the teen
relied on her obsessive research on how cars worked for her failed driving lesson to get the
poor machine working again. The woman had remained by Brook’s side throughout the
process, mentioning her kids were often careless with the old machine, but that Clint loved it
too much to ever replace it. In fact, Laura mentioned Tony had fixed it once, and that she
found it endearing seeing his daughter at work on the old thing as well. Luckily for her,
Brooklyn was able to deliver good results despite her little knowledge on the subject. The gas
line had been leaking.

After another wonderful meal at lunch time, in which Brooklyn gathered Damian's meats into
her plate undetected once again, the two were sent out to cut some firewood now that they
were rested and eager to help further rather than be burdens upon the household. So that's
how Brooklyn found herself on a Saturday morning cutting wood with a Wayne by her side,
swinging an ax above his head before the log of wood broke in half with ease. Despite their
idiotic acts of kindness last night, their competitive spirit had not dimmed one bit.

Currently, Damian was in the lead by four logs on his pile...that bastard.

Though he hadn’t voiced it, she’d wager that Damian was also enjoying the country life as
much as she was, because he’d been quiet for the most part while they were outside. He was
so relaxed in fact, that unlike his usual grumpy self, he’d agreed to the Bartons’ request of a
game called two truths and a lie during lunch. Little Lila may seem like an angel, but she too
had the lying skills of a Red Room agent.

As Brooklyn absorbed the shock of her ax swing, the teen pulled the auburn hairs sticking to
her forehead back as she eyed Damian's determined silence with a hint of curiosity.

"I have a feeling you would very much enjoy this kind of life, being around animals and all,"
Brook said absentmindedly, propping another log in place.

The Wayne wiped his forehead with a red handkerchief, yet looked as eased and content
about the hard work as she was. As someone she’d once envisioned as a stuck up teen that
would look down on manual labor, this was quite the puzzling sight.

"I've seen your fair share of smiles today as well. Who would've thought a Stark enjoyed this
sort of minimalistic life outside of the spotlight? Would you even want to live like this?" he
asked while Brooklyn leaned on her tool and stared at the peaceful world around her.

Brooklyn sighed somberly, "Even if I did, I suppose it's not a future I can have. I basically
signed up to be an Avenger for the rest of my life, and I can't ever have this if I have Stark
Industries to worry about on top of that. Not to mention that life as a future hero doesn't
exactly come with a guaranteed lifespan where one can grow old and retire…plus with
everything that is going on and the kind of dangers we face now, it's likely I'll be on the short
end of the spectrum where that's concerned. What about you? Aiming for this peaceful life
outside of Gotham someday?"

He too paused his work, eyeing the swaying trees and even taking a deep breath of the fresh
air.

"Of course not, that would be illogical,” he said assuredly, “I have my job as Robin and
leading Wayne Enterprises as my set future. As you said, we have familiar duties, and the
cons of choosing a life to protect others are what might very well keep us from ever hoping
for such unnatural peace for ourselves. I've seen many heroes fall over the years, it's only
logical we might meet that end too sooner rather than later on some battlefield away from
places like these"

That was as bitterly true, yet another thing they had in common. A life of leadership, pain,
endless duties and possible death at every corner. That was the destiny of both Waynes and
Starks despite their family animosity, and it wasn’t born out of the need to want more fame or
money, it was just plain selflessness. An emotion Brooklyn hadn’t been born with and was
just barely working out.
"It seems we are slaves to the world, you and I," Brook pondered, "Perhaps in my next life I'll
have something as simple as this, but I'll have to work hard to atone for my crimes to earn
that peace, I suppose"

As soon as the bitter words left her mouth, that's when the front door of the house burst open,
sending both teens into fighting stances until they noticed Laura's happy expression locked
towards the sky and what looked like a burner phone in hand. Then the wind picked up, but it
was far too much of a current to be natural.

Brook turned around, ax still in hand as she beheld a familiar Quinjet flying up above and
making to land on the large spot of land near the two teens. The sight of the familiar folding
wings and SHIELD logo on the side was enough to send Brooklyn running, especially when
the hatch opened to reveal her dad with Nat by his side. Neither limping or injured, just
shocked to see her.

Despite herself, Brooklyn ran into Tony's open arms, almost knocking them both down as she
continued asking if he was ok. Tony was quick to return the embrace with as much vigor as
her own, lifting the teen off the ground.

"I should be the one asking you that," Tony said, but held her tighter, "Laura told us you were
here when we were on our way back to New York. I think I broke a few air traffic laws but I
got here as soon as I could. Are you hurt? What happened?"

Brooklyn went quiet, unsure what to say. Then her father froze as well, arms tightening
around her hips and arms as he beheld something behind her. As her eyes widened with
realization, Brook tried to scramble for an excuse she hadn’t bothered to plan out yet. It was
already too late. Her dad was already pulling her back towards the rest of the team, pointing
at Damian as if he were Bigfoot out in the wild.

"What the hell is that Wayne doing here!?" Tony asked, depositing her into Natasha's amused
embrace as the Avengers stared down a stoic Damian. Once sestra's arms came around
Brook, all she could do was watch as Grandpa Steve became the only thing between her dad
tackling the Wayne into oblivion.

Even superhuman strength would not be enough to stop a family feud, Brook knew that.
That's why she shrugged out of the Widow’s hold and moved past Clint's and Laura's
emotional reunion to place a hand on her father's shoulder before he could call an Iron Man
suit that would leave her nemesis as nothing but dust amongst their chopped logs.

"Dad, it's ok," she said, trying to sound as soothing as possible while Damian raised a brow in
challenge at her dad’s battle stance. Before the idiot could get himself killed, Brooklyn came
clean with the truth in front of everyone.

Or most of it...

She left Jon, Peter, and Damian out of her confession of raiding the club, then following the
clues to another lead ‘near’ Gotham, all leading to her intervention of the Joker in Queens.
She had no clue why she kept the others out of trouble (especially Peter), but by the end of it,
Tony looked like he was gonna burst a vein.
"You did all of that behind my back!? How did you even manage to stir up trouble with a full
blown criminal in a few days!? How is that even possible!? You're lucky so many things are
happening otherwise I'd call Pepper so she could yell at you properly, young lady!" Tony said
but still pulled her back into a desperate embrace, placing a kiss atop her head before
Grandpa Steve came forward to place an arm on both their shoulders.

"The important thing is that she is safe, Tony," Steve said with that placating voice of his,
"No one was hurt and people were saved. Now we have more information to go on to stop
this thing"

At that point Natasha came forth, eyeing the quiet teenager still staring at the Avenger's
family interaction with mild curiosity and confusion. Brooklyn might’ve considered telling
Damian to make a break for it if she didn’t think her family could catch up. But they would.

"Why is the boy here then?" Natasha asked, eyeing Damian with all the scrutiny of the Red
Room trophy sizing up a new opponent.

Oh right, she almost forgot about that.

Before Brooklyn could try and come up with a believable lie, Damian straightened and
starred everyone in the eye.

"I found Brooklyn during her escapade near Gotham," he admitted coolly, "It’s there that the
Joker became well aware of my involvement in this weapon's operation, only reinforced by
my role in stopping his plans in Queens"

Tony almost collapsed onto Uncle Scott's and Rhodey's arms when he took a few disorienting
steps back.

"You and my daughter fought together!?" he yelled, looking a little pale.

Just great, leave it to a Wayne to add more fire to the flame.

"WE didn't work together dad, we just so happened to be in the same places when stuff went
to shit," Brooklyn lied swiftly, "but the Joker knows he's..."

"I'm the Robin of Gotham," Damian finished for her, "The Joker knows my identity so he
sent people to kill me yesterday for my involvement. Stark Jr. just so happened to be nearby
to be caught in the crossfire. Left with no choice but to stick together, she brought us to this
safe house until all of you could come back from your respective missions"

For whatever it was worth, Damian’s words seemed to quell her father for a while as the rest
of the team went to hug Brooklyn, whispering reassurances that she was safe and that they
were proud of her work (even if Fury was gonna get an earful for sending her to investigate
the Queens' underground ring later).

It felt fantastic to be in their arms, especially when they only had a few cuts and bruises to
show for their mission. Well, except for Uncle Banner who couldn't really sustain injuries to
begin with. He hadn’t hugged her then, but she knew it was because he was shaken by what
Brook came to know as the after effect of a Code Green. He'd had to become the Hulk
recently, and now he could only sit on the jet's platform with a blanket and music to quell his
nerves.

Bruce did send her a small smile, even a thumbs up as well despite being oblivious to all that
was happening.

She would’ve been a fool to assume the peace would last, in fact, Brook was very much a
fool to think things wouldn’t somehow get worse. It was then that the sound of another jet
resonated past the tree line. Brooklyn was still debating whether or her distrust for
technology was enough to refuse Vision's awkwardly stretched out arms when everyone went
into alert.

"Laura, get back inside, take the kids. We're not expecting anyone else," Clint yelled,
expanding his bow with an arrow at the ready towards the sky as everyone began to suit up.
Brooklyn was about to grab Laura towards safety, but Damian's steady hand on her arm
seized the movement.

"Don't shoot!" Damian commanded, moving to stand closer to the oddly shaped jet landing
next to the Quintet.

No one lowered their weapons though, and just to be on the safe side, Brooklyn placed a
stunned Laura behind her in case the firearms on the mystery jet went off. She even tried to
discreetly reach for Damian to no avail. As soon as the landing pad opened, she knew it
would be useless to worry about his safety. Because emerging from inside was none other
than Bruce Wayne, clad in a business suit like he was on his way to a meeting. From within
the darkness, his three sons appeared just as regally dressed, and his two daughters pushing
another in a wheelchair with their adopted mother by their side.

It was the whole family. The Waynes. The Batman and his deadly allies.

Damian didn’t chase after them like she had with her own family, instead the teen waited for
them to come to him, but Brooklyn could see his eyes were scanning them for injuries just as
she had to her own. Despite being busy with their own missions lately, the Waynes seemed to
be in good health, which Brooklyn was sure Damian was silently relieved by.

What surprised her further was when Jon came flying out of the jet, quickly tacking Damian
into an embrace, then proceeding into a long rant about how worried he'd been yesterday.
Damian hadn’t allowed the touch, easily shoving Jon back in the air until he held him by the
back of his collar. Brook noticed the confusion surrounding her own family at the exchange,
which she tried to mirror so Mr. Wayne wouldn't know she'd already met everyone present.
That would require too much explaining of things that were not exactly...easy to excuse
between their families.

What really had Brook wide-eyed was when Peter came out of the Waynes’ jet, clad in his
hero suit as he looked around the farm in wonder until his masked gaze met her own. That's
when it all came crashing down on her, all she'd been pondering about lately when it came to
him.
His stance alone was indication of his exhaustion. When their eyes locked, Brooklyn hadn’t
expected Peter to rush across the field shouting her name, not with discontent or annoyance,
but relief. Brook had been awful to him just because he was so much better than her in every
way she longed to be. He had no ounce of malice in his bones, it's one of the reasons she
envied him, but it also meant Peter was incapable of hurting her intentionally. He'd not only
kept her secrets but helped in every way he could both as Peter and Spider-man, be it by
being a good friend that made her smile, or by fighting at her side in the middle of the night.

As she'd promised Damian, Brooklyn pushed her pride aside and ran towards her best friend.
It was only momentarily odd to register that she was hugging Spider-man for the first time
with no malice in her heart, yet mask or no mask…she really wouldn’t have had it any other
way. She let Peter spin her around in a tight embrace as he whispered thanks for his answered
prayers over and over to some unseen deity.

Shifting back to look at his face, Brook swiftly removed his mask and stared down at those
kind brown doe-eyes that were indeed visibly tired and brimmed with tears.

"I thought you were dead! You weren't at school, not answering your phone, and then Happy
said you weren't with him…I didn’t know what to think! Then at lunch Jon was freaking out
over Damian having disappeared so I told him I was Spider-man and we both began looking
for you two all over the city! Tanya called her dad for police backup and then Ned began
looking for your phone’s signal but it wasn't traceable! Brooklyn, I thought something awful
had happened and I know you're mad at me-"

Brooklyn cut off Peter's rambling by leaning down, still up in the air in his embrace, and
wrapped her arms around his shoulders. This time her embrace was tighter than the last as
she rested her face against the juncture of his neck.

He’d never stopped looking for her. Peter had even gone as far as to reveal his precious secret
identity to Jon just for the chance of finding her. He may be the smartest person at school, but
Peter was an idiot if he thought Brook was capable of hatred after all that.

"I'm sorry I reacted so poorly about identity when I too have been lying to Peter about mine
all this time, even if you already knew it. You're supposed to be my best friend, I was
supposed to listen and try to understand," she admitted against the fabric of his suit, "I swear
I'm not mad, I was just being jealous and stupid. Most of all I didn’t mean to scare you"

When she dared to look up at last, the first thing she noticed was his blinding and
unrestrained smile, one she answered with the best of her own she could summon before
Brook was tackled out of his arms and onto the grass by the half-Kryptonian of all people. As
soon as his weight settled atop her own, the teen's bright blue eyes met hers with unrestrained
joy.

"I'm so glad you're alive too! We were worried sick!" he said. Brooklyn wasn't aware Jon
cared about her well being so much, but she guessed that's just how he was. Done with
keeping grudges for the sake of appearances, Brooklyn gently pushed Kent off before
granting him a quick hug.

"Glad you're doing ok too, Kansas" she admitted.

Unbeknownst to Brook, while she and the others had been busy with the reunions, both
families had gathered around the four teens…glaring at them with nearly identical
disapproving poses, hands crossed atop their chests and brows raised in question.

Brooklyn was quick to let go of Damian’s best friend under the scrutiny.

When Bruce Wayne demanded an explanation for everything, Damian wisely provided the
same half-truths Brook had told her own family, leaving out Peter and Jon until they felt the
need to claim their involvement as well even if it meant being dragged onto the scrutinizing
spotlight.

"I can't believe you all know he's Spider-man! Especially my daughter!" Tony grunted at
some point, pointing down at Peter accusingly as he sat beside her on the grass, hand resting
reassuringly atop her own. Brooklyn shot her dad a glare as if daring him to talk about kept
secrets again. Wisely, he halted his interruption.

Once the tale was up to date, leaving out the visit to Gotham (which Damian’s siblings
thankfully kept quiet about), the teens’ willingness to work together, the nights spent in her
apartment, the kiss, and all peculiar and forbidden moments from yesterday, everyone looked
about ready to yell their ears off despite leaving out the worst bits.

Only no one got the chance. Either as an effort to spare the teens a stern talking to or just
genuinely annoyed, Uncle Clint stepped forward into the circle, motioning to everyone
around them with an unlocked arrow.

"How did the Waynes know to come to my house then?" Clint said, "What is this? Everyone's
personal airport?"

Peter raised his hand sheepishly, "I was with Jon looking for our friends when I got the text
from Mr. Stark about Brooklyn being here. He wanted to know if I knew why. Then Jon
thought Damian might be here too so he decided to follow me in case there was trouble, and
then Jon called Mr. Wayne so he could stop the search party in Gotham now that we had a
lead and he picked us up in his flying bat-looking jet that could get us here in minutes and..."

Tony raised a hand to placate Peter's usual breathless ramblings, whispering something about
his head hurting. When Brooklyn went over to stand by his side for whatever comfort that
would provide, Natasha pointed out, "So it appears that the vigilante that kept us from
helping Gotham all these years is you, Mr. Wayne. I recognize that jet from police feeds of
your peculiar city"

Oh shit…she forgot all about the delicate matter of secret identities. Only, to her shock, Tony
didn’t seem the least bit amused about the revelation when he should’ve been the most
flamboyant about it all.

Her dad merely sighed dramatically before addressing sestra, "That’s old news, Nat. It's not
like I stalked Brucy's every move for a prank years ago and figured it out by coincidence. It's
not like I've known for years and have only kept it to myself for the perfect moment in which
Brucy would piss me off enough that I could reveal my knowledge along with a bat joke so
grand it would leave him forever questioning his alter ego’s fashion sense. I suppose it's too
bad I still haven't come up with one that's worthy enough"

He'd known about that too!?

"So you knew Damian was Robin!?" Brooklyn asked, eyes wide as she clutched her dad's
arm.

At that Tony shook his head, "I just assumed all of Brucy's sidekicks were Justice League
rejects or interns of some kind. Now I see you have a much bigger family than I originally
thought, Brucy. Good lord, your tax refunds must be insane"

Bruce was staring at her dad from the other side of the self-made circle with that cold
indifference of his that promised nothing but pain, Damian by his side along with the other
members of his family. A subtle twitch of the Batman’s brow was the only sign of his
surprise at the revelation, but perhaps it would’ve been best to label that emotion as
annoyance.

It was Bruce and Tony who stepped forward in unison into the space between them, Jon and
Peter stepping aside from the center of the circle, but both looking ready to break up a fight.

Tony looked smug and confident as always, even when Damian's dad towered a good head
over him. They stopped two feet before one another, one clad in an old band t-shirt and jeans
while the other brandished a luxury suit. Tony’s team, his family, stood behind him ready to
back up their friend…Brooklyn and Peter included. Though they too didn’t seem overly
hostile or prepared to pounce, the Waynes were no doubt ready to do the same. Even the
Quinjet and Batman’s jet looked as if they were facing off against one another further in the
distance, a cruel reminder that whatever peace she’d selfishly indulged last night and this
morning was nothing but an illusion.

Things were quiet for a few tense heartbeats, nothing but the sound of passing flocks of birds
and the distant sound of the farm animals passing between both enemy teams. Peter and
Brook glanced at one another with uncertainty, looking towards where Damian and Jon were
ready to back up Batman just as they were for her otets. Brooklyn must’ve imagined the
hesitation in the teens’ gaze, the look in Damian’s eyes that reminded her of what he’d
looked like that morning under the sun’s early rays and covers splayed over his fit body.

"The Joker has gone too far," Bruce spoke at last, deep and commanding voice loud enough
for everyone to hear as he added, "He went after our kids and attempted to lay destruction on
our cities. Though I despise to even think of this, it seems like the Avengers and the Justice
League would be able to stop this issue sooner if we start sharing information with one
another"

A pointed glare was cast at the four teens.

"Unfortunately, this is a matter of worldwide security now," her dad admitted, "If stopping
this mess requires me to team up with the Caped Crusader then so be it. But just know that
the Avengers are likely be doing most of the work anyways"
Damian stepped forward beside his father’s side at that, but not quite achieving his usual
menacing aura with that outfit of his. He still radiated danger and cruelty, a mask she hadn’t
seen him bother with during their brief time on this farmhouse. Brooklyn wasn’t sure why it
bothered her, was even more clueless why she felt the urge to smirk at the sight of his return
at the same time.

She was going out of her mind. That's what was happening.

"We can do just as much work as you can, Stark," Damian snapped, only for Bruce to shoot
his son a glare as if to tell him to keep his mouth shut. An order Damian looked ready to
ignore, that is until his father spoke up again.

"YOU won't be taking part in any of this Damian," the Wayne commanded, "you're
grounded"

Brooklyn actually let out a quick laugh at Damian's fuming form, only held back from
attacking Batman by Dick Grayson, that is until her own dad pivoted to chuckle at her
laughing form.

"Not so fast young lady," Tony said, pointing at her, "You're off the mission too, and
grounded! You're lucky I have a lot to discuss with you that you won't get an immediate
punishment, but trust me when I tell you that there will be much to answer for"

Brooklyn felt her jaw drop to the floor. As far as she could understand, being grounded meant
she’d done something wrong, inadequately. It meant she’d failed to meet some sort of
standard, and failing was a feeling she’d only just recently experienced and grew to despite. It
left her speechless, wide-eyed, and frozen in place.

Before Jon could try and make himself visible, likely to go to Damian’s aid, his godfather
turned to him with a glare as well. Despite Jon not being his son, he enacted a grounding
order on him, as well as the promise to tell his father everything. Then before anyone could
blink, Spider-man was locked into a non-nonsense glare from Tony as well. He too was given
the promise of a severe grounding, and when Aunt May was brought up, he and Brook were
already trembling in fear at what the woman’s own disappointment would look like.

Punished and humiliated, the four teens were sent to a picnic table near the distant farmlands
while the adults discussed specifics on how they would join forces to combat the Joker…
even when it was the four of them who got the most valuable information so far. Damian had
to be physically dragged away as he screamed vulgar insults at his father in Arabic, a job she
and Jon took care of.

When Bruce, his wife, and Tony made their way back from their meeting towards the silent
kids playing with the Bartons' dog (save for Brook obviously), they weren’t fuming with
anger as before, in fact, they looked...anxious? Brooklyn didn’t let the fear take hold, not
even as Jon and Peter were sent away to the jets with a simple command from Bruce and
Tony. Leaving only the two ex-assassins ready to receive the blunt end of any extra words of
disappointment they’d been silently preparing for.
Instinctively looking for any clues as to their nervousness, Brooklyn couldn't help but notice
Selina Wayne had a hand resting fondly on her stomach. It was an usual enough gesture that
when the woman caught her staring, she smirked.

"Before we go back home, we thought it would be best to tell you this in private like we did
with your siblings. Mostly because your dad thinks you’ll destroy the Manor" Selina said to
Damian, who was already sitting up in alarm realizing this wasn't about the punishment for
their rather heroic actions.

The woman smiled up at her stoic husband as she announced her pregnancy with enthusiasm.

Beside her, Damian stood speechless, staring at his father and stepmother as if he couldn't
quite believe it. After glaring a bit, then frowning, followed by a few tired sighs, the youngest
(or soon to not be the the youngest) her personal Wayne nemesis replied passively, "Then I
hope father has enough sense to leave you out of this mission as well. Perhaps it is time he
picked up a few books on raising a baby since he's only ever had to deal with troublesome
teens and toddlers from the streets, and even that's been done with mild success considering
one of them tried to open a Nutella jar with his teeth last week"

With that, Damian walked away into the house mumbling something about getting his stuff
ready for the trip. Brook didn’t know why, but she felt the urge to go to him and help calm
the turmoil of emotions he was facing the same way he had for her last night. It was a
pathetically misplaced instinct, but considering he’d admitted to not caring about his step-
mom that very night, Brook couldn’t fathom what this sudden change meant to him now.

She might’ve assumed suddenly telling Damian the news was meant to be a punishment were
it not for the fact that the Wayne pair seemed both upset and unnerved at the same time. They
were snapped out of their silence when Tony spoke up with a sarcastic congratulations on
their pregnancy, no doubt something that might lead into a long battle of words and insults
she didn’t much care for.

Brooklyn made to go inside to get her things as well to avoid said Wayne-Stark family drama,
perhaps even with the possible intention of talking to Da...no she wouldn't do that, why was
that even a fleeting thought? Before she could even get up from the table, Brook was stopped
by her father, who suddenly glanced back and forth between the jet and her, his voice
softening ever so slightly as if he expected Brooklyn to start screaming.

"Well, speaking of growing families and news not yet shared..." Tony began nervously.

"What! Pepper is pregnant too!?" Brooklyn shouted, quickly standing from the table to give
her dad a hug. She for one had no qualms about her adoptive mother unlike Damian, and if
she was pregnant, Brook knew it was meant to be seen as a big milestone for the family.

Her smile vanished slightly when Tony shook his head somberly. Beside them, the Waynes
stopped their staring in the direction of the farm house where Damian had stomped off to,
now with questioning looks of their own directed at the two Starks.

Tony sat her back down, clutching her hands as he placed his transparent phone on the table,
showing holographic images of a town in flames from various angles as well as varying
angles of news coverage.

"Remember how I told you I might have to investigate some weapon activity in Rose Hill,
Tennessee?" he asked, staring at the levitating images with an invisible weight on his
shoulders.

"Yeah. I'm guessing that's the place you went off to," she whispered, analyzing the images for
survivors with mild horror. Destruction didn’t look the same as it always had, not now that
she’d decided to help keep people alive. Now it left a sinking feeling in her stomach even if
the blood and gore didn’t bother her.

Tony sighed, "We got there in time to evacuate most folks, but there were multiple attacks
launched in various small cities. The team had to slip up when we found out about it in D.C."

More images of other cities appeared, some she recognized because...because Harley Quinn's
tracker had been active in all of them recently. It wasn’t her running around in an attempt to
escape the authorities, each city she’d visited became a target of attack.

"This wasn't your fault, dad," Brook found herself saying, "don't be burdened by this chaos
you only tried to stop"

If anything, she should’ve acted quicker.

Brooklyn's dad shot her a grateful smile while he embraced her briefly. A hug that only
mildly quelled the guilt swirling in her mind, even if she knew that going over to every city
to stop the attacks would do nothing but tell the Joker their movements were being tracked
somehow. In terms of the grand scheme of things, it would’ve been the wrong call to make.

"I'm not telling you this to vent about the mission or as an excuse for not noticing your
absence sooner," he replied, "This has something to do with our family, you see. A while
back when a terrorist called the Mandarin was at large…well I'm sure you saw my house in
Malibu blowing up in the news a few years ago"

Brooklyn nodded, remembering her irrational fear then when she’d thought Tony was dead
without her having even the chance to meet him properly.

"Well, long story short, I passed out during the attack and my prototype suit took me to Rose
Hill where a kid helped me get back on my feet. His name is Harley Keener, a fourteen year
old that's actually really smart despite his circumstances. I've kept track of him for years
mostly because his old man bailed on the family, so I've been sending checks and stuff to
keep his education going. That's how I found out about the strange stuff going on there, the
kid was clever enough to contact me as soon as mysterious deaths started happening" Tony
said.

Brooklyn wasn’t surprised by his kindness after hearing what he'd done for Scott's family and
the Bartons. She couldn’t help but wonder just how many families his kindness had touched,
how many people like her owed him their lives and he merely shrugged it off as if everyone
would do it. It was the opposite of his usual narcissism and selfishness most people
associated with Tony Stark.
"I’m guessing by the state of the city that the kid died," Brooklyn said hesitantly since he
clearly seemed emotionally attached to the kid.

That's when Tony pointed towards the jet, "I hate to drop this on you like this, especially after
all that happened to you recently and seeing as I know you're not used to new people or every
aspect of family but...Pepper is in the jet with Harley right now. His remaining family died
during that attack, he had nowhere to go and we’d planned to go to your apartment and tell
you over a nice meal without the pressure of needing to meet him right away since we’re…"

Oh, so this is what he’d meant by their growing family.

Admittedly, Brooklyn might've been very reluctant about this in the past, perhaps even mildly
upset and jealous. Looking at the images of the burning city before her, the engulfing fires
that reached for the heavens that burned places those people had considered their forever
homes, killing the families they loved and treasured…there was no part of her that could
think to be selfish at a time like this.

It reminded her of the image of a little girl leaving a burning base in Russia behind, what it
had felt like to leave all she knew in the past.

"You guys want to adopt the kid and think I'm gonna freak out," Brooklyn clarified, ignoring
the Waynes' stunned faces.

Maybe she did want to freak out...but there was a time when Brook had nothing, then she got
this family by chance and became a better person because of it. Now looking towards the
Quinjet, Brook caught sight of her mom walking out into the grassy fields covered in
wildflowers with a pale fourteen year old kid who looked rather shaken. He was very slim,
but not from malnutrition, rather from an ongoing growth spurt no doubt. Despite his short
golden-brown hair whipping around in the wind, Brook caught sight of those sad blue eyes
that frantically searched around for someone until they locked into Tony's direction with
some sort of instant relief.

That kid idolized her father the way Peter did, that much was obvious. Now that was all he
had.

Harley was lost and without family, looking at Tony like he encompassed his entire hope in
the world. Brook had never thought of becoming a daughter to anyone, much less a sister, but
if even someone like Damian—who didn't like anyone— had managed with adopted siblings
for most of his life then so could she. Right?

"I'm not sure how to help him," Brooklyn admitted, sending a small genuine smile towards
the boy and Pepper waiting in the distance, "but I’ll try to be a worthy sister, I’ll learn from
the basic building blocks if I must"

It may have been the reflection of the sun, but Brook could’ve sworn she saw tears gathering
in her father’s eyes as he patted her shoulder in approval. In thanks.

Lest to say that by the time everyone went back to their respective jets, things were
considerably less tense than they’d been upon the hero’s arrival. Brooklyn hadn’t bothered to
strap herself to the seat on the side of the Quinjet, as everyone else settled into their own
spots and the course back home was being programmed, she couldn’t help but to stare out the
window behind her where she caught sight of Damian's retreating form before they both flew
back to their homes.

After spending so much time in one another’s company, albeit for less than favorable
circumstances, she’d surprisingly survived without wanting to kill him. She hadn’t dared to
process it all, not yet at least. Somehow, Damian must’ve known she was staring, because he
turned around at the mouth of his jet’s entrance and managed to lock his gaze onto her distant
window. They nodded to one another secretly, a silent agreement to use the walkie-talkies to
figure out how to proceed their secret mission no matter what the adults said. Jon and Peter
had already agreed to keep their efforts going while they’d been set aside while the adults
talked.

That's the only thing that nod meant, a scheduled appointment. It wasn’t a silent thanks for
holding her shaking form at night, nor gratitude for helping him escape the Joker’s lackeys.
They were a Wayne and Stark after all, expressing those kinds of emotions was forbidden.
His gaze lingered for a while until one of his brothers, the broadest of the lot with a streak of
white in his hair, pulled him inside the darkness of their vehicle and away from her sight.

By the time Brook’s parents joined her in the main seating area, dodging a few stressed
reprimands from Rhodey and indulging a quick hug from Peter, she hesitantly stood and
made to crouch before the occupied seat between her parents. When Harley looked up into
her eyes, there was that same recognition in them that Lila Barton had displayed before.

Though she was nervous to scare him off, or worse make him hate her, Brooklyn brandished
one of her best practiced smiles and said as softly as she could, "Hello, Harley. My name is
Brooklyn Stark"

The young teen nodded, and just as hesitantly, he replied softly, "I know, you're on TV all the
time"

She nodded, smiling at the ground. Brook took a deep breath, reminded herself that this was a
chance to not only be a different person than fate had planned out for her, but to right a
wrong. She’d spent her youth killing innocent children like Harley, girls who’d never get to
grow up and see the world she now lived in…this was her chance to help instead of hurt.

"Don't worry about a thing, ok? As part of the family, you're safe with us from now on,"
Brooklyn said, aware the jet had gone silent as she added "I'm your big sister from now on
too, so if you ever need anything I'll be there. Whatever it takes"

The boy actually managed a wide-lipped smile, and when his tear stained face and shaking
body lunged down towards her own for a hug, Brooklyn didn’t fight it. In fact, she and her
crying parents held on to one another and Harley for the duration of the flight until the jet
landed back at the compound.

Brook realized then, that maybe unexpected things weren’t so bad after all.
Chapter End Notes

Who said Tony and Bruce have nothing in common? Those two and adopting kids...

Also important to note, the scene of the shared bedroom was not written with the
purpose of 'oh! There is only one bed wink wink'. It wasn't meant to be a moment of
sexual tension as it often is when used. This was about Brook's scars. About trust and
growth. I hope this conveyed that 😊

Hope some of you remembered Harley from Iron Man 3. I have been dying to introduce
him to the story for a while now. We'll see how Brook fairs at being a sister!
 The Devil's Bargain
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

House arrest was not as bad as she assumed. But it still sucked.

After her little stunt making the Joker's life miserable, Brook's dad had made it abundantly
clear that she was to stay in her apartment as much as possible to avoid any more trouble.
What he'd actually meant was that Brook was supposed to stay out of sight so she wouldn't
become a new target of the suicidal clown.

That meant no going out on patrols with an equally grounded Peter. Despite the fact that she'd
graduated as an agent of SHIELD, even Fury had been swayed by a cluster of angry and
concerned Avengers to keep her out of any field work for the time being. Not only was she
not allowed to at least patrol— a job temporarily handed over to Uncle Clint— but Brooklyn
got all of most of research confiscated by her sestra. It was all taken to some joint facility for
all the heroes to use as they saw fit to top it all off.

At least Agent Coulson had the right mind to congratulate Brook on her good work, but that
didn’t stop him from reminding her she still had to graduate from another division of
SHIELD Academy. That's why the teen spent her days enhancing her knowledge of science
and technology outside of school hours if only to stay sane. Of course she also had her Stark
Industries work to contend with as well, in which she was given updates on the happenings of
the company to review, small things to approve, and even had to forego her 'stay at home
unless its for school' order to visit the Stark building in Manhattan a few times.

All of that made her 'punishment' seem less severe at times.

Despite her colossal loss where her secret mission was concerned, at least Brook had been
able to use some of her time to improve the A.I. she'd been constructing recently. Thanks to
all her newly acquired knowledge on the subject, the program seemed to be showing
promising results.

Had Brooklyn not felt the slightest amount of guilt for making her loved ones worry, she
might've been more upset over this punishment, especially since she couldn't even walk to
school anymore. No, now Happy was in charge of taking Brook and Peter to school, and that
man was not a morning person at all. On the drive back home after school or Decathlon
practice, he at least stopped by a fast food restaurant and treated the teens to some food,
which would've been kind of him were it not for the fact that he required a payment of all
their fries for his services.

At least she and Pete weren't the only ones who'd been suffering these past two weeks.
As much as Brooklyn hated to admit it, even with their school project finished and graded to
perfection, she still kept in contact with the Wayne. Every day, Brooklyn's walkie-talkie
would go off, and she never considered ignoring it. In the beginning, they spent most of their
talks via walkie-talkie for planning what to do to help the adults, but they quickly realized
there wasn't really much they could get done when they were both watched like hawks at the
moment.

For Brook, someone from her family called the apartment every few hours to make sure she
was still serving her punishment. Peter's window had been sealed by Tony to make sure the
teen wouldn't go out to do any hero work, not that it was necessary with Aunt May calling
him nearly as often as Brook was checked up on. And from what the Wayne had mentioned,
when Jon wasn't in Queens for school, he was under watch in Kansas with his grandmother,
forbidden from going to Gotham to keep his friend company.

As for Damian, like her...he had nothing to do but talk, so their walkie-talkie conversations
had increased from just a quick message before bed, to long talks in the afternoons she lazily
spent in bed with piles of mundane work before her.

After quickly realizing that there wasn't much they could do nowadays in terms of the Joker,
the conversations hadn’t dulled, much to her surprise. The Wayne usually had more
interesting tales than she did, probably because he attempted to escape the manor every
chance he got. As of last night, attempt number 34 to get past his brother's 'Damian proof'
security system had failed.

Apparently, the adopted Waynes were notorious for trying to flee the manor in their youth,
enough so that Bruce Wayne knew every possible way Damian could try to escape.
Yesterday's failed attempt was dubbed by his eldest brother as the 'Jason Todd escape attempt
of 2004'.

Though her nemesis' last intention during those talks was to make her laugh, his escapades
always brought Brook the greatest burst of amusement that had her laughing for minutes
without hopes of stopping. She despised admitting it, but it was apparent that Damian Wayne
had quickly become one of the few people in the world that could make her smile.

"He actually threw you back inside the window?" Brooklyn asked last night, "You actually
jumped out and he tossed you back in!?"

From the other end of the line, she'd heard a scoff.

"Titus bit off Drake's suit leg, therefore I'd say my mission wasn't a complete failure" Damian
had replied, sending Brooklyn stumbling back on her bed with full-bodied laughter. She
couldn't help but hone her gaze on her wall of polaroids then, eyeing the photo of an angry
Damian at the farm house, grumpily laying on the bed with the most ridiculous clothing
ensemble.

The way she preferred to see it, even though their temporary alliance for a project or secret
missions were over...this was like a new kind of alliance, one born out of two teens being
locked up when they should be out there helping their families. A mutual understanding that
they were being treated unjustly by their own sides.
Even when both Peter and Jon were suffering similar fates, their punishment was not also
doubling as a sort of controlled detox. In Bruce and Tony's eyes, their children having spent
even just a day in each other's company was unthinkable, so they’d issued this punishment
with the hopes that the two would no longer end up in the same place and the same time.

In terms of school, they couldn't do much about it.

As Peter and Brooklyn watched Happy drive off down the street, another car pulled up
behind them, one she was now completely familiar with. It was a black vintage mustang
driven by Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne's... well according to Damian, the man was not
exactly a butler, perhaps a willing family employee would be a better term.

From their place standing on the sidewalk, Brooklyn could see the older man smiling at her
from within the vehicle, suit perfectly pressed, and eyes as kind as the first time he'd seen her
since the odd punishment began.

"Good morning, Mistress Brooklyn," Alfred said, leaning over the seat to wave her way.
Unlike the first few times when Brook had been struck with confusion on what to do, now the
girl waved back with familiarity.

That's when the back doors opened, revealing a chipper Jon clad in his football jersey, then
Damian in his now familiar ensemble of black pressed pants, and dark colored flannel. His
emerald eyes met her own, the only acknowledgment she would get with students passing by.

Despite having long talks, they tried to keep their behavior the same at school lest it get back
to their parents that their children were actually within breathing distance of one another. Jon
had no such reservations. He was quick to rush over to place a strong arm around Peter and
Brook’s shoulders, greeting them as enthusiastically he did every day.

Since Damian hadn’t done anything to discourage the behavior, that likely meant they could
trust Alfred to keep quiet about that odd developing act of friendship...

Like clockwork, Brooklyn knew Jon would drag them to school with tales of his chores back
in Kansas, which Peter found very interesting for some reason. She had a feeling he idolized
Jon the way the Kryptonian did Spider-man. By the time they reached the gates, Jon would
go back to walking with Damian, and the two groups head into school separately.

Not today though.

First Brook heard a bark, then a dark figure leapt out of the mustang's window…heading
straight for her. Locked in Jon's embrace, the girl could do nothing to dodge as a giant black
dog leapt up on its hind legs to attack her into an 'embrace'. When Brook collapsed back on
the concrete with Damian's dog excitedly licking her cheeks, the girl's natural distaste for
animals reached its metaphorical limit for the century.

With a stern voice she rarely used these days, Brook commanded, "Sit, beast!"

Like the last time she'd seen the Great Dane, the dog complied with her orders. Swiftly
moving back to sit before her sprawled form, Damian’s dog was looking much like his usual
intimidating self, except for the tail wagging of course. The Wayne was instantly at his pet's
side, frown deepening as he commanded Titus to return to the vehicle where she caught
Alfred smiling for some reason. Thankfully for everyone involved, the beast did as it was
told, but sent one last look her way before Pennyworth drove away.

"Woah!" Jon said, rushing over to help her up from the ground as a hoard of passing students
stared at them, "I've never seen Titus so friendly with anyone other than Damian! Even
though I've known him for years, Titus still tries to kill me sometimes"

Brooklyn accepted the kryptonian's hand, brushing off the concrete dust from her rouge skirt,
doing her best to keep the disheveled flowered top from revealing too much of her back.

"I don’t care why that is, I despise animals" she mumbled to herself, earning a scoff from
Damian behind her.

Now waking between both Peter and Jon, the Stark was only half-listening to the kryptonian's
rant about any and all instances in which Titus attacked...well, everyone...but half her
thoughts were still on the teen walking behind them. When she turned back to catch a glance
of her nemesis, he was not glaring at his phone for once. Damian was staring right at her,
today's frown, one of rare confusion. Odd considering Brook had guessed he trained his beast
to attack her because he knew of her distaste for Titus. When she raised a brow in question,
the Wayne merely scoffed.

Though this past week had been...new in terms of getting used to being grounded, there was
also the matter of being stared at more than usual. It didn’t help that Damian seemed to have
joined into the habit today, quite frankly that unsettled her the most.

As students made their way to the gates, once they spotted her, it was almost as if they
gawked in awe. The first day that had occurred, Brooklyn had been caught off guard,
especially once the school day was over and people were outside the school gates waiting for
an autograph. But now that her mind was not constantly searching for the Joker everywhere
she went, Brook was able to shut out most of the stares...most.

There were others who didn’t seem content with just observing her in a not so discreet
manner.

As she walked between Peter and Jon, clutching her Engineering book to her chest as a
means of warmth, a boy dressed in a football jersey walked right into their path. After
attending a few games and basically being friends with the Captain (Harry) and unofficial co-
captain (Jon), Brooklyn was able to identify the tall boy before as Malcolm, one of the team's
linebackers.

Yes, she knew what that term meant now.

"Hey, Brooklyn," the boy said, puffs of cold air accompanying his words as those dark eyes
met her own.

Great. Another day, another fool.

"Hello Malcolm," Brook replied exasperatedly, ignoring Jon's subtle smirk as she asked the
intruder of her morning routine what she could help him with. The boy's rich brown skin did
nothing to hide his blush, but his expression and aura were still bathing in confidence, no
doubt something he learned from his good friend, Flash.

"I was wondering, since we both have a Calculus test this week," Malcom began, "I thought
we could go get some milkshakes and study together"

Brooklyn fought the urge to sigh out loud, especially when she noticed the familiar cover title
of a magazine hidden between the books he carried so carelessly.

It had taken a while to work out, a little too long for a trained spy if she was being honest, but
eventually Brooklyn had worked out the reason for her recent torture. That magazine was
why more and more people had approached her as of late, and she supposed there was no one
to blame for herself.

As promised to her dad, Brooklyn didn’t want her mom to suffer though chasing away the
media for her sake. That's why last week, Brook sucked up her discomfort and attended a few
TV interviews (pre-recorded just in case her perfect lies faltered, which they didn’t), more
than enough photo shoots to last a lifetime for various worldwide magazines, and she'd even
agreed to wear dresses from some very persistent brands for special events.

It had been torture, but Pepper already had so much on her hands helping Harley deal with
the pain of loosing his birth mother to add on to her troubles. Speaking of Harley Keener, the
poor kid had gone to his mother’s funeral last week, insisting to do it by himself. Even now
Tony thought it was best to not throw him to the wolves, so Harley and Pepper were staying
at an apartment in Manhattan until the kid was a little more pacified to brave the chaos of the
Compound.

Despite her surprisingly busy schedule, Brooklyn had still managed to squeeze in a few texts
and calls to her mom, checking in on her new ‘brother’ if only because she had no clue how
else to help. She did wonder sometimes if Harley had seen the TV interviews like everyone at
school had, and at times it worried her that he had. Brooklyn had been exactly what the world
expected of her in those public appearances, a confident and snarky Stark, one who had
bright Colgate smiles, not a worry in the world save for earning her future inheritance and the
distant hope for a better world. If Harley based her character on that, she would no doubt
have a lot of confessions and damage control to deal with.

Though Brooklyn didn’t care in the least what everyone else thought of her afterwards, Stark
Industries had happily reported that her public image had skyrocketed after all uselessness.
The company was benefiting from it. That meant less work for mom, a proud father...what
more could Brook ask for?

The only downside was all the fanatics it involved. In the past week alone, Brooklyn had
been asked out by thirteen guys. Tanya always found it amusing, but Brook was beginning to
despise what upcoming publicity responsibilities would result in the near future.
Unfortunately for her, Malcolm seemed to be a smarter fellow that she'd originally given him
credit for. He had already figured out that without Tanya and Harry to hustle bothersome
people away, Brooklyn was left somewhat defenseless.
He’d picked his time to approach her well.

Brook had yet to master the art of turning people down without being aggressive or violent.
Her only salvation in times like these was logic. Luckily, dear Malcom seemed to be of
average IQ despite his ability to find her at the weakest of times.

"No need to trouble yourself, I'm certain the test won't be complicated enough to require a
study session" she said, fighting the urge to cling to Peter for help. Even now, she refused to
give in to weakness like that.

Malcolm Dean smiled, a sultry gesture, "I know you're crazy smart, the studying would be
for my benefit of course. Maybe even just being around you will make me smarter…or we
could get to know each other better if you would like?"

Just as she was about to explain to him that he could not absorb knowledge from a person, a
surprising voice spoke up in her defense. The last person Brook expected to care.

Damian stepped up to stand beside Jon, his usual emerald glare intensifying enough to make
Malcolm take a few subconscious steps back. Though the Wayne was just a hair shorter than
the linebacker, he looked as if the taller of the two at that moment. As if he was the one
wielding all the advantages and power merely by standing there.

Her nemesis, impeccably dressed and infinitely bored, looked Malcolm from head to toe with
that unnerving judgmental stare of his, one that made the Midtown student flinch with
insecurity.

When the Wayne slowly moved forward, nothing but a single step, Jon appeared to be ready
to halt his friend from doing something stupid like pick a fight. Almost as if he expected it.
But Damian just stood there, hands behind his back and covering Malcolms line of sight from
Brooklyn. The poor football player looked terrified, visibly shaken.

With a stern tone only mastered by adults well above their age, Damian mused, "You wish to
spend an evening with her, Dean? In that case, your application has been submitted and is
pending board approval"

"Application!? I'm just asking her out on a date, not for a business deal!" the teen shouted,
only to be silenced by what Brook could only assume to be another of Damian's glares. This
time Malcolm visibly lowered his head, and those behind him able to see Damian’s face
flinched back onto their lockers, the sounds of which echoed like a beat of unnerving drums.

"Oh, would you look at that," the demon replied with mocking amusement, "Your application
has been denied. Now be gone, I will not allow this trivial quest of courtship to make me late
for class. If we’re further delayed by your foolish arguments, know it will be Stark who
receives my detention slip, and you who becomes the receiving end of her wrath"

Brook felt her blood boil, especially as Damian casually walked past a stunned Malcolm,
practically gliding down the football field towards the school building like he owned the
place. Ignoring the stunned teenager, Brooklyn rushed over to catch up with Damian,
realizing half way that even though his little stunt had been for the benefit of his attendance
record...it had also spared her from dealing with the invitations of Harry's persistent
teammate.

Her angry stomps lessened then, and by the time she reached his side all her fire was out, but
Brook was still far too proud to even think about thanking him.

Looking back to make sure Jon and Peter were following (which they were after quite
obviously apologizing the a statue-like Malcom), Book turned back to her nemesis, only to
see his gaze was already pointed down onto her own. Tilting her head up in challenge, she
met his strong eyes with equal fervor, not missing a single step.

Even though students standing and walking past them were nothing but quick blurry
distractions, visibly wide-eyed at seeing the enemies of the century locked in a silent battle
together, the Stark didn’t pay them or their whispered worries any mind.

"What's your problem with Malcolm anyways?" she asked, knowing full well that Damian
usually ignored everyone but Jon. Him speaking up earlier was not normal behavior, it was
personal.

The Wayne kept to his lazy pace, occasionally shifting that stoic glare towards all that passed
by him, the thickening crowds making way for him in fear and awe. Making way for them
both it seemed. Brook casually noted the girls looking at him with something far from fear,
but rather lust and desire...those dense fools. Luckily Brooklyn's own displeased staring had
them looking away before she could throw up from the sight alone.

"Dean and I are not acquainted, but his ridiculous efforts to enact an environment to initiate
coitus with you were getting in the way of my educational endeavors" Damian said, stone-
faced despite his causally delivered inferences.

Brooklyn felt her blood in her body rush to her cheeks. In anger, definitely in anger.

"He did not offer to have sex with me!" she whisper-yelled as their eyes locked in a battle of
pointed glares once again, "He just wanted to go study, get to know each other for the sake of
social status"

An arm wound around her shoulders then, and Harry's amused voice pointed out beside her,
"All guys mean the same thing when they want to 'get to know a girl better.' You're a proper
young lady, so I understand why you'd be too innocent to comprehend it. Good thing you've
got me here to interpret."

Turning to face her friend, she found he was already smirking, brown eyes bright with mirth,
sending her a Hollywood wink before shifting those eyes beside her at Damian with dulled
excitement.

"Ah! Damian Wayne, always a pleasure to see you so early in the morning when the world is
at its most miserable" Harry said, sending Damian a half hearted salute, to which Damian
scowled at.
"Osborn. Of course you would know how typical hormonal boys would think, your
reputation precedes you"

Marvelous.

The famous ‘rich freak’ triplets of the school were now together in one place, what could
possibly go wrong?

"Some girls just can't resist my good looks, my style, and my unflinching skills to listen to
Taylor Swift" Harry replied, almost sending her into a fit of laughter at how serious he
sounded.

Damian, on the other hand, did not find the joke as amusing. He eyed Harry with disgust
before dragging an approaching Jon inside the school building. Clearly he’d had enough of
being in their presence…but Damian still spared her one more glance as he made past the
large doors. The Wayne's gaze didn’t soften, but it wasn’t as menacing as before when he
shot her a simple nod.

Brook knew what that nod meant, it wasn’t a taunt or a subtle insult to their bickering earlier.
S he returned the gesture, watching as Peter did the same subtly enough that their nearing
friends didn’t notice the oddity.

To the school’s student body, Brook and Peter were 'Spanish class acquaintances' with Jon,
but aside from the mornings when the kryptonian greeted them fondly, the four of them were
never seen together afterwards...at least not as their civilian selves.

By some miracle, the final chapters of Romeo and Juliet were among them.

Today was a little different from most days, because instead of being confined to the walls of
Mrs. Pettel's classroom, she'd dragged them all to the school auditorium. Brook, MJ, and
Tanya sat on the polished floors of the main stage, just finishing up their discussion on their
planned social events for after school (they had developed a priority of hanging out with
Brook after what happened two weeks ago).

As soon as Brooklyn had come back to school the Monday after missing class thanks to the
Joker, her friends had been frantic. Understandably so considering that not only had Brook
not come to school or answered their texts, but Damian Wayne had also been missing. They
had naturally feared the worst, coming to the obvious conclusion that the two teenagers of
opposing families had finally had enough and ended up in a bad brawl outside school that
morning.

Peter had been worried too, but upon finding out Damian was also missing, he'd realized the
Joker being involved was highly probable. So when none of the Avengers replied to his
worried texts, he'd gone to Jon, revealed his identity, and spent most of Friday with Ned
trying to track them down. Aside from looking around for them, Peter also had the bright idea
of calming down anyone who asked about her, saying she was with her family to anyone who
asked. But in the end, it was Brook's dad that made the call to the school office detailing the
story of a last minute Stark Industries meeting involving Brook, one so secret no phones were
allowed.

A similar, if not identical, excuse had been used for Damian. Brooklyn had been told that it
was not Bruce Wayne who had called in to the office to explain the Wayne Enterprises
emergency, but the demon's eldest brother. Richard Grayson. It was that man, otherwise
known as Nightwing, that Damian spoke of the most during their secret talks. He often
complained about how overbearing the man was, or how much Dick loved to bother him with
kind advice and affection.

Now that Brook understood what she liked to call the 'Subtle Intricacies of the Damian
Language and Speech', she knew her nemesis was not bothered by his eldest brother in the
least, but it was more like Damian had no clue how to be affectionate in return. It bothered
him that others cared, thought it would make him weak if he returned the courtesy.

She knew that because....well she'd been in his shoes not too long ago with her own family.
But Brooklyn had been lucky to have a family that prioritized love and affection above all
else. It had almost felt contagious while being around them, enough so that Brook had no
clue when her mind had decided to put down its walls and embrace them with open arms.

But the sibling thing was tricky. Even Brooklyn with her newfound willingness for affection,
had no clue how to approach her adopted brother either. Harley was grieving, she could not
fight a person or group of villains to make it right, and that was her only skill set.

"Brook! Stop going into dreamland!" Tanya whined, "We're planning serious business here!"

The Stark turned back to her friends, smiling from her place seated between them, facing the
empty rows of seats of the auditorium that spanned far into the darkness.

"I'm not sure how helpful I can be," Brook confessed, "I told you guys that I've never had a
sleepover in my life"

Tanya didn’t hesitate to hug Brooklyn, "That's why we're gonna fix that tonight! Your father
may have grounded you home for whatever reason, but he didn’t say you could not have
others over"

MJ smiled, leaning back on her arms and looking up at the lights above them as she added,
"It will be fun, spending time together without the boys. Even I can’t argue with that"

Just as Tanya began getting excited over all the things they'd be able to talk about and the
food they could make, their teacher came back onto the stage...with another teacher...and his
entire class in tow.

The first pair of familiar eyes she found were Ned's, who eagerly moved to sit beside the
three girls with a puzzled look.

"What on Earth are you doing here?" MJ whispered as all students rushed over to find a seat
on the floor, meeting up with friends and setting the noise levels of the auditorium to an all
time high. Enough racket that Brook was almost distracted from the fact that Michelle was
actually puzzled for once.

Ned eyed the two teachers with worry, "I'm not sure, all I know is we're having class here"

Before any of them could voice their thoughts, it was MJ that pointed out, "We are the only
junior literature classes this time of day. Maybe we're doing a project together to end this
lesson plan?"

Brooklyn barely caught the implications, because her mind was whirling with all the times
Ned had complained of having Damian in his class.

Der'mo. Shit.

Sure enough, as Brook frantically turned back towards the side entrance into the stage, the
Wayne strolled in last, eyeing the ground with disgust as he settled not too far from her. As if
he could sense her, the demon swiftly turned with wide eyes when he beheld her amidst the
rowdy crowd. His green eyes always made her pause lately, probably because they belonged
to someone she hated, but it was almost as if time slowed.

Brook noted the art notebook Damian clutched in hand, the wellness of his shoulder hidden
beneath a black turtleneck, even the slightest raise of his dark eyebrow. For a second, he
wasn’t an enemy she had to look out for, but rather a familiar face amidst a sea of strangers.
A strange comfort. It was the clapping of the teacher that brought the Stark back to the real
world, especially as both literature teachers stood before the mass of students with visibly
excited expressions that couldn’t possibly bode well for them.

"Now now! Settle down!" Mrs. Pettel ordered, clutching her pregnant belly as she turned to
the man beside her, urging him to speak up. The man introduced himself as Mr. Zhao,
someone seemingly as bubbly as Brook's own teacher.

It was his words that almost made Brooklyn burst out the doors as he explained why they
were all gathered for once.

"Instead of doing a simple presentation project this year, we decided to do something a little
more creative to end our Shakespeare journey!" the teacher said, crescent eyes alight with joy
and he added, "This year, we will have a small Romeo and Juliet play together, one for every
two classes!"

Brook’s jaw dropped to the floor, her fists clenching.

That already sounded like torture. But of course Tanya was excited...

"Will we get to choose a character to play!? Will there be costumes!? Makeup?" Tanya asked,
sending the two teachers into a nodding fit that had half the students frowning, and the others
animatedly excited to get started.

Mrs. Pettel beamed at the energy. "Yes to all of the above! Mr. Zhao and I decided that one
class will be the Montagues and the other the Capulets. After a coin toss, we determined that
my class will be the Capulets, and Mr. Zhao's the Montagues. Before any of you dare to
complain, know that everyone must participate, and those with smaller roles will be tasked
with helping with props and lighting to make the work even"

Brook was actually considering forgoing her nonexistent beliefs in a higher power to pray for
a small role, maybe to be a piece of furniture that didn’t need to be under any spotlight. The
media coverage as of late was more than enough as it was, too cumbersome to even consider
humoring something as pathetic as a school play.

But then again, when did Brooklyn ever get what she wanted with ease? She had red all over
her ledger, and it was moments like these when karma loved to remind Brook she had debts
to pay.

Such a downfall began when a random student in the back was the first to speak up amongst
the hushed whispers.

"Since this is Montagues vs Capulets, we should have Brooklyn and Damian be the main
roles since their families have the most famous family rivalry in the past three centuries! It
would be poetic, don't you think?" he suggested shyly.

The auditorium was silent for a second, only to burst into loud cheers and laughter, all in
agreement to the proposition. Brooklyn did her best not to let that dangerous assassin's anger
come out, breathing in and out as she reminded herself killing a student went against her new
beliefs. When she reluctantly met Damian's gaze afterwards, she noticed he too was about
one comment away from leaving.

At least there was another person who found this abhorrent. Even MJ, Ned, and Tanya
couldn't help but join in the cheers for the 'wonderful' proposed idea. Traitors.

The Stark couldn't halt the horrid images in her head of what it would all look like...Brooklyn
dressed as sweet and delicate Juliet in pastels and flowers, forced to behold her greatest
enemy with nothing but love and adoration as he spouted poetry and sweet words her way...

Cherez moy trup. Over my dead body, she thought.

Despite the buzzing conversations around her, Brooklyn stood up, smoothing down her skirt
as she addressed the two teachers. With all the manners she could muster in this fit of rage,
Brook said calmly, "I'm afraid that would not be the best course of action for the class play.
The two characters are supposed to love one another beyond reason and logic, that’s
something I would never be able to portray with that...with the Wayne. I think we should
choose an already established couple instead to get the real visualization of the book"

Brook couldn't help but smirk as she saw the two teachers pondering her argument. She
almost smelled the impending success until some other student, who apparently had a dead
wish, chose to speak up, "Then I will play Brooklyn's Romeo since she obviously hates
Damian so much! Please tell me there will be a kiss scene!"

That quickly and without hesitation, half the guys on stage stood as well, offering themselves
as tributes even when they had been complaining over the stupidity of theater plays not two
minutes ago. The Stark suddenly found herself surrounded by said classmates, all who were
looking at her like she was a piece of meat ripe for the taking. The overwhelming voices and
stares could’ve been stopped by force alone, but in a place where Brooklyn couldn’t exactly
showcase her skills against civilians, she could only stand there and gape at the
ridiculousness of it all.

It wasn’t until Damian swiftly stood up from his spot on the floor that everyone went silent,
even the teachers. Though the girls who had been surrounding him didn’t completely back
away from the sudden movement, the boys in his vicinity did, stumbling away from him even
when Damian had yet to take a step. When he did move, his steps echoed across the stage
eerily like an incoming bad omen, his intense glare enough to send the guys around her
scrambling away in seconds without a word said.

Brook had expected Damian to add to her logic, perhaps arguing that he wouldn’t be caught
dead playing someone as ridiculously blinded by love as Romeo, who in terms of personality
was his exact opposite. But maybe Damian felt this was a unique chance to make her
miserable. Perhaps their joint efforts to try and fight the Joker and their secret walkie-talkie
conversations had been too much fabricated peace between one another to be worth
stomaching without reverting to their old ways...because much to Brook’s surprise, he ended
up arguing against her.

Hands behind his back, the demon turned to her and said, "If you can't handle a simple bit of
acting, then just give the role to someone else instead of using me as an excuse. Perhaps
acting is something only skilled individuals such as myself could accomplish without the
need for previous experience or practice"

Brooklyn’s jaw hit the floor, hands fisting at her sides as her friends tried to pull her back
down to sit between them…to keep her from charging forward, she realized. Their efforts
were in vain, there was so much rage surging through her that Brook easily shrugged their
hands off, practically stomped over to her nemesis, red hair flaring behind her as she sped
walked right into his personal space.

"Are you saying that you could do this better than me, Wayne? Please, don’t make me laugh!
You are as emotionally impaired as they come, how could you possibly fake affection!?"

Damian scoffed loudly, no ounce of his regal posture faltering as he challenged with a raising
of his voice, "As if you could do any better, Stark!"

It was at that moment that both of their eyes went wide with sudden realization. They HAD
both been able to fake affection, both had shown they were capable to act flawlessly enough
to stay hidden from the Joker's goons not too long ago. The memory of that kiss flooded her
senses again, the one she'd been fighting so hard to forget during the long talks or the mere
sight of him around the school’s halls.

This close to him, the near nonexistent space between them was almost a twin to their
proximity of that cursed day. Brook could easily smell Damian's earthy cologne, feel the way
his breath warmed her flushed face, and even though those hands of his were not on her hips,
there was a ghost of a trace there now.
The emerald orbs glaring at her now were too familiar, and though the scales of their alliance
and hatred were teetering both ways as wildly as the frantic beating of her heart, it wasn’t the
confusion of such that had her frozen in place.

That day at the mall, Brooklyn had experienced her first kiss, and it had been...a forbidden act
to say the least. It had been too much and not enough, a free fall and a grounding force. The
reminder of that internal loss of control was enough for both her and Damian to relent back a
step, a slow one at that.

Yet despite their brief faltering, neither of their competitive natures had diminished in the
slightest as some students began to whisper things about neither of them being able to play
the leads with their attitudes. Their words added to the fuel of Damian implying that she was
not skilled enough to play that role? But oh, she'd show him who was better at acting between
the two of them.

Brook was a trained spy after all, she could already taste victory in the air.

"I could most certainly do a way better job than you. In fact, I'll gladly accept the challenge
of being Juliet" she said, turning back to the stunned teachers who only nodded with stifled
laughter kept at bay.

Not a second later, Damian looked like he was gonna burst a vein. Fists clenched, the Wayne
made to stand beside her, staring down their now intimidated teachers once his volatile glare
locked on them.

"I think we all know there is no one in this second rate school that could properly play the
main male role," he scoffed, ignoring the stunned and gaping faces of those around him as he
practically commanded to their superiors, "I will not be some useless extra in this play so that
the Stark can claim to outshine me with the skill required between tiers of roles. That lead
role of Romeo will be of equal standing for us to finally settle who's better. Its mine"

Fine. She'd show him just who he thought he could challenge so callously.

The teachers took one look at Damian’s single raised eyebrow, one daring them to challenge
his decision, and they were practically scrambling to declare those main roles settled. It
wasn’t all fear in their eyes though, there was a mischievous glint behind it, as if they feared
the Stark or Wayne would change their minds and thus scrambled to settle the roles.

It was MJ—Mrs. Pettel's favorite student—who then suggested such a play might not be
proper for today's world, that Juliet's personality was a cliche view of a young woman
helpless at the sight of conflict. A noble argument she supposed.

Then with a vibrant glint in her usually dull eyes, Michelle added, "Perhaps we could add a
modern twist to the classic play, maybe 'switch' the roles?"

That quickly, the teachers and students had all but burst into a frenzy about having Mrs.
Pettel's class representing Montagues, with Brook as their lead role of Romea Montague.
Ned's class would then be the Capulets, with Damian as their very own Julian Capulet.
Brook and Damian could only stand there side by side, gaping at the unforeseen sequence of
events while many were eager to get to work. That sparked creative fever of script correcting
and role assignments lasted until the bell rang, leaving the students with the threat of
rehearsals beginning once the scripts were completely altered to fit this new vision.

By the end of it all, Brooklyn walked out with her three friends in complete disbelief. All her
anger and competitive defensiveness had died down at some point, leaving only confusion
and regret. Such deep and palpable regret she could almost taste it.

"Did I just agree to play a female Romeo?" she asked in disbelief, earning amused nods from
the cluster of friends surrounding her. Amidst her widened eyes and gaping jaw, Brook
could’ve sworn she saw MJ smirking and Tanya holding back laughter.

What the hell she had just done...

Brooklyn could've wormed her way into playing another simpler role like her friends,
something useless and out of the spotlight and no one would have argued. Seeing as the
students had taken creative liberty, she could've been anyone without relevance to the plot,
someone without such a heavy role to portray.

For instance, Tanya would be playing Lord Montague even when she'd gone to the mat trying
to be Mecutio instead. MJ had opted to play Friar Laurence, and Ned would be unfortunate
enough to play Lady Capulet—Damian's 'mother'. Those roles didn’t require showing
affection to an enemy!

Brooklyn almost faltered a step for a second, hands clutching the ends of her hair as she let
out a displeased groan. Shit....she'd agreed to play a romantic interest with Damian Wayne.
That thought alone was enough of a blow that Brook was sure it hurt her pride more than any
physical blow could.

It didn’t help that by the time she and the Wayne made it to History class, the whole school
already knew. In no less than five minutes, her unfortunate fate was known to the entire
student body and no one was making an effort to be discreet when discussing it. Fantastic.

Damian seemed to have realized his mistake by then as well, because neither made eye
contact for the rest of that class. There were no coded notes nor whispered insults between
the day’s boring lesson, only the muffled voices of students around them commenting on the
latest gossip and the thousand ways it could amuse them.

By lunch time, Brooklyn laid her head unceremoniously atop the table, pondering as she had
been for the past few hours as to where it had all gone wrong while the rest of her friends
either tried to comfort her, or shared their own roles with glee.

For the other English classes, the roles hadn’t been reversed in any way as MJ had suggested
for their play, leaving Brook to believe only her play was cursed with madness.

Lunch only served as a reminder that even though every Junior Literature class was doing the
same literary play with another class, it was the first hour play that had everyone talking. At
least Peter sat beside her without the intent of rubbing it in her face, his comforting hand
rubbing circles on her back as he nervously explained his unexpectedly attained role as
Romeo for his own play (all thanks to Flash for wanting to put her best friend in the most
uncomfortable position possible).

At least Flash's role as Tybalt resulted in an unsavory death.

Peter too was in need of comfort at times during their meal, but not because he was forced to
act a romantic role with his nemesis, but rather because he was shy. Ironic considering he was
also the ever popular Spider-man who was known for his flamboyant personality.

In fact, that very fact seemed to add onto her internal annoyances. Brooklyn couldn't help but
be a little peeved that Peter would have to pretend to be in love with Cindy Moon, even when
the Stark was on good terms with her because of the Decathlon team. Pete was a loving guy,
sweet as candy and kinder than anyone else...which led her to believe he'd play the role of an
unwavering lover perfectly, even if it sent Brooklyn green with displeasure.

If Brook didn't have something to prove, she might've called her dad so he could cancel the
arrangement entirely. Surely Tony would be as disgusted as she was at the thought of her
playing the lover of a Wayne, enough so that his influence and reputation could’ve gotten the
school to reconsider the whole thing. Yet Brooklyn couldn’t accept defeat so easily, not with
so much on the line.

She supposed that it was a good thing most people at the table were happy with their roles.
Not everyone was miserable like her. Harry had been boasting over his role as Mercutio for
nearly ten minutes straight, sending Tanya into a fit of longing for his role. On the other side
of the table, Jon was loudly announcing his role as Friar Laurence with pride while Damian
looked as miserable as she felt by his side.

"Relax, Brook," Tanya said from across the table, reaching out a comforting hand as she
added, "it's only a thirty minute play, not a Broadway show with critics and multiple
showings"

Brooklyn propped her head up at that comment, scowling.

"How would you feel if you had to play a romantic interest with Harry for thirty minutes?"

A disgusted gag was her only reply, as well as a baby carrot to the face for even suggesting
such a thing.

"Fair. But this is for a grade, Brooklyn!" Tanya argued, "If you want to be valedictorian then
you need a good grade for this project. Besides, at least you're stuck playing a love interest
with the hottest guy in school, possibly all of Queens...after Spider-man of course"

Harry looked as if he might pass out at the offense of not owning the title of the hottest guy in
school. Meanwhile, both Brook and Peter began to cough on nothing but their own
embarrassment at the mention of Spider-man holding that position. Pete because he WAS
said hero being addressed as the hottest being in the city, Brooklyn because she was attracted
to her best friend enough to not disagree entirely with Tanya.

Laying her head back on the table, the troubled teen tried to work around her stupidity.
Brook, for all her emotional growth these past few weeks, could not resist the element of
competitiveness when it came to her nemesis. An internal flaw she didn’t yet have the cure
for. They were evenly matched in many things, far too alike in most areas of their past, so
much so that Brook was desperate to prove she was better even in the smallest things.
Brooklyn knew for a fact that Damian felt the same. He too was trained to settle for nothing
short of being the best, only that drive and ego had backfired on them today. They’d set
themselves up for this mess, and one couldn’t be blamed without the other.

This play had completely ruined her mood, enough so that she and the demon hadn’t tried to
destroy one another during P.E. earlier in the day, and Jon's smirks and encouragement on her
new role had almost made her thrust a calculus book at his face while in math class.

But she wasn't too far gone into her selfish sorrows, not as the small monitors across the
lunch hall turned to something other than the usual boring school news. Her decathlon
classmate Betty popped up on the screens with a worried glance.

"Hello Midtown Science and Technology, I have troubling news from Harrow Street not too
far from us. A group of robbers have entered a city bank, taking a few hostages. The police
force is too far away dealing with an automobile crime across the city and there is still no
sign of Spider-man..."

The words were enough for Brook and Peter to push their childish grievances aside, glancing
at one another with a private smile. When they turned to face the other side of the lunch table,
Brooklyn noticed Jon was already shooting an unseen smile their way while Damian just
nodded in recognition.

Beside Peter, Ned subtly took out his phone, placing a small com device in his ear. Their Guy
In The Chair ready to assist as well as to protect their cover.

"Oh, Pete!" Brooklyn said suddenly, gaining the attention from those at their table, "We
forgot to talk to Maestra Diaz about last night’s homework. If we don’t go now, we’ll have to
turn it in as it is"

Peter did his best to look troubled, but was already gathering his things and telling their
friends that he and Brook could go alone to settle their homework debate without any
additional companionship. No one thought much of it, not as the crazy news of a crime in
Queens was still present on TV. When Jon made a subtle comment about realizing he too
needed to 'speak with the teacher', no one was shocked to see Damian follow.

At school, the four of them kept from being seen together...well mostly. Lately, whenever
instances like these would arise, the four often found themselves out of class at the same time
without anyone being wise enough to realize it.

Once their unjust parental punishments had begun, the four of them had been quick to agree
that sitting around doing nothing to stop the Joker was just not gonna happen. In the
meantime, if their parents wouldn't let them go on the big missions, then they would at least
keep Queens safe from any crime they stumbled upon. It didn’t help that the authorities knew
to call the Avengers if things got too bad because they’d been told the heroes had taken
Spider-man on a bigger mission out of the country, a clear message that the Avengers didn’t
want Peter involved in anything.

With the eyes of those they loved still honed on them, the four teens had been forced to....take
a more discrete approach with crimes like these.

As soon as they rushed out of the mess hall and into the empty hallways, the four teens
practically ran full speed down to the first floor. Having done this about six times in the past
few weeks, they all waited for Peter to lift the full row of lockers with ease despite the
unimaginable weight of it all, each grabbing the bundle containing their costume and
weapons from within.

By the time they made it to the main gates, the four snuck around towards the forested area to
remain unnoticed. Once Peter lifted her over the school gate and Jon flew Damian over it,
they quickly set out to a nearby alley and changed.

The boys —as always— were very courteous, turning around to give her some semblance of
privacy even when they were all in a rush to get changed. Brook had no shame when it came
to bodies whatsoever due to her upbringing, but it was a good thing they never bothered
looking since having to explain the scars on her body to Peter and Jon was not something she
wanted to do. Ever.

Since Spider-man, Robin, and Superboy were grounded, the three guys had to forego their
usual suits for an ensemble of subtle noir shades like Brooklyn. With masks on and hoods up,
the four looked unrecognizable, and to their parents, they are just a group of people who had
stepped up to do hero work when Spider-man was unable to do so.

To Queens, they were just a group of humans trying to do the right thing.

Once the com devices were on and Brooklyn had sharpened her daggers against one another,
the group set off into the sky with the sun blazing around them and the sound of chaos in the
distance.

Damian POV-

From their place up on the rafters of the bank, Damian could spot eight masked individuals,
all holding guns aimed at the hostages by the main vault. The civilians had explosives of
some sort attached to their bodies, something he and his three companions had not dealt with
as of yet.

The sight of such explosives could only mean one thing, this heist had been planned for quite
some time then.

Beside him, the Stark was eyeing the situation down below with a subtle frown. This was
more complicated than their usual dealings with normal thieves and thugs. She knew just as
he did that one wrong move on their part and those civilians would die with the press of a
button. Perhaps the chain explosion would be enough for the teens to end up dead as well,
and maybe even Jon's slowly developing immunity to injuries would not save him either.
High stakes missions, they were always the ones Damian enjoyed the most.

Before Parker could suggest yet another plan based on a movie that aired before their years
walking on this Earth, Damian whispered to the group, "We'll have a much better chance of
saving those people if we attack the leader with the remote. We seize it, then we can pursue
the others freely"

Brooklyn shrugged, "They still have too many guns that could harm civilians, and we can't be
sure someone else doesn't have a backup remote"

Damian hated to agree with her, but she was right. That didn’t mean he voiced his agreement.

"I've been working on my wind gusts recently, I can probably blow them out of the building"
Jon announced, looking more like Damian's father with those concealing dark clothes and a
black cape none of the teens had. Kent was the only one who had to worry about
aerodynamics after all.

The Stark's smirk was visible only when she locked eyes with Damian for confirmation, and
it was with little doubt that he knew they had formulated the same plan as they often did
without the need for words. The two nodded, and with that, they got to work.

"Ned, how far are the authorities?" Brooklyn asked through her com device, Leeds reply
coming in seconds later with a frantic, "Ten minutes. Lunch ends in fifteen"

Damian got his grappling hook gun ready just as Parker stretched out his arm beside him.
Brooklyn had moved by Jon's side, clutching his neck as she got ready for descent.

The Wayne had no idea what overcame him, but seeing his nemesis clutching tightly to Jon,
it made him...uneasy. Perhaps he was worried they'd mess up their part of the plan, but in all
the times the four of them had gone out to do secret hero work, no one had ever made a
mistake that would warrant such worry.

It had been that same feeling that had been following Damian like a shadow since yesterday.
Now that he thought better of it, such an emotion had begun when he saw Brooklyn on TV,
an unexpected occurrence on his way to get some water from the kitchen. Then he'd seen
Stephanie reading a magazine with the Stark on the cover, Alfred praising the enemy as the
teen's interview played on the large TV in the living room where Drake and Todd were
paying attention in silence.

Damian had seen her smile with the various interviewers, laughing with them in a way that
he knew was not entirely genuine. He'd assumed the mere sight of Brooklyn Stark was
enough to make his blood boil, to warrant such a shift in his previous peace, especially when
the country seemingly grew fonder of her through these publicity stunts.

But now? There were no cameras, only a mission.

Brushing the confusion stirring in his mind and clenching his fists, Damian looked away
from the two, firing his hook at the same beam Parker took aim with his own webs. As soon
as they hit their marks, Jon and Brooklyn descended in the middle of where the criminals
stood.

In seconds, Brooklyn was thrown by Jon towards the masked man who held the detonator,
clutching his hand in place as she tackled him behind a desk. As soon as she was fully
covered by the wooden structure, Damian and Parker swung down as quickly as they could.

As they got closer to the hostages, Parker shot out a small web towards Damian, which he
caught with ease. Obviously. With their momentum increasing, Parker was able to shoot out a
pattern of webs that ended up working as a sort of net for the ten or so civilians, and with
their joint strength, they were able to sweep them all into the air just as Jon began to blow.

His wind capacity HAD improved from the meager summer breezes they’d once been,
building up slowly from papers sent flying and small desk objects stirring wildly as he and
Parker situated the panicking civilians up in the rafters, placing seatbelt like webs on them so
they wouldn’t fall to their doom as Damian set to work on inspecting the bombs.

Only one remote was needed to control them seeing as each had a singular little panel
activated. Meaning their jobs just got a whole lot easier and there was no need for him to go
hunting for the other stray remotes.

When the booming sound of wind currents trapped in a small space became loud enough to
indicate storm level currents, Damian snuck a glance down below to see the masked men
being pressed up against the wall and Brooklyn still safely tucked in behind a nearby desk
where she was yelling and punching the criminal in the face, careful of the grip on the
remote.

From his shadowed perch, Damian had a front row seat to his enemy’s methods of
interrogation, his gaze unable to leave her form even as the hostages cried and screamed
behind him. Words were exchanged after a few nasty punches, and whatever was said was
enough for the robber to begin to sob uncontrollably…even Damian couldn’t shake off the
feeling of approval coursing through his veins despite Brooklyn’s unsavory bloodline.

After frantically pressing a few buttons on the remote now in her blood-less hands, the red
lights on the explosive vests on the civilians behind him turned off without any threat of
detonation. Shooting a quick signal down below to Brooklyn, Damian utilized his katana to
slice off the explosive vests as quickly as possible as Parker did his best to soothe each freed
individual. Damian didn’t bother with useless blabbering as the victims sobbed their thanks
his way once they realized he wasn’t about to stab them to death, he just took off each vest
methodically and handed them over for ‘proper comfort’ and to be webbed to an adjacent
wall down below.

His father and ‘siblings’ always went on about Damian needing to improve his public image
with civilians, an endeavor he’d always found rather useless seeing as most shook in fear at
the mere sight of his katanas and the legacy of the symbol normally branded onto his chest.
Damian found the fear was as useful a tool as any weapon he could wield, that by leeching
off some of the own terrifying reputation his own father had built as Batman, conflicts tended
to be solved with less trouble. Plus, he’d spent most of his youth being feared, it was a
metaphorical blanket of comfort by now that had only started to waver as of late.
Of course Richard and Brown heavily disagreed with such methods of wielding fear for one’s
benefit, but seeing as Damian was making an effort to work with others, he figured letting
Parker assume such responsibilities wasn’t much to ask for.

It was as his job discarding the explosives was taken care of that the winds below stopped,
Jon and Brooklyn setting off to deal with the masked cronies still pressed into the wall with
blown back hair and the scent of their fear in the air. As the Wayne descended behind his
allies with the aid of his grappling hook, he watched as Brooklyn easily knocked out the men
while Jon carefully tied them up with some lane ropes.

Unlike the two ex-assassins, Jon Kent had never been the kind to resort to violence.

When those idiots were finally tied up, Damian took the unconscious form of the criminal
who'd held the explosive remote, dragging him over to his companions to share in the same
fate. In what had to have been the span of a few minutes, the criminals had been stopped,
money still untouched inside the broken safe, and with Peter bringing down the last of the
civilians from up above, Jon and Brooklyn positioned their webbed forms gently on scattered
chairs as if the extra comfort would make a difference.

Once everything was done and over with, Leeds quietly whispered into the coms, "Cops are
around the corner. Lunch ends in five"

As one, the four veiled teens ran over to the back exit Leeds had pointed out as Parker
dissolved his webs on the way to keep evidence of the Spider-man being there a secret.

Per usual, it was apparent that saving their insignificant lives was never enough for the
victims. Some shouted after them, begging to know their names for a proper thank you as
much as to quell their curiosities. None of them obliged, holding their secret identities close
to their hearts and far away from their mouths.

By them time Jon and Parker had gotten them back to the alley undetected, they had just
enough time to quickly change out of their disguises and rush back to the school, all too
worried about being caught to say a thing until their suits were back under the lockers and the
four of them stood in that empty academia hall as if they'd never left.

Jon and Parker were the first to relax, exchanging an enthusiastic high-five while praising
everyone's performance as they did so. A common occurrence Damian was learning to live
with.

"That was amazing! By far our fastest work!" Jon said enthusiastically, holding his hand
Damian's way in the hopes of a high-five from him, which the Wayne obviously ignored.
When that same hand was extended to Brooklyn, she sighed in defeat, but ultimately did end
up returning the advance.

Damian frowned at their joint palms but said nothing on the matter.

"Our team work is definitely getting better!" Parker pointed out, hesitantly reaching out for
Brooklyn's bloody hand to clean with the inside of his jacket. The Stark, so at ease with her
friend, let him do so with no complaint but rather a small thank you as she fixed the lapels of
her skirt. Damian recalled that the blood originated from the bleeding nose of the masked
criminal, not her own. Her knuckles were still reddened by the punches, but it was mostly
unnoticeable and likely a non-existent ache after a childhood of violence. Still, the sight did
nothing to quell that unnatural speeding of his heart that stupidly worried the blood remained
her own, likely because having an injured ‘battle ally’ was nothing but cumbersome.

As if sensing his stare, Brooklyn suddenly looked towards him. Damian froze at the sight of
those brown eyes, the ones he despised yet reluctantly admired at times. Within them,
Damian wagered she seemed content, no doubt because of another successful mission under
their belt. Even Damian couldn't deny the satisfaction of knowing it had all gone according to
plan.

Beside him, Jon was jumping around in place, shooting his fists up the air.

"Another victory for the Teen Avengers!" he said. Both Damian and Brooklyn frowned,
quickly reminded him that was not their name. The Wayne considering the other three teens
something akin to reluctant teammates was already hard enough as it was without a group
name thrown into the mix as if to make the forbidden truce more official.

Their series of joint missions were not a matter of meaningful substance by any means. It was
merely a series of random chaotic phenomena rather than a solid alliance in his eyes.
Murphy’s Law at work and nothing more. Anything more than that and it would imply he
actually found the Stark worthy of his time and trusted with his life, which was not only
forbidden but also impossible.

Parker was as always, oblivious to Damian’s distaste. He rushed over to encourage Jon's
ridiculous behavior by suggesting other group names as they made their way down the hall
back to the cafeteria undisturbed. The two ex-assassins following behind the excited pair, still
riding the waves of euphoria and adrenaline from the fight that always did take more time to
vanish for the pair.

In an unexpected series of events, Brooklyn didn’t rush over to join Parker’s side, but instead
walked by Damian's side as she checked her cell phone, confirming to the Wayne that she
didn’t have any suspicious texts from her family about their forbidden outing. One quick
check of his own phone confirmed he was not discovered either.

Perhaps it was the familiar sights of the school’s mundane decorations and student-made
event posters that brought back the cursed memories of that morning’s Literature class, of
what he had so foolishly agreed to do with the Stark. It seemed she recalled it as well,
because she suddenly whispered by his side, "This play we have to do is ridiculous"

Hands behind his back, Damian hummed in agreement, already dreading what the final script
would look like and what he'd be forced to say and do for the sake of proving his superiority.

"I've been hearing many rumors since class ended," Brook added, "People are convinced we
won't be able to pull this off, I'm sure I even heard someone say we'd get a failing grade by
the end of it all. Too many are betting on it"
Damian would like to think he had gotten better at honing his anger when it came to foolish
things involving mere civilians, but when he began to see red, there was no stopping the
sense to defeat those that questioned his skills. How could a bunch of nobodies think that
Damian was incapable of doing something as pathetic as acting? He had just stopped a bank
robbery with the ease only achieved by the handful of adults these students considered heroes
for crying out loud.

"It's just Shakespeare, a ridiculous lovesick story with little logic or outstanding plot
arrangements," Damian pointed out, carelessly fixing the collar of his flannel as they made
their way up the winding stairs. Thankfully the halls were still empty, everyone still inside the
cafeteria finishing their meals none the wiser to the odd sight of two enemies walking side by
side. He didn’t wish for any additional rumors to take form after all.

Both teens stopped at the landing between the winding stairs when he noticed the Stark was
placing her bag down on the polished floor, Jon and Peter continuing their ascension without
a single glance back. She scoffed at Damian’s silent judgment, raising her hands not in
surrender, but rather to motion towards him…stopping just before they reached his body. To
say Damian was a little puzzled at first was an understatement, his mind was trying to sort
through hundreds of violent scenarios that would explain why she was asking permission to
touch him.

To his bewilderment, the touch was not meant for harm, Damian realized it had to do with
fixing his clothes. The simple and natural kind act had happened once before, when they'd
been at her home. Even Damian, a person who disliked physical contact above all else, had
not been overrun by panic and mistrust when Brooklyn had reached out then...and with that
in mind, he merely shot Brooklyn an exasperated sigh but nodded silently so as to let go
ahead.

Her brown eyes widened for a brief second, then those small and slightly reddened hands
reached out to fix the collar of the flannel and the lapels of his sweater above it that had been
put on with too much haste earlier.

Though her skin never made contact with his own, his chest still contracted, and the pesky
life-inducing organ inside his chest began to pick up a few beats, enough that he could
practically feel his whole body shaking from it. It was a touch similar to that she’d exchanged
with Parker and Jon earlier, only this time it was her that instigated the contact, something he
didn’t see her doing often with those she shared her time with at school.

"Poor Damian Wayne can't even fix his clothes properly. Maybe people are right in thinking
you won't be able to pull off the play," Stark teased with that rouge smile of hers, delicate
fingers lingering on the edges of the collar so close to his neck.

At the familiar mockery, Damian reached out to fix the collar of her own shirt, which was
slightly lopsided beneath the curls of her long hair. Brooklyn halted the traveling touch on his
attire then, but didn’t back away in disgust as he helped get rid of the evidence of their
sudden vigilante work.

All the while he couldn’t help but wonder when had it become so casual to touch another
human being. Couldn’t help but question why it was that he found himself in another being’s
personal space without feeling the usual crawling discomfort or the urge to flinch away at the
warmth emanating from her body to her clothes.

It was Brooklyn of all people that Damian should be pushing back to the other side of the
world, but with every crumb of information he'd learned about her recently, the Wayne had
become even more certain that she would not try and kill him, even with their family
complications between them.

Brooklyn Stark was just like him after all, a fact he despised more than anything else.

Just as he finished straightening her golden necklace into place, Damian quickly scolded
himself for doing something gracious for his enemy after refusing to utilize even a tenth of
that unusual kindness for the cowering civilians earlier. Refusing to let his touch linger there
for a moment longer, he quickly pivoted to climb up the next set of stairs to catch up to the
others without a word on what he'd done.

Instead, he offered casually over his shoulder, "These pathetic nobodies at school need to be
reminded that I am better than them in every aspect, a sentiment you no doubt mirror. We are
not common peasants as they are, we were made to be stronger and far more perfectly refined
in every way. Once they behold that with something as simple as this play that their minds
can wrap around, order will be restored in this wretched place"

Climbing up beside him with the discarded bag hanging between them, she indulged a rare
chuckle for once not full of laced malice or hatred. A gentle sound he recalled from their
escape to the safe house, something genuine and far beyond any kind of amiability enemies
such as themselves should share.

"I suppose that we've been in worse situations together for the sake of survival. At least I
know you are capable of keeping up with me, even if it's for some stupid play.
Besides...you're okay, for a Wayne I suppose... I guess I could be stuck with someone worse
for this play"

Damian couldn't help but show one of his rare smirks at the admission his shorter enemy
suddenly looked baffled at revealing. It was unexpected, puzzling, but still the Wayne elected
to keep it at arms length. Eyes roaming the determined harshness of her eyes, the soft color
blooming across her cheeks, he couldn’t help but hold on to the odd sight and the weighted
words despite his better judgment.

Damian knew full well that earning the respect of an enemy was worth more recognition than
that of an obedient sheep.

"Hmm," he replied, unsure exactly what to say that wouldn’t sound out of place as her own
slip of the tongue had.

"You can say it too, you know", Brooklyn said, hand running along the railing of their ascent,
gaze away from him and towards the dirty wall that was most certainly not of any notable
interest.

He paused, halting her steps as he asked, "Say what?"

Eyes back on him, the girl smirked as she said slowly, enunciating every sizable of the words,
"That. I'm. Okay...for a Stark at least"

In some way, Damian realized that between her and Anthony Stark—or any of the other odd
members of her hero-filled family— she was not the worst. He certainly would never agree to
work with any other Stark or Avenger willingly, Parker was already a very bothersome
exception only allowed because Jon seemed to think he was a decent companion.

Damian found he didn't completely despise their talks in person or via walkie-talkie, at least
until the Stark decided to get playful and try to rile him up with insults. Brooklyn Stark was a
more than decent fighter, her moral compass seemed to be pointing the right way recently,
and they had made it out of a lot of unfortunate and unsavory circumstances together.

Emotions mattered very little to Damian, he often didn’t allow himself to feel very many, or
was perhaps incapable in some ways to grow fond of people easily. But he respected
Brooklyn to some extent against his personal wishes, and that meant more than he felt
comfortable with admitting.

Shaking his head while still smirking, Damian replied flatly, "You'll have a hard time getting
any Wayne to admit that about a Stark. But I can say you're decent for a flamboyant girl
with...rare moments of radiance."

"Hold on!" Brooklyn said, eyes alight with myth and mischief as she leaned on the wall
facing him fully, "Did you just say radiance? You actually think I'm radiant?"

Damian cursed himself for the word use, unsure if any insult he could conjure would be
enough to negate the effect of that world alone. Silently, Damian turned and elected to keep
going up the steps in an effort to flee from the words he'd muttered. But he knew Brooklyn
enough that she would never let it go, quickly proven by her next course of action.

Turning her gaze skyward at his silence, Brook yelled with a smile that wasn’t entirely false,
"You hear that, world? Damian Wayne says I'm radiant!"

To his relief and mortification, the bell rang across the halls then. Despite being released from
the embarrassment, Damian had to shush her with a glare before parting ways lest someone
finds them in the same place at the same time, or in case anyone could see the invisible words
the two had just exchanged.

Despite the loud ringing around him, all Damian could hear was her faint sound of her
melodic laughter before the halls filled with masses of students already gossiping on the
events that transpired in the bank. No one around him had a single clue as to who had been
responsible for the heroic outcome, their gazes full of awe and fear as they paved a way for
him to pass undisturbed.

School had gone by slowly afterwards, and by the time he'd made his way towards the art
room, Damian was so lost in his thoughts and blocking out the gossip around him that he
almost failed to note the small folded paper placed in his hand.
Looking round the disgusting sea of people, Damian was barely able to identify streaks of
auburn hair walking away from him. She was masked by the heavy traffic enough that he
only caught sight of a red-lipped smile before Brooklyn disappeared around a nearby corner.
Almost like an immovable rock between a moving current, Damian stood there for a few
seconds before closing his fist around the note, hands in his pocket as he leisurely made his
way towards his after school activity with a little more urgency than before.

Once in the stool before a tauntingly blank canvas, Damian opened the inconspicuous letter,
which was in assassin code as expected. As always, the beginning was always a blend of
teasing remarks and blooming annoyance;

My 'Cherished' Inevitable Downfall,

Today was an unfortunate day despite our victory shining a light on the misfortune, but after
much reflection, I have come to realize I actually agree with you. For the sake of our family
names, we must be the best during this ridiculous play no matter the cost.

During Chemistry, I heard that Flash is betting two hundred dollars that we will inevitably
walk off the stage or refuse to go through with the emotional scenes of the play. I for one
would love to see him lose that much money as well as suffer the embarrassment of being
proven wrong.

What do you say? Would you find it in you to agree to a temporary alliance outside the
battlefield once more?

Damian had pondered on the letter’s contents as he painted, mulling over his enemy’s words
and the cluster of annoying whispers and bets the other students in the art club were making
about his Shakespearian academic downfall as if he weren't in the room.

Deciding enough was enough, the Wayne turned in his latest masterpiece once the hour was
over, which just so happened to be a litter of cats like the ones he and the harl-…Selina Kyle
had been caring for since yesterday. Another product of Brooklyn's annoying influence.
Damian ignored the way the center cat's feline eyes seemed to be the same chocolate brown
shade as a certain Stark. Instead of staying for praise on his artistry or personally questioning
his final result further, he rushed out into the hall and scribbled down something as quickly as
he could.

Making his way out to the front of the school, it wasn’t difficult to spot who he was looking
for. Brooklyn stood at the front gates with Leeds, Jones, and Parker. They had likely just
come out of Decathlon practice, and Damian knew for a fact Leeds and Jones would wait for
Osborn and Bennet's separate practices to end.

Brooklyn and the spider boy would head home together, that black Audi likely already
waiting for them outside the gates just as Alfred's car was certainly parked not too far waiting
for him and Jon.

Ignoring the array of players on the football field that parted to let him pass, Damian stopped
by the main gates, making it look like he was merely waiting for Jon to catch up from
bidding farewell to his football companions. The Stark's friends were too busy gazing at the
 unrelenting coldness of his eyes to notice the small note he skillfully slipped into the no
longer reddened hands of the Stark by his side.

After the brief touch of their fingers between paper, both ex-assassins made their way to
opposite ends of the street towards their respective waiting vehicles. While Jon was boasting
about some skillful catch on the field during practice, Damian was able to lock eyes with
Brooklyn as they both stood before their respective open doors.

She'd clearly read the letter with the same skillful secrecy he’d used to slip the paper to her,
because the Stark shot him a subtle determined nod, the only assurance they needed.
Exchange unseen by their respective parties, both made their way inside the tinted cars, each
driving the opposite way back to their homes.

Despite Alfred's usual questions on the happenings of their school day, the Wayne let Jon
recount boring events as he sat silently with his gaze out the window. He couldn’t help but to
think back of what he'd written earlier, the devil’s bargain he’d struck that felt as if it had
sealed his fate in some meaningful way.

My 'Adored' Archenemy,

I can't wait to see the faces of those that doubted us when we destroy their misplaced
expectations. There is no other choice but to band forces once more...but know that across the
deepest parts of my soul, I still despise you. Since I’m sure you feel something akin to my own
hatred, make sure your acting is exceptional. I will accept nothing less.

We will talk tonight.

Sure enough, once homework was done, training at the bat cave finished, and all his siblings
had gone out on patrols or on missions, Damian spent the better part of his night exchanging
casual complaints with Brooklyn over the absurdity of the play’s changes.

Neither of them were happy with the arrangement, and with Titus barking fondly at the
walkie-talkie when he heard Brooklyn speak almost as if he too wished to speak with her,
Damian decided that none of today’s events made any sense. Fighting beside a Stark, playing
a romantic interest with her for a school play, having his own pet bound by some misplaced
infatuation with that same person…the world really had become a tangled mess of oddities
even Damian wasn’t sure how to evade or deal with.

Hours later, Damian went into a restless sleep that night. He dreamt of a familiar mall, a
battered blue jeep, and a stupid kiss that his mind recalled in too vivid a detail.

Maddening times, indeed.

Chapter End Notes

I know what you're thinking! I swear this won't be a cringy school play just for the sake
of having Romeo and Juliet emotional tension. This is very important for character
growth reasons, I promise!!!!

Well for that and for some other reasons as well...

 Time with Guests
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Ok. The Notebook hadn't been that bad.

Tonight was officially Brook's first 'Sleep Over' with the girls, and so far it had been quite the
pleasant experience. They had been right when they said being without the boys would be
fun, it was a different sort of ambiance that Brooklyn found she enjoyed.

Of course the boys were two doors down having their own sleep over at Peter's to keep him
company as well. All their friends knew Peter, Brook, Jon, and Damian had been grounded
but none of the reasons why had been linked together to one event.

Everyone thought Brook was grounded because she used Grandpa Steve's shield as a sled
down the hills of the compound. Peter was said to be grounded for forgetting to help Aunt
May with the groceries, and Jon for a similar reason with his dad. No one at school had dared
ask why Damian had been grounded, but the only evidence of such a thing was the fact that
he was dropped off and picked up at school.

Brooklyn hated lying to her friends these past few days, not just about her punishment
reasons, but also because of the secret hero/vigilante work like what happened at the bank
during lunch.

But this was for their own good, and the best Brook could do to make up for it was host this
sleepover.

She was a little nervous at first to say the least. She'd never properly hung out with friends
like this, but after having Damian stay over at her loft once, she'd been much more willing to
have others over.

So far, Tanya had proclaimed they all needed to be in their pjs (after trying on the thousand
items of clothing Tanya bought for a little modeling show).

A little cozy set up had been made in the living room with blankets and pillows like a nest of
sorts. It was from there that the girls had watched Tanya's favorite sleepover picks that the
boys could not complain about.

Frozen had been interesting, and it had made Brooklyn wonder if all mutants started out as
Elsa, afraid of their powers. Having encountered many enhanced humans so far in her life,
Brook wouldn't be surprised if that fear was what led them to dark paths like working for the
Joker.

The next movie had been something for them to 'celebrate their being single'.
The notebook had sent Tanya into a fit of tears on more than one occasion, while MJ spent
most of the time whispering the differences between it and its original literature work of art.

To Brook, the movie had been emotional at times yes, but the girl found herself annoyed at
the main characters. As someone who would have a difficult time finding someone to love
due to fame, her assassin past, and her heroic future, Brook couldn't help but be annoyed that
those two would let such stupid things get in the way of their emotions.

Maybe Damian had been right about everyone being different than them, not in the
superiority aspect, but that life must look very different to people like MJ and Tanya who did
not have to worry about murderous clowns or the overall darkness of the world.

It was nice to feel like that now, just a teenage girl hanging out with her friends, now
surrounded by snacks and blasting music to their hearts content. For now, she was not THE
Brooklyn Stark, but just a friend, and it felt really nice.

"Ok, since the boys aren't here now we can talk about the good stuff" Tanya said, rubbing her
hands together as she eyed Brook and MJ excitedly.

Brooklyn had enough sense to feel worried, clutching her blanket close.

"First order of business, who was your first kiss?" Tanya asked, squealing in excitement as
she leaned back on the couch, satisfied to see both girls flush.

When neither spoke up, Tanya said, "Well, my first kiss was Zachary Lester in seventh grade"

Brooklyn's eyes went wide when she realized why that name sounded familiar.

"The one from the football team!?" she asked, earning and from her proud friend

Zachary was one of Harry's friends, one who was kind to Peter despite being friends with
Flash as well. He was nothing out of the ordinary, Brook didn't have overly good or bad
opinions on him. But the mention of said boy made the Stark realize that many of the people
at school knew one another since childhood, a fact that seemed almost inconceivable for
someone who had no one left of her youth.

"Why did you two kiss?" MJ asked, fixing two buns of curly hair in place atop her head.

Tanya always beamed at MJ's attention, tonight was no different as she set into a long tale of
days in a playground and a stolen kiss outside the school gates after weeks of childish
flirtatious comments.

"His lips were so chapped! But he gave me a sailor moon pen afterwards so that was nice"
Tanya said, sending all three girls into comfortable laughter. Seeing MJ not only smiling but
laughing had been a rare treat already, one Brook knew Tanya was already gushing about.

A freshly manicured finger pointed at MJ next, demanding to tell her tale.

Michelle was usually a very reserved person, and Brook had never had any issues with that
considering her own closet of secrets. But MJ seemed comfortable enough to say in a bored
tone, "My first kiss was in fifth grade, to Ankur Ahmad"

Tanya stood up on the couch, hands over her mouth as she shouted, "Ankur from math
class?"

Oh, him!

Ankur was well known for his incredible fashion sense at school, he always wore something
to honor his Iraqi background which made his outfits all the more noticeable to everyone. He
was in Brook's engineering class, and seemed confident yet kind all the time, most girls
swooned around him though.

"It was during the halloween parade at school" MJ confessed, "My mom had me dress up as a
fairy, with glitter on my cheeks and lips. He thought it looked really cool so he asked to kiss
me to get some glitter on his own lips"

Tanya clutched onto MJ's arm.

"Now that is adorable!"

Brooklyn laughed along with the girls, happy to know they had such interesting and beautiful
childhoods. At least until those expectant eyes turned on her.

She was about to confidently admit she'd never been kissed in her life when she recalled the
smooth hands on her hips, the smell of cologne and mint, and the softest lips against her own
in a battle for survival.

That quickly, Brooklyn's cheeks seemed to heat up, and she began debating the merits of
lying when Tanya said, "Common! Spill it! I know that face, you have kissed someone! I feel
bad for all those fanboys of yours, how devastated will they be!"

Let them be devastated, Brooklyn was too busy realizing that Damian Wayne HAD been her
first kiss, something important enough to warrant girl talk for.

Hiding behind the comforts of her blanket like coward, Brook said, "WhAt? yOu tHinK I
KiSsed sOmEoNe?" cringing at her awful lying skills over such a simple an unimportant
matter.

If Damian were here and heard that tone, he'd think their chances of pulling off the play were
over.

Both girls instantly moved closer, smiles on their faces as they begged to know more,
wondering if it was someone at school who had done it.

"It was not a big deal, just a kiss at the mall....a need of the moment sort of thing" Brooklyn
confessed vaguely, but it was enough to send both girls tumbling back into the blanket
covered floor with a fits of laughter.

Tanya yelled, "For a moment I was afraid you'd say you and Harry kissed one another as kids
during a rich people event or something, but this is way better!"
Harry was definitely not someone Brook would ever think of kissing, he was a friend. Then
again, she'd never imagined kissing Damian either.

It was MJ who recovered first, asking softly, "Why? Does Brook have a crush on Harry?"

Both Brook and Tanya instantly began to gag in disgust.

It was the brunette that managed to stray the point from kisses to crushes in that instant,
which was ridiculous considering her crush was standing beside her.

But MJ was still questioned on the truth both Tanya and Brook already knew.

"I don't like someone a lot, only a little" MJ said, red blush across her tan skin contradicting
her own words, "He's a looser and an idiot, but he's special"

Tanya's spirt seemed to dim then, but she still replied confidently, "Well, whoever he is, he'd
be very lucky to have you"

MJ seemed genuinely pleased with the comment, and thankfully that is where all talk of
crushes ended.

Tanya and Ned knew Brook had a thing for Peter, that he and MJ were dancing in circles
around one another's feelings, and that Tanya was infatuated over MJ. It was a mess in
Brooklyn's head, but at least she'd been able to keep her secret quiet, especially when
Michelle was clearly the better smarter choice for Peter to like and date.

After dancing around the living room to more music, Tanya had found the car manuals Brook
had been reading for her driving lessons with Happy.

When she confessed to her driving failure, Tanya nearly lost it.

"How could you mess up driving so much?" her friend asked, laying on couch as she flipped
through the heavy Audi manual.

The question made Brooklyn remember that day at the compound like it was yesterday.

Happy was already sweating in fear, but he seemed to have realized a bit of theory was
needed before Brook tried to move the car again.

"So let's just say you are driving down this road" he said, "then Wanda and Sam get in the
way, quickly, what do you hit?"

Without hesitation Brooklyn said back with a smile, "Oh, definitely Sam, I don't think I could
ever hurt Wanda"

Happy hit her head with a newspaper, "The brakes! You hit the brakes!"

Some time later during lunch with the rest of the Avengers, Happy was complaining to the
group, and it was Wanda who came to Brook's defense since she couldn't drive either.
"I do wonder what happens if you hit the brake and the accelerator at the same time?" she
mused over a slice of toast.

When no one at the table had an answer, Brooklyn had set down her glass of water and
replied smugly just to piss off Happy, "The car takes a screenshot"

Aaaand that was how Brooklyn ended up getting banned from practicing with Happy's car.

The girls had laughed about that for a while, running around the room freely singing to the
Spice Girls, eating enough sweets and goodies to make their insides hut, and Tanya and MJ
had shared a few embarrassing stories of their own as well.

It was then that Brooklyn realized being a teenager was not so bad, it was thrilling to
just....be.

At around ten, It seemed that the feeling of teenage freedom had transferred onto the boys,
because once Aunt May had to leave for a date (which Brook would find out with who later
to make sure no one hurt the woman), Harry had convinced Ned and Peter to crash their sleep
over.

Tanya had not been pleased with the idea, but after Harry began singing along to Witney
Huston, even the daughter of the chief of police couldn't say no to a night full of potently
embarrassing moments.

So the six of them relaxed together, with neither Peter or Brook were technically breaking the
rules of their punishments since they were still inside the apartment building.

Ned brought over some video games and while Brook was learning how to play them for the
first time, MJ, Peter, and Harry went over to the kitchen to make some more food.

While eyeing the game control, Brooklyn laughed as Tanya's gaze followed MJ to the
kitchen.

Tanya suddenly exclaimed around a mouth full of Cheetos, "Just you wait, I'm going to
romance her ass off!"

"That's beautiful Tanya, is that Shakespeare?" Brooklyn replied sarcastically.

"No" the cheerleader said confidently, "That Shakespeare stuff will be reserved for you and
Damian Wayne to deal with"

Ned tried to hide his chuckle over a cough, but Brook still shoved them gently onto the floor
of blankets over the sounds of Mick Jagger.

Fixing her silk pajamas, Brooklyn tried and failed to not to wonder what the Wayne was
doing right now.She'd have to be more discreet in talking to him tonight if everyone was
staying at her place...

Suddenly, the video game screen disappeared much to Ned's displeasure, replaced with the
notification of an incoming call....from her mom.
Brook had been texting Pepper and Tony since she got home from school and everything had
been fine. Was there some sort of emergency?

With that in mind, Brook didn't even think to ask her friends to leave as she asked FRIDAY
to answer the call. What came up on the TV was Brook's mom, dressed causally and by the
looks of it staying in her room at the compound.

Wasn't she supposed to be in the Manhattan apartment with Harley?

"Oh! Hey sweetie" Pepper said, eyeing the teens beside her and those coming in from the
kitchen. Instead of seeming upset as Brook had expected, a soft look overcame her features.
Dare she say, Pepper looked pleasantly surprised.

Still feeling the need to defend herself, Brooklyn said, "I'm having something called a
sleepover. Its within the parameters of dad's punishment, is it ok?"

Her mom let out a small laugh, "Of course its ok! Hello everyone, you must be my daughter's
friends"

There was something about being called HER daughter that made Brook beam with a little
bit of pride, especially as most her friends went jaw-slacked at the sight of the famous Pepper
Potts.

Even MJ had no words.

"Hello Ms. Potts!" Harry said, recovering from his shock first, moving so he could sit beside
Brook by the front of the TV.

"I'm Harry Osborn" he said with a wave, hand dirty with frosting and sprinkles,"You
probably don't remember me, but when I was younger you were always the one to take care
of me at family events when my dad was busy!"

That Brooklyn had not known.

Pepper smiled kindly, "Of course I remember. I was Tony's assistant at the time, and I would
always take you across the street for cheese pizza with olives"

Beside Brook, Harry nodded enthusiastically, "Thank you for that! Those are some of my
fondest memories after my mom died. I'm glad our Brooklyn has you as a mom"

Looking to the others, Brooklyn realized she was the only one who did not seem to know
about his mother's passing, likely because they had all known each other most of their lives.
The Stark was not sure how comfort Harry since he seemed to be ok now, or he was really
good at hiding that pain.

Brooklyn had never mourned her birth mother's death, so when Harley had been dealing with
that loss, she hadn't known what to do either. The closest thing she could think of to the
feeling of loosing a mother was if something happened to Pepper, but that was unacceptable
even in her mind.
So the girl placed an arm around Harry for comfort, an embrace he gladly leaned into. Brook
did not miss the slight reaction from her mother. Seeing Brooklyn fully trust people to let
them into her home and embrace them was a far cry from the girl she'd been when Pepper
first saw her. Brook could only hope that shock was a pleasant surprise.

Beside her Peter set down a few bowls of snacks, sending a casual wave to the screen before
realizing Peter Parker was not suppose to know Pepper.

Luckily, mom was rumored to be incredibly smart for a reason.

"Ah, Mr. Parker" Pepper said, "I had no clue you were friends with my daughter. She always
mentioned a Peter but I had no idea it was the one interning at the company. How are you
doing?"

Peter blushed, frantically sitting down on the fuzzy floor before shooting two thumbs up,
"I've been very well ma'am"

Bullet dodged, the Stark proceeded to present her friends to her mom. Seeing them all
interact, to halves of her life coming together, it felt like her home had never been more full
of love.

That was until a head of dirty blonde hair peeked into the camera. At first, Brooklyn thought
Grandpa Steve had dropped by to say hello, but last she'd heard of him, he'd just left to D.C.
for a mission.

As soon as Pepper gently motioned that it was ok, it was Harley who moved to sit by her
side, beholding the teens on the other side of the camera with wonder.

Brooklyn was quick to realize he looked much better than the first time they'd met. His
cheeks were no longer flushed and full of tears, those green eyes of his were no longer red-
rimmed, seemed to hold more life than before.

That's why Pepper was at the compound. Harley must've been deemed emotionally stable
enough to meet everyone, having been given his time to mourn a lost mother properly.

Brook had already informed her friends days ago on the top secret of her new sibling, which
was a good thing now so they wouldn't hurl questions at the poor boy.

She on the other hand, had no clue where to begin with talking to him.

Brook had long since accepted him as a brother, mostly because she had no clue what that
entailed, they had only shared greetings through text.

Brooklyn knew that her every decision and interaction with Harley would not only determine
how comfortable he was with the family, but would either help or hinder with his feeling of
loss.

Luckily, MJ had helped prepare Brooklyn these past couple of days.

Michelle had been gracious enough to deliver some books from the city library at her request.
Unlike the stacks upon stacks of books around her living room on technology, engineering,
physics, and school work, there were a few that did not fit in with the others.

How to Be a Better Sibling

The Best Way to Help a Grieving Child

What it Takes to be an Older Sister

Those were only a few of the books Brooklyn had been slaving over apart from all her other
duties. Brooklyn had always become better at things by means of knowledge learning, and
though most of the books mentioned some things would just be instinctual, she had wanted to
be prepared to be the best sibling she could be.

Harley still had no clue about Brooklyn's true past, which would be a hard hurdle to get past
one day, but for now she could at least forgo the rule about truth for his sake.

"Hi Harley" Brooklyn said, surprised to hear her voice waver in worry slightly, "I haven't
seen you in a while, but I've been dying to talk to you"

One of the many things the Stark had read is that you have to show a willingness to open
more doors in the future for bonding. Sure, she had been wanting to talk to Harley, but the
dying part was more in reference to her bubbling fears of doing it wrong.

At least the teen smiled at that, a good first step.

It helped that her friends had gathered close, each placing a comforting hand by her own, out
of sight from the camera thanks to the coffee table.

Harley too seemed unsure of his words, but after seemingly scanning the surroundings of her
home, his smile widened ever so subtly.

"Pepper says you are still in Queens but that you are scheduled to come visit during the
weekend with everyone" he said, "I missed you too"

Brooklyn almost felt like a giant weight left her body then, and a sort of relief flooded her
veins that she almost felt like crying.

Ok, good first step...

"Yeah! I'll be showing up for sure" she declared, "Mom told me you are a big fan of Spider-
man you know, so he agreed to come as well"

Her plan worked, Harley's expression turned into something so lively and excited that she
almost didn't recognize him past that grief. Brook tried not to look towards Peter, but she was
hoping he would see how happy he could make someone just by a simple appearance.

Two days ago, when he and Brook had gone to Cassie's house (a privilege that was thankfully
not revoked), he expressed his worry over imaginary tea that the people would loose faith in
him by not showing up as Spider-man to crime scenes lately.

But everyone's love was still going strong for the hero of Queens, even if it still made
Brooklyn a little jealous from time to time.

Harley looked to Pepper for confirmation, and when she nodded, he shot out of the chair and
cheered. Seeing her mom just as happy as Brook was, that they both cared for the boy's
happiness to the point of tears, thats when she finally felt like Harley was part of the family.

Just like with Cassie two days ago, Brooklyn swore she would keep Harley from all harm,
even if it meant death. The Stark had vowed to Cassie's mom that the little girl would always
be protected, not just financially like how dad was helping, but Brooklyn would go to the
ends of the world to keep the little one happy.

Now, Brook made a silent vow to her mom, the exact same one.

It was difficult to commit to being responsible for others, it just wasn't in her assassin nature,
but she'd promised to fight for her family...whatever it takes.

After telling Harley and mom about school, Brook almost had to stuff a slice of pizza on
Harry's mouth when he was about to bring up the literature play with the Wayne.

If Tony ever got a whiff of that...well then Flash would certainly become all the more richer
for it.

In turn, Harley told stories of his first few days in the compound. Brook's friends were
delighted to hear about the newly installed patriotic alarm sound Sam had installed by the
front door for when Grandpa Steve retuned from his runs, or the crazy good paprikash the
Scarlett witch had made as a welcoming dish.

To them, besides Peter of course, it all seemed so impossible and had Brooklyn not spent
many days with the team, she might've thought it crazy as well. Brooklyn did point out that
maybe she had something to do with Sam setting up that alarm, since they were both sick of
getting lapped during morning runs.

Pepper did not reprimand Brook for the prank, but did seem shocked that she'd do it in the
first place. What could she say? Sam Wilson was a convincing and conniving man.

By the time Pepper called it a night and Brook said goodbye to her family, she was feeling a
lot happier. That and her successful mission today were almost enough to lift her into a
peaceful euphoria.

Since there were more guests than originally planned, the sleeping arrangements had to
change. The boys INSISTED on sleeping in the living room, saying it was what gentlemen
would do, plus they wanted to stay up and gossip about 'guy things'.

Tanya almost looked like she would fly to the heavens when that meant she had to share a
room with MJ, sending Brook a nasty look meant to keep her from offering her bed as well.
So, now in the comfort of her bedroom, Brooklyn had settled down into bed, smiling to
herself as she realized how lucky she was to have such good company.

Laying under the covers, Brooklyn answered a few texts from her family, most of them
saying they were alive and unharmed after a meeting with the other heroes of the world.

Brook's dad had sent a little video showing her the view of Hollywood (where he'd rushed to
for a mission) from the sky, promising to take her on vacation soon once all this mess was
over with.

It felt good to be able to casually text her family too, that it was such a normal thing now that
Brook did not have to worry over what to say or feel as if she were walking on eggshells.
Perhaps one day, she and Harley would be able to text casually, talk about anything and
everything as siblings should.

Her thoughts on a brighter future were halted when a little beeping noice came on. Knowing
it by heart, Brooklyn smiled and reached into her drawer, which was full of home made
weapons that had been scattered around her apartment, which she'd had to collect due to the
visitors.

After some shuffling around, Brooklyn took the walkie-talkie under the covers along with her
and as way of greeting she said sarcastically, "Oh, my Julian Capulet, I feared thou hath
forgotten about me"

Damian huffed in annoyance, "How can I forget about you when you are the greatest bother
of my life"

And thus began another long talk full of half-hearted insults, tales of escape, and common
interest in making Flash loose as much money as possible.

Being carful of the noise, Brook was still able to banter with her nemesis for a few hours
until they both eventually fell asleep with the devices in hand.

Dick Grayson POV-

Today had been a long day that provided no leads on the Joker's whereabouts.

Unlike the days when Barbara had first been unconscious, Bruce had calmed down at least,
so no one was being overworked as much.

Dick suspected it had to do with Selina's pregnancy, that his father wanted to be a good
parent from the start this time.

So after a long and ridiculous meeting with the Avengers, full of banter and clear dislike for
one another, everyone was back at the Wayne Mansion for once.

Though Dick no longer lived here permanently, he still came back often enough to still have
his room clean and proper. One he'd share with his wife today.
Because today's meeting had been between all the heroes available, not only had the
Avengers, Justice league, and the Gotham vigilantes shown up, but also the group of heroes
Dick had somehow become the leader of a few years ago.

The Teen Titans, most no longer teenagers, had also attended as well. Bruce had offered to let
them stay in the mansion for the night, and Dick suspected the only teens of the group left
were already in bed, fed up with the adult talk that had transpired the whole way back to
Gotham.

Raven and Beast Boy were never very fond of the Wayne family aside from Dick and Tim,
but they were also teenagers, and Nightwing could understand their want for some peace and
quiet after what had transpired.

The other members of the Titans were in the living room with Dick. Cyborg was in deep
conversation with Wonder Woman, choosing the most boring subject of archeological
artifacts that could've put Dick to sleep.

At least his amazing wife was here. Starfire lounged by his side, bright red hair tied up lazily,
and glowing green eyes trained on the TV as they watched one of her favorite shows.

Neither Flash, Martian Hunter, or Green lantern seemed to mind the romantic comedy, likely
far too spent from the meeting to care.

So they all sat in relative peace, replenishing their strength with food and relaxing their
muscles from the stiff postures they'd all held at the meeting.

Choosing the place itself had been a hassle, Dick recalled with a sigh. No Avenger was
willing to go to the Justice League base on the moon, and Bruce had outright refused any
Avengers building suggested.

Dick still recalled his shock at being told the only compromise that had been reached, mostly
between Stark and Wayne banter, was the basement of the museum Diana Prince worked at.
Wonder Woman had expressed her distaste at using the place of her civilian identity for such
a thing, but it was the most defensive place that no one would look for the heroes in, one
even the most stubborn could agree with.

Placing his arm around his wife, Dick almost felt like laughing. Not because the comedy was
particularly funny, Starfire's sense of humor was still getting used to human customs, but
because he'd never seen such a large amount of powerful people act like whining children.

Though he had managed to make the occasional joke here and there, some rivalries were just
not meant to be stopped. It was a miracle the lot of them managed to come up with a proper
plan by the end, that everyone stayed alive and unharmed.

Though Dick found little pleasure in a admitting it, the young Stark had been right in warning
them to use her intel carefully. She'd predicted they'd all want to go attack all the bases the
trackers showed, which would end up giving away the fact that the Joker and Harley were
somehow being traced.
The trackers had died this morning, and now they had no clue where the Joker was, which
was not worth the amount of places he and the others managed to destroy beforehand.

It was no wonder that Damian found the young Stark so infuriating, she might just be smart
and strong enough to rival him in every aspect, a fact Dick couldn't help but find very
amusing, especially as said kid descended down the stairs towards the kitchen until he
spotted the crowded area.

Damian was never one for formalities, so it came to no one's surprise that the youngest
Wayne was content on walking past all of them.

But Dick had never been one to let Damian get off easy in any situation, so he waved at his
brother and yelled, "Hey little D! How was school today? Anything interesting or report from
grounded central?"

The teen froze mid step, though still managed to make it graceful as he often did things,
something Dick suspected hand to do with that tight upbringing of his. But Damian often just
shrugged off that kind of question, sometimes complained about the stupidity of those around
him.

Not today though.

Superman chose that moment to come into the living room, like everyone else, he was
already in comfortable clothes but was flying with a few bowls of food for everyone in hand.
When Clark passed by his godson, the kryptonian ruffled Damian's hair affectionately, a
move the moody teen still flinched away from angrily.

Trying to fix his dark hair, Damian frowned at the smiling adults. Then he went back to his
passive expression, hands behind his back and Titus now as his shadow.

"Since there is no yelling I presume the meeting held no casualties?" Damian asked.

Changing he subject, how unusual for Damian to pass up an opportunity to complain about
school, especially now that he went to one with a Stark and Osborn.

Dick had been so busy with all of this Joker stuff, weapons, and such to truly sit down and
ask Damian how everything was going for him, especially now that he must be furious about
being grounded.

He knew about the escape attempts, since Tim and Jason loved to throw the tales into the
coms when everyone was out on missions. But Dick knew Damian well enough that he was
at least handling this better than ever before. What had changed in him? The prospect of
death?

Under normal circumstances, Dick might've pleaded for Damian's release, but after finding
out he was almost killed by the Joker again, Nightwing was slightly ashamed for agreeing
that this approach was necessary to keep his youngest brother safe.
It was Arthur, to most known as Aquaman, that dared voice his thoughts as he settled on a
love seat, his plopping on it almost shaking the whole living room.

"This was a whole lot of bullshit! It would've gone a lot more smoothly had Batman and Iron
man not argued with one another on everything. I'm almost tempted to send a few piranhas
into their beds tonight" Arthur said with a sigh, arms full of tattoos stretching lazily until they
ended up pointing at Cyborg, "You didn't help either, don't think I forgot about that! You
arguing numbers and math, probability and all that nonsense with Vision gave me a
headache, watch your bed tonight"

Cyborg seemed unbothered by the threat, "We were merely comparing the accuracy of our
programming by means of-"

Dick's wife cut him off, "I don't think that matters very much right now. We need to work
with them to stop these weapons. If we can't do that, then we might as well just hand the
Joker all the cities and countries we swore to protect"

As always, his lovely wife was right, it almost made Dick wanna kiss her right there in front
of everyone, but then Bat dad and Selina walked into the room, and they'd never been too
fond of affection being displayed in front of guests.

Both stood by Damian, who gave Bruce a nod of acknowledgment (clearly still angry over
the punishment). When Dick was getting ready to yell at Damian for saying some nasty back-
handed comment to Selina, he almost collapsed on the floor when he saw the youngest give
the woman a similar nod, nothing more.

To some, it might still seem very rude considering Selina was like their mom, but as far as
Damian standards, that had been outright cozy and friendly behavior. Even Bruce seemed like
he was about to loose his stoic expression.

Before Titus could attack Bruce or Selina for being too close to Damian (which happened
way too often to be a mere possibility), the pair sat down on an empty couch of the huge
living room, soon joined by Tim, Jason, Steph, and Cass who came back from the kitchen
with snacks of their own.

Barbara came wheeling in not long after, settling by Uncle Clark's couch.

She had not been to the meeting today, staying behind with Alfred instead for some therapy.
She seemed to be doing better emotionally for sure, but there was a sort of longing in her
eyes as she beheld everyone gathered.

Like Damian, Barbara had wanted to attend as well.

Deciding to end the somber atmosphere at the reminder of Babs' condition, Dick made sure to
dramatically clap Uncle Clark on the back while saying, "I bet Jon and Damian are still
pissed at us for not going today. Does Jon talk about school, because little D refuses to lately"

Ignoring Damian's glare by the door, Dick focused his attention on their uncle, who seemed
to consider the question quite seriously. Unlike Bruce, Clark seemed to have a great
relationship with his kids, and always prioritized his family, even before hero work.

If anyone could distract the tense and tired atmosphere with some good ol' high school drama
and antics, it would be Clark.

"Jon mentioned that an important football game is coming up soon so my family and I will be
going to show our support. He seems to really be enjoying his time at Midtown, thriving
more than just academically" Clark confessed proudly.

"Your son plays football?" Bruce asked, "That hardly seems fair to others"

"I talked to Jon the other day. He's keeping the power use to a minimum, in fact, he seemed to
have made incredible progress controlling his powers lately even though he hasn't had a
chance to use them" Barry said, stuffing his mouth full of food since his Flash powers
required many calorie restorations after running all the way here.

That at least was some good news for everyone to fawn over. Out of all the human-
kryptonian children, Jon had been the one displaying the most powerful abilities since birth
but one who often struggled with using them for too long or to their highest potential.

Maybe one day that kid wouldn't have to be afraid of kissing a girl in fear of breaking her
nose or something of the sort.

"What about you Damian?" Diana asked the young boy, "Your swiftness and intelligence
would be highly beneficial in a sport like football. Do you play as well?"

Damian did not dare to scowl heavily at the amazon, but did roll his eyes as he leaned on the
door frame, hand petting his enormous dog as he replied casually, "Why would I ever decide
to take a part in such a barbaric sport with mere pawns that I can't destroy?"

Ah, there he was. Dick was almost afraid for a second that his brother's odd actions tonight
meant he was ill or something.

"Alfred says you still stay behind after school even when your mission to spy on the Stark
has been annulled" Bruce said, sounding displeased as some in attendance went wide eyed at
the mention of the secret mission.

Good, let them realize why there was so much banter today. This family feud was no small
thing to joke over, it was about time everyone suffered along with Dick when it came to this.

"I'm part of the school art club father, my reason to stay behind is purely academical now"

Art Club!? Damian?

Now this was interesting...

Leaning back further into the couch, Dick pulled his wife closer to snuggle while placing his
tried feet on the coffee table lazily.
"So that means that you no longer deal with or see the Stark then?" Dick asked, knowing full
well Titus was going to bite his ass for pestering Damian later, but after the long day full of
boring negotiations, this is the kind of chaotic drama he needed.

Stephanie tipped her head back in laughter, blonde hair spilling on Tim's chest as he hugged
his girlfriend on the couch.

"I was just talking to Alfred" Steph said, "He mentioned something about Titus tacking
Brooklyn Stark at school this morning on her way to school"

Jason grinned, "Is that why Tony Stark was so irritable today? Titus killed his daughter?"

Some in the room did not find the idea very amusing, and those people were everyone but the
Waynes. Dick had no real qualms with the young Stark if he thought about it long enough, if
fact, he owed her big time for not only saving his little brother twice, but also for giving him
an ego boost to mock his siblings with.

Now he could proudly say he had an ass that was one of a kind and no one, not even Tim,
could argue against that fact.

In another unusual manner, it was Damian who spoke up, but not in his usual tone of
indifference, he was defensive.

Even though he was amongst the shortest in the room, Damian had no qualms staring down
every member of his family, not even Bruce. The teen pushed off from his leaning position,
with an alert Titus eager to do his master's bidding should he ask.

"Stark was not harmed in any way, Titus has become infatuated with her. Just something to
keep in mind in case you piss her off with my dog around, she could just as easily command
him to give you all an ill fate as I could" Damian said, then rolled his eyes at the silence and
made his way to the kitchen.

The room remained eerily quiet afterwards, even Dick and Jason, who often had a joke or
comment to add at serious comments fell short for a few seconds.

He had NEVER heard Damian talk about someone like that, almost as if he was defending
them. Even more unusual was the fact that Titus liked someone other than Damian, had he
not seen Titus fall under the Stark's control all those weeks ago in the manor, Dick might've
been worried his youngest sibling was making jokes now a days.

It was uncle Clark that spoke up, one of the few in the room aside from the 'Waynes' that
knew Damian just as they did, perhaps even better since Jon was his son.

"Is it just me, or did Damian seem more docile yet more dangerous than ever before"

Dick couldn't have worded the swirling mess in his head better.

On the couches before Dick, Bruce's gaze did not leave the corridor Damian disappeared into,
as if the answers lingered there for him.
Wonder Woman spoke up then, "I think it was very honorable for him to stand up against
such awful claims, especially since they were made towards someone he dislikes"

Starfire nodded in agreement, then gave him a look as if to dare to disagree. Dick was a smart
lad, not as smart as Tim, but enough to agree with his wife which was rewarded with a
blissful kiss on the cheek.

Just when they thought Damian had comeback, two sleepy figures appeared at the entrance.
Both Beast Boy and Raven looked around the room, asking why there was such ruckus
earlier.

Taking a seat next to Starfire, the two teens frowned at the silence until Damian walked in
with a plate of food in hand no doubt made by Alfred. He seemed content to go back upstairs
without a word, but it seemed even Bruce was worried at this point.

"Damian" Bruce commanded.

The teen sighed, but made his way to stand by their dad, Titus ready to pounce.

"Yes father?" the youngest asked, "Is getting food a restriction on your punishment? Should I
throw it away in the nearest trashcan? In this room, the closest trashcan would be Jason in
that case"

Before a brawl between brothers arose, it was Selina who said, "I know being cooped up in
here is a bitch, if your father had done that to me I would clawed his face off" the woman
ignored her husband's pointed look with a smirk as she added, "But if you're starting to go
insane enough as to defend a Stark, maybe we can find something for you to do in here"

Despite the passivity Damian had been willing to show to a pregnant Selina, Dick had not
been expecting that small kindness to hold up after that comment, so he untangled himself
from Starfire's embrace, ready to hold Damian back even if it meant jumping over the antique
table Alfred loved very much.

But...Damian glared, his fists clenched, but not once did he yell back at their adoptive mom.
That action alone could've floored Nightwing, but it was further surpassed by the teen's next
words.

"If you are implying I cannot handle this small punishment, then you are mistaken. My antics
to escape are simply to annoy you all, not out of pathetic desperation. Plus, I did not 'defend'
the Stark, she still remains my nemesis no matter-"

Damian was cut off by a familiar name mentioned on TV. When everyone, hero or vigilante,
turned to gaze at the large screen, the young lady of their conversation appeared on MTV
news with a golden knee length dress and bright red lips Dick recalled from that day at the
gala.

Unlike that time she had brought Damian back home, she did not look dangerous at all in that
interview, in fact, she looked just as docile as anyone would expect from the daughter of one
fo the richest men in the world.
When Dick stole a glance at his younger brother, the teen had not used to distraction to flee,
but remained rooted on the spot, staring intently at the TV with a slightly raised brow.

Nightwing knew for a fact that everyone in this room despised the media, they had told the
world of their best and worst moments behind a mask and while wearing one, but none could
dare change the channel, especially those that had barely learned Stark's daughter was an
assassin during today's meeting.

"Hello everyone" the announcer said happily, turning to face the Stark with a large grin,
"Today we have a very special guest, Miss Brooklyn Stark! Its an honor to have you here
today"

Brooklyn settled comfortably on her couch, smiling back towards the male host and then the
camera.

"I'm glad to be here" the teen said, "Though I must admit I'm not used to interviews yet"

The host, who the TV introduced as Elijah, laughed at the comment.

"You're doing great! You've been in a few interviews already and those were great as well,
don't stress too much" he said, then leaned forward from his own seat to say, "May I add that
you look absolutely wonderful today. What brand are you wearing today? Channel?
Balenciaga? Its Prada isn't it?"

The Stark on TV glanced down at her golden hued dress, smoothing down the fabric as she
chuckled.

"Its Walmart actually"

In unison, Steph, Flash, Beast Boy, Aquaman, and Dick burst out into laughter.

The eldest Wayne had doubled back into chuckles again when Elijah's jaw opened, and when
the host realized it wasn't a joke he seemed like he wanted to die of embarrassment.

Suddenly more interested, Dick went as far as to lean forward noticing his siblings and even
some heroes do so as well. Richard would tease Jason about that concealed smirk later, but
that thought was halted when the Stark spoke up again, "Is everything alright? I was not told
wearing something expensive was necessary for today"

Elijah's face reddened, "Of course its not a requirement dear. Its just that normally people
with your background and fame would opt for something of name brands"

The Stark looked down at her dress fondly, "I saw this on a display back home and bought it
because it was really pretty, isn't that what matters?"

"Yes of course!" the host said, "I'm sure this dress will be sold out around the country by
morning now that you're wearing it!"

"Damn right it will be" Stephanie whispered, already on her phone no doubt trying to
purchase one of her own.
"The Stark is out enemy Steph" Jason pointed out mockingly.

Said blonde shot him a finger and replied, "And thats a gorgeous dress, if we're done stating
the obvious, I'm busy trying to buy a dress from Walmart of all places!"

When Dick turned to see if Damian was finally fed up with this, as he would call 'trivial
nonsense', he was surprised to see the young teen was till standing by their dad, eyes glued on
the TV with a happy Titus by his side.

There was something about seeing that dog happy that was even scarier than anything else
Dick had ever experienced in his life. After shaking off the shudders running down his spine
he heard the gentle voice of the Stark say, "Its not that different from every other family.
Sure, mine has a rather...unusual occupation, but they are still my family"

The host beamed at the information, "What about Pepper Potts and your father, does their
engagement not bother you? Condolences for your mom in mind of course"

The girl went wide eyed, "Of course I'm not bothered. Pepper is my mom, feels like she's
been so my whole life. The fact that my dad gets to be happy is just the icing on the cake. As
far as I'm concerned, wedding or not, Pepper is already my mom"

Dick realized very quickly that the girl meant it, every word of it.

It reminded Dick of his childhood self, the boy who had lost his parents and left the circus to
join Mr. Wayne in this fancy mansion. He had been reluctant to let his parents go, but after
many years, even when they didn't often see eye to eye, Dick still called Bruce his father
without hesitation.

"What about a boyfriend? We haven't been able to keep up with that these past few years, but
the world wants to know if anyone has caught your eye?" Elijah said, which sent every
publicly known Wayne's eyes rolling since they too had always been asked that.

The eldest Wayne had never expected to care if a Stark was in a relationship or not, and the
only reason he did mind today was because he saw the way Damian's eyes seemed to
intensify onto the screen. It was only for a brief moment before little D put back his mask of
indifference...but Dick could've sworn he'd seen brief interest in those green orbs.

The girl on TV seemed to blush behind her light make up, "I'm not dating anyone, nor do I
think anyone would want to date me. I just want to focus on the company and school for now,
work towards a decent future so that I can fulfill my responsibilities well"

The man on TV seemed disappointed by the lack of juicy secrets to exploit to the world for
money, which is probably why he added, "Well I can tell you right now without a doubt Miss
Stark that millions around the world would give up limbs just to go on a date with you. When
you are ready to pick a suitor, you'll have your pick of the litter"

Brooklyn made a face at that, "I don't think all of those millions of people would want to date
me because they care about me, but probably for the money and fame. I'd say my pick of the
litter is rather small in that case"
"Wow, it seems this one won't sleep around like Tony Stark or dear old Bat dad" Jason
pointed out with a smirk, a jab meant for Bruce as always.

The rest of the interview was rather calm to say the least. Brooklyn Stark may be an assassin,
but like all the ones Dick had met in his life, it seemed she was rather smart for her age.
Keeping things vague when they needed to be, smiling and laughing when appropriate, she
even went out to help a crew member who fell while passing by.

No wonder the world was raving about this new celebrity. From a simple interview, she
seemed like a perfect person, one down to earth and relatable, something the Waynes could
not often portray themselves as to the pubic.

Not that any tried.

By the end of it all, Diana was complaining about the comments to the Stark form the
Waynes. She did not understand the family rivalry's purpose, no one but the Waynes did. It
was just the way things were.

The Wayne kids were hiding a secret still. Bruce, Selina, and everyone else did not know of
the time that same Stark went out of her way to save Damian and bring him home, that she
stood up to the Joker and destroyed his tool that had threatened the lives of many of Dick's
siblings.

They all honored the family rivalry, but none were too eager to admit they owed that girl a
life debt. Damian was Dick's little brother, blood or not, and if something had happened to
him...

Dick was about to ask his dear brother what he thought of seeing his enemy scoring points
with the media when he noticed the other teen sitting beside Starfire.

Raven was a gloomy girl burdened by power, one who took solace in what Dick liked to refer
to as the 'emo teenage stage of life'.

In his time leading the Titans, Nightwing had NEVER seen Raven smile or laugh. She was
much like Damian in that regard, hiding behind a mask of nothingness.

When those two interacted, which hand only happened...two times? Well, Raven was not as
bothered with working with someone else who would not waste time with mindless chatter.
Damian hadn't seemed to notice she was even around unless it was to mention how much of a
threat she could be with those powers of hers.

If paired together one day, they would be gloomy and angry together. The half-demon
daughter of the inter-dimensional demon Trigon, with the power to manipulate energy, time,
and emotions. Paired with the grandson of Ra's al Ghul, the demon of the League of
Assassins who could kill a person with a toothpick....yeah they would either kill each other or
the world.

The fact that such a thing was normal sentence was still a bit of a shock to be honest, but he
was sitting in a room with mutants, aliens, an amazon, and even a half robot. What was
normal anyways?

It wasn't until that moment, watching as young Raven beheld Damian with those tired eyes
and the gloomiest expression closest to endearment, that he almost shot out of his chair in
shock!

How couldn't he have not noticed Raven, his teammate and in some ways his responsibility,
had a teenage crush on Damian of all people!?

Maybe it wasn't a crush, perhaps it was something akin to goth adoration, but Dick often
forgot that Raven was just a teenager as well.

Dick tried to think of a world were those two were together, and he had to fight back the
instinct to scream in fear. They would be cold, calculating, powerful, he could almost
envision clouds following them around as they looked down at everything around them.

It would be chaos.

Damian on the other hand, had not spared a single glance at the purple haired girl, his gaze
remained on the screen, watching as the red haired Stark waved at the TV and moved
backstage.

Then the screen timed out saying this was a recording from three days ago.

Dick ignored all conversation around him as he pondered if his shut off brother would even
be interested in a relationship with someone. Jason and Tim had pointed out many times that
Damian's approach to people was so bad that he'd never date, much less get his first kiss.

Richard, unlike some of his family members, had higher hopes for his youngest brother. He
was a man who believed in fairytales and miracles despite being an adult. Perhaps one day
someone would sweep Damian off his feet, but he wasn't certain if Raven was that person. In
fact, the only other Waynes who seemed to be on a path of lasting relationships were Tim and
Barbara...

Damian didn't work well with others, much less talk to them casually or without a reason. He
hated being touched, much less so in a romantic way probably. Though Dick knew there was
some good in that young teen, Damian seemed content to only fight for himself most times,
not even bothering to get to know someone new.

The day the youngest Wayne trusted someone enough to love them or at least be comfortable
around them...Dick would dance around for days on end for sure.

But speaking of sweeping off their feet.

The conversation around them had shifted onto how much Damian hated Brooklyn, much to
the confusion of everyone in the room. Which is why Dick silently mourned the unbroken
state of his belongings and the lack of injuries on his body before shouting to everyone in the
room, "Why don't we show them the video of the gala!?"
"Video!?" Bruce reprimanded, glaring at his sons while Tim excitedly linked his phone with
the TV before Damian could launch at him.

But it was too late, soon, the diabolical footage of that night of Brooklyn and Damian sharing
a dance was on for everyone to see.

It took an amused Aquaman and Flash holding back Damian from destroying the TV as they
all watched the product of Dick's and Tim's brilliance. He could even ignore the
uncomfortable bitting on his leg from Titus just by rewatching the glorious events from that
night.

Even the ever righteous Clark, Diana, and Martian Hunter could not keep their small smiles
at bay at the sight, at least until they caught sight of the daggers the teens danced around
with, which Bruce went wide eyed at.

Despite the yelling from Damian, the dance ended with the grand finale of the Stark dipping
Damian into her arms. At that point, the Wayne siblings had lost all control and went into a
fit of chuckles that were loud enough to summon Alfred, who stared at the TV with a hidden
smirk of his own.

Lest to say, Damian retreated to his room with threats towards everyone if that video wasn't
deleted.

"I would've died again just to have been there on that day" Jason said, smiling at the staircase
Damian and Titus disappeared into. Bruce looked like he wanted to yell at them, maybe for
filming the event, but even though he had been there, he seemed too shocked by it all to talk.

Not long after, everyone went to their respective guest bedrooms that night feeling much
more energized and eased from the long day.

Dick had gone back down to the kitchen to get Starfire some water, which ended up being
quite late after the mansion had called lights out.

Perhaps he was too tired from missions and the meeting still, but he could've sworn he head a
female voice in Damian's room when he passed by. It was faint, and it seemed like his
youngest brother was talking back.

Maybe someone else was awake and the sound was echoing in the halls?

That had to be it....right?

It almost sounded like the sweet voice from the TV earlier, the same voice of Brooklyn Stark.
Thats how Dick knew he truly was tired and had imagined the whole thing, he'd even had a
good laugh about it with his wife before they both settled down on his old bed cuddled into
each other's arms.

What a silly hallucination.

What wasn't a hallucination was Titus waking Dick up biting his leg. Now that had been
painful, but incredibly worth it.
Chapter End Notes

Just to be clear about a few things. I know that Raven and Damian have a canon thing
going on, but I don't want to go about making this a very complicated love...hexagon?
Raven is not here to be an empty placement for ship complications, she and the other
titans are there for a reason.

That being said, I feel as though Raven would still hold some sort of odd affection for
Damian, one that will be discussed in later chapters.

Also, hope you guys liked Harley's appearance this chapter, and that of all of these new
characters. Some will most definitely show up again, I don't plan to just write people in
for the sake of making the story just seem more immersed in their worlds.
 Peace Never Lasts
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

"I'm just saying, you should've been trained for that" Brooklyn mused, laying with a walkie-
talkie raised on one hand, the other twirling the pen that was supposed to be used on the
homework scattered on the bed.

On the other end of the line, the Stark heard her enemy reply, "What possible advantage
would drinking hold for an assassin?"

"If one day you are forced to drink undercover, you my dear demon, will be a drunken mess
drooling on the floor" she said, "I, on the other hand, can drink three shots of Russian vodka
without even flinching. Though I am kinda curious what kind of drunk you will be"

The sound of a pencil on paper paused on the other end of the line, and Damian replied
seriously, "Why would I ever drink?"

Eyeing the Stark Industries events schedule she'd been given today, Brooklyn could think of
eighteen different reasons why that would be the case.

"We will have to go to business events our whole lives where drinking will either save us
from boredom, or it will be a necessity out of manners"

"In that case, what kind of drunk are you?"

Brooklyn laughed at the question, dismissing her work completely as she laid on the bed,
staring at the glowing star stickers on her wall, the ones Jon insisted on buying when she
mentioned something about never seeing a sky full of stars thanks to city smog.

She'd arranged them into commonly known constellations, and wordlessly dedicated one for
each of her friends and family based on their meaning, (information she also got from a
surprisingly knowledgeable Jon Kent). Then again, he and his dad could likely fly to the stars
themselves. maybe spending so much time up in the sky made a person curious.

Though she'd never admit it to a single soul, there was a constellation up there that did not
belong to a friend or family. In the intricacy of the Big Dipper, one with four stars in a
rectangle symbolizing the shape of a bear and three stars representing three hunters....the first
hunter, closest to the bear, was actually named Robin, often labeled as a completely black-
colored bird.

As soon as she'd realized it, her mind had turned that into Damian, the other two hunters
working to kill the bear being the rest of her team, consisting of Jon and Peter (Ned had his
own constellation away from the fight).
The bear was not the Joker surprisingly...she couldn't quite decide what they were hunting.

Perhaps it was a fight against overprotective parents, criminals, or even fighting fate to
become something more..still, her own constellation of the phoenix (because Jon said it was
seen as an orange/red color like her hair) lingered close to her team as if it would aid them in
the hunt, one she was no longer willing to let them engage alone.

Still, listening to her robin while looking up at her ceiling made Brook smirk. Even though
Damian often asked the most ridiculous questions, it was never dull talking with him, even
hunting enemies together was not so bad.

"To be honest, I'm not sure what kind of drunk I am", Brooklyn confessed, "I always drank to
keep warm during the night, so maybe I sleep when drunk?"

Damian's end went silent for a few seconds, save for the barking of Titus and the distant
sound of shuffling steps passing by.

"Even the league was not foolish enough to subject their trainees to the cold without proper
attire" he said, almost sounding angry, "But if you ever happen to drink too much during an
event, at least it will be amusing to see you pass out on the floor"

Hilarious...

"If I ever drink too much, I think Harry would be nearby" she argued, "At least he would help
me like a ture gentleman should"

The line went quiet again, until Brook heard a huff of annoyance on the other end.

"He wouldn't even be able to carry you out or might be drunk right beside you, so it appears
my help is all you truly have, Stark"

Had he just...offered to help if she ever got drunk? Brooklyn tried to distract herself form the
weirdness of that statement by playing with the golden chain of her necklace, almost
becoming so engrossed with it and the thought of Damian actively helping her in front of a
crowd that she almost missed the noise coming from the front door.

Great, Ned was here at last!

"Well, I'm off to build a Star Wars lego set, Julian Capulet" she sighed, "Don't miss me too
much"

Damian quickly replied, "You wish! Go play with toys like a child then, my b
'beloved' nemesis. Lets see how much that helps you in besting me"

Brook laughed, getting up from the bed and fixing her jeans before saying back, "That's what
the literature play is for. Today's first practice was easy because we didn't have to act
anything out, though I do hope that tomorrow you don't mess up our perfor-"

The Stark cut off her own sentence when she heard the door open quietly. She'd long ago
memorized the very distinct creak of the door when it barely opened on its hinges, one she'd
kept Peter from fixing for this exact reason.

It was a safety measure, one for when Brook turned off her home A.I. as she talked to
Damian. Brooklyn knew for a fact she hadn't left the door open, and Ned did not have a key.

Whenever Jon and Peter had shown up before her punishment, they along with Damian had
always used her balcony to come inside, which is why she'd left that path rather defenseless.

No one used the front door without knocking.

That quickly, the Stark rushed to the drawer by her beside, picking up Damian's dagger and
clutching it tight. All the while, she wondered how the Joker found out of her involvement,
wondering how many goons he'd sent and how they had managed getting inside the fortified
building.

Before Damian could say a thing, she quickly whispered, "Someone is here. If I don't answer
tonight at out scheduled talking hour, tell Peter so he can get my dad"

Without waiting for confirmation from the Wayne, Brook turned off the device and made way
to the bedroom door with bare feet as silently as she could. Once she made it to the threshold,
she could hear small steps, barely audible, which suggested someone WAS trying to be
discrete.

Could this be one of Natasha's training exercises? Had she come back from Florida so soon?

Sestra would've called...

As quietly as she could, Brooklyn waited until the steps made it to the room in front of her
own, the study once used for research, before slowly opening the door.

Maybe she was being paranoid, but being worried was a survival instinct right about now.

When Brooklyn made it out the door into the welcoming hall, she heard shuffling inside the
study, and when she peeked into the door...her eye was almost taken out by the swift move of
a dagger. Had Grandpa Steve not been drilling her about defensive maneuvers lately in
training, Brooklyn might've been too slow to avoid it.

In a quick motion, the Stark pushed her body back against the opposite wall with a grunt, but
raised her knife at the ready when the hooded attacker made another move to strike. Swift
like the wind, the attacker's arm moved to slash her chest, but Brooklyn had already elected
to throw an attack of her own.

In the blink of an eye, Brooklyn assessed the situation.

Front door was close, but too much of a danger for her neighbors. Windows and fire exit, too
far.

Attacker; height (two inch advantage), similar weight (maybe two pounds heavier), powerful
moves and swift feet.
The enemy would start with the dagger in hand, then likely resort to fists, but they will use
their body at some point. Going to go for Brooklyn's head? Not likely, the attacks were not
meant to be lethal.

But Brook caught on to the non-physical attributes as well, simply from the body language of
three and a half moves. There was rage, instinct, strategy, behavioral tics that favored the
right side.

Every battle was a new problem set, and every opponent required a new formula. Brooklyn
knew her work had to be disciplined and meticulous if these were the sort of calculations that
could end in death.

So the moment the attacker began to move, Brook became methodical, and efficient.

Like a trained soldier, she ducked away from the blade, meeting its sharp end with her own,
then kicking out one of her legs and sideswiping the attacker's own with her feet.

As soon as the attacker fell on the floor, they picked themselves up in one swift movement,
but it caused their hood to fall off, revealing a teenager seemingly around Brooklyn's age,
with dirty blonde hair, strong brows, and green eyes full of determination and a sort of void
inside.

She crouched close to the floor, clutching that blade as she eyed Brooklyn with distaste. The
Stark was just starting to wonder why the Joker was sending teens to do his bidding when the
girl said in perfect Russian accent, "My nashli tebya, 10452"

We found you, 10452.

The words were enough for Brooklyn's body to freeze up, which was enough for the Red
Room assassin to pounce, tackling Brook back until she was thrown on the kitchen table with
a painful thud.

Trying to recover from her fear and realization, Brooklyn ignored the pain on her side to
block the blade that was millimeters from her stomach. Both girls growled at one another,
locked in a will of strength as one tried to stab the other.

But all the while, Brooklyn couldn't help but worry that Ivan would show up through her
door, that more Red Room agents would go into Peter's apartment not two doors down. He
was naive and sweet, Peter would open the door for a stranger if they confessed to needing
help.

The thought of him or Aunt May getting involved because of Brook gave the girl enough
motivational strength to kick the assassin girl back against the rear of the couch. The blonde
only briefly clutched her head before turning her intense gaze back on her.

Brook knew what the stranger was doing. Crouched by the couch, the assassin was sizing the
Stark up, analyzing strengths, weaknesses, patterns to her motion and rhythm. This assassin
had not expected Brooklyn to still hold Red Rooms skills, which was actually a relief of
sorts.
Clutching Damian's dagger, Brook ignored the forming bruises and the scattered table
decorations around her as she too continued to asses this new threat. If only she could get
back to the bedroom, activate FRIDAY...

Peter could likely not hear this commotion even with his enhanced hearing, not when May
was likely blasting the Bachelor this far into the afternoon.

This was a fight between Brooklyn and her past.

Even when she was panting and scared, Brooklyn leveled her voice and asked, "Vas Ivan
prislal?"

Did Ivan send you?

The attacker discarded her own dagger, reaching for the gun on her belt, only to realize it was
not there any more. During her earlier struggle, Brooklyn had noticed it, made sure that when
she kicked the assassin away, the gun would fly off.

Realizing an advantage was gone, the blonde replied darkly, "Ty menya ne pomnish', sestra?
Vy zabyli svoye vremya doma v Rossii?"

Remember her? Brooklyn did not in fact remember the assassin before her. But unlike what
the blonde had said, Brook had not forgotten her time in Russia, ever, but it was no longer her
home.

When she'd said as much, the assassin looked angered, brining the neck covered part of her
casual jacket to showcase a scar that had barely missed a vital artery.

For it too look like that, to be so precise, it had to have been done on purpose. Plus it had not
healed well, as most Red Room injuries often did.

But that scar, the blonde hair....

"10453?" Brooklyn asked, remembering the girl who had slept in the bed beside Brook's own
since birth. One who sometimes showed up in her nightmares trying to kill her, the one she'd
seen at the shooting range before Brooklyn rebelled.

Back then, the Widow had a broken hand, likely would've died come the next sparring match
had SHIELD not attacked.

But that scar on her neck....Brooklyn had done that.

It had been a sparring day like any other, one where a young red-head was tasked with
fighting with the blonde. Knowledge of her life mission had just been revealed, and that little
girl with brown eyes was distracted by the wonder of what her father might be like.

So when the time came for a killing blow, when the order to stop had not been given,
Brooklyn had hesitated.... opting for a non-lethal wound that sent her fellow sestra screaming
with rage and defeat.
That had been the day Brook received the largest scar across her back for that simple failure,
because she had imagined attacking the body of her father rather than an opponent. That whip
had hit the exact same spot over and over until the gash became so deep that Brooklyn's then
recently revealed mother had to stop before she hit bone and irreversible damage.

This was the sestra Brook had spared, the one who was now here to kill her.

The assassin seemed surprised at being recognized, but still said, "Vam ne podkhodit
pritvoryat'sya printsessoy N'yu-Yorka"

Pretending to be the princess of New York doesn't suit you... she was referring to the media
exposure. The interviews, magazines, modeling jobs...the Red Room had found her easily,
just as she'd feared.

Trying to keep her gaze away from the dinning table, Brooklyn shrugged, moving ever so
subtly as if chasing away a body ache.

"No, it does not. But this is my life now, and I won't be going back ever" Brooklyn
announced, reverting back to English as a brief distraction.

The blonde smirked, and with traces of an accent Brooklyn had once possessed as heavily,
the assassin announced, "I was not asking"

At the same time Brooklyn reached for the gun hidden under her table, the assassin threw a
series of small daggers her way. Just as Brooklyn pulled the trigger, her bare shoulders were
struck by the blades, while another actually left a gash in her forehead.

Just as Brooklyn fell back by the impact of the pain, her stun shot made its mark, and 10453
feel against the couch screaming and fighting the sleeping chemicals to no avail.

*****

Exhausted.

Fear and exhaustion were the only things Brooklyn could feel at the moment as she laid on
the ground. After tying the intruder down with the only thing available, which were her
curtains, Brooklyn hadn't even been able to make it to the kitchen.

Those daggers had been poisoned, a very mild dose of Strychnine poisoning that Brooklyn
recognized as the Red Room choice for kidnappings. It appeared that Brooklyn was not
ordered killed after all, but the pain from the poison was strong enough that even with all her
built up pain tolerance, she was almost paralyzed on the floor with its ache.

It took a lot for Brooklyn not to scream as it was, but reaching for a phone would be useless.
Had she not turned off FRIDAY to talk to Damian, maybe it could've called someone. But it
wasn't just the burning ache in her body keeping Brook there, it was also the fear of Ivan's
move against her.

As she laid there, Brooklyn couldn't help but worry over any small sound, fearing it was more
assassins. If more came, Brook would not be able to fight, not unless the small bit of
immunity to various poisons and toxins would kick in soon.

Her only solace was that the Red Room did not often risk sending more than one assassin to
get a job done, and clearly they had underestimated her enough to think she'd stopped
training all these years. That assassin had expected to come across a girl who had settled into
her life without a thought of the past, its a good thing that wasn't true.

That small peace was only destroyed when she heard the main door open. Even doing so little
as moving her fingers shot fire down her veins, and those untreated dagger wounds on her
arm were not helping in the slightest.

The stun gun was too far out of reach...and it was with a chilling realization that Brook
recognized death was on its way.

Going back to the Red Room, even if they didn't publicly execute her....death would come by
in other ways.

But still, Brooklyn held back the tears as footsteps echoed down the hall louder and louder.

...

Then, a familiar face appeared in the living room, looking around with those doe brown eyes.

When he finally beheld her on the floor, a chair was covering the line of sight of the daggers,
so Pete gave her an odd look before asking, "I came to see if I could borrow your Chemistry
notes but...what are you doing on the floor? Ned is gonna be here soon"

It was with a relieved chuckle that Brooklyn sarcastically replied past the pain, "Oh nothing,
I'm just depressed"

Peter's eyes went wide for a few seconds.

"Oh, okay. Do you need to talk-"

A shot of pain made her gently reply back as if nothing was wrong, "Also, I was stabbed, can
you call for help?"

That quickly, Peter moved to crouch down beside her, and with a panicked gaze he beheld the
two small daggers peeking out of her arm. Then the small cut on her cheek just by her hair
line.

"Oh my god what happened!?" he asked frantically, moving to get rid of the daggers when
she practically yelled at him to leave them because they were poisoned.

Even when he'd explained the circumstances of his powers during a trip to Oscorp years ago,
Brooklyn still wasn't willing to bet on said enhanced spider abilities to block out poison.

So Peter began to panic again, "I can go get some gloves or, wait where is the person that
attacked you!?"
Brooklyn shifted her eyes towards the small clump of curtains by the couch where an
assassin was carefully wrapped like a burrito, still unconscious.

Before she could instruct her friend to call Tony, a noise came from behind her where the
balcony was.

Too immersed in pain, the girl could not look back to see what other assassin Ivan had sent
this time.

"Peter!" Brooklyn yelled frantically, only to be stopped by her friend's unpanicked expression
at what was behind her. Well, perhaps not unpanicked, but Pete did not seem like he was face
to face with an enemy.

When the person spoke up, Brooklyn's muscles relaxed.

"What happened here, Parker?" Damian asked, sounding out of breath.

Peter was still nervous around the Wayne even after so many times fighting crime together.
Maybe it was just because of the aura Damian had about him, such a contrast to Pete's
personality. Either way, her best friend began to mumble incoherently as someone else
crouched by her side.

The first thing Brooklyn saw was his cowl mask, then the Robin suit that looked to be hastily
put on. Unlike Peter, Damian took time to examine the visible wounds, frowning before
guessing just as quickly as she had, "Strychnine poisoning. She's under extreme pain"

"Yeah, something like that" Brook mumbled, barely hearing when Damian commanded Peter
to bring him a few towels from the kitchen and the first aid kit.

"Where is the kit, Brook?" Peter asked from the distance, seemingly still panicking.

Damian had removed his mask by now, keeping his gaze on her arm and the bundle curtains
before answering, "Its in the hall bathroom you idiot, hurry! Top drawer"

"You remembered that huh?" Brook whispered, "What are you doing here?"

Damian scoffed, placing her aching head on his folded legs as he replied, "You seemed to be
in trouble, what else was I supposed to do?"

"How did you sneak past your brothers anyways?" Brooklyn said, bitting back a scream of
pain as she added, "I thought no matter what you did to escape the manor, they always caught
you"

Her nemesis shrugged, "They did catch me sneaking out, but this time I went through them.
Jon is busy keeping them at bay, they don't know I'm here"

He had fought his brothers to come help?

Had Brooklyn not been under immense pain, she might've made a joke about that, or maybe
even dared to thank him. She'd assumed that after the way their talk ended an hour or so ago
that Damian would've forgotten about her entirely.

When Peter came back with the stuff, Damian removed the daggers with the kitchen towels
slowly, then turned to her for instructions on what to do next. It was then that she was
reminded Damian was not skilled in the art of wound healing.

As she gave instructions on how to at least stop the bleeding and prevent infection, Damian
shouted Peter into action to call her family.

Peter was busy in the kitchen doing just that, doing his best to block out the screams of pain
Brook could no longer keep at bay with hydrogen peroxide being doused on her cuts.

Hopefully her dad wouldn't be able to hear them.

As the wounds were being cleaned and the pain of the poison remained in her veins, Damian
at least seemed somewhat calm, enough to ask, "Who did this?"

Brooklyn again looked to the bundle of curtains before whispering, "Red Room"

Damian's movements halted, his focused gaze moving to where the assassin laid unconscious.
One of the Wayne's hands moved to get one of his discarded katanas on the floor, but
Brooklyn's voice was just loud enough to say, "Don't"

Her nemesis looked to be consumed by anger, "Why not? She tried to kill you, its only fair I
return some of that pain in kind. Besides, if anyone is gonna kill you one day, that will be
me"

A chuckle escaped her, a very small but painful one.

Later, once she was back to herself, Brooklyn would let herself ponder on the fact that
Damian Wayne was worried about her, that he wanted to fight on her behalf.

But now she just whispered, "She's just like us. We can't kill her"

Damian still looked like he was about to chop the assassin to pieces, until Brooklyn said
some words she'd once heard him speak with great pride, "Justice not vengeance,
remember?"

Like a bucket of ice water, Damian dropped the katana and after a few calming breaths, he
went back to cleaning the wounds as Peter returned to the room with the news that the
Avengers were on their way to discretely get her out of the apartment.

The demon did not let Peter help with the wounds, he just told him to put his enhanced skills
to good use by making sure no one else was hanging around for an ambush.

After inspecting the apartment and the area around them, Peter came back with the news that
nothing was amiss.

Still the pain of her injuries could not compare to the lingering feeling of Ivan possibly being
around.
Damian did the best he could for the injuries, and by the time Peter announced the Avengers
were close, Brooklyn told Damian to hide.

"Come hide in my apartment" Peter ushered, handing over a key and shouting a door number
to the Wayne as he added, "Brook's family will inspect the apartment for sure, its best that
you aren't found in it"

Brooklyn couldn't help but agree, yet she still whispered to the enemy by her side, "I'll let you
know when I'm all good, we still have rehearsals tomorrow after all. God, you probably won't
be able to look at me the same way now, probably thinking I'm weak"

Despite her attempt to ease the tension, Damian still frowned, being surprisingly gentle to set
her down into Peter's awaiting arms.

He hesitated slightly before that, shooting Peter a glare to back away as he whispered, "Of
course I don't think your weak because of this, you're one of the strongest people I know you
idiot. Otherwise you wouldn't be a worthy rival"

Even when she knew the pain that would come, she still chuckled, but tucked that bit of
praise into her soul for later as he handed her over to a nervous Peter.

Before leaving the apartment, Damian shouted back, "I'll stay in Parker's loft until you leave,
but then I'm going back to Gotham. If you find any more Red Room scums, Jon, Parker, and I
will take care of them"

Once in a shared bedroom in a farm, Damian had promised that he would not let the Red
Room take her, but it wasn't until know that she realized that statement had been completely
serious. It was enough to ease some of her nerves.

It was honestly ridiculous that someone as annoying as Damian was able to ease her mind at
a time like this. How messed up as the world huh?

By the time Peter began whispering reassurances and keeping a weary eye on the knocked
out assassin, Brooklyn had began to feel the pull of sleep.

Just as a red and gold metal suit burst through the balcony, with fuzzy figures that looked like
the War Machine suit and Falcon's wings, Brook could no longer keep her eyes open and
succumbed to sleep.

She still heard her dad's panicked voice, but it was like a whisper under water at that point.

*******

"Are you sure you can stand sestra ?" Natasha asked with arms raised in case Brooklyn fell
back down to her chair.

The teen smiled, assuring her and the other adults hovering around her that all was well.
After Uncle Banner had treated her half an hour ago, Brooklyn felt back to her old self, only
with slight discomfort from the small dagger punctures.
Since she'd woken up in the medical wing of the Avenger's compound, everyone had been
fussing like this. Brook's dad specifically, who was now by her side brushing back strands of
her loose hair fondly.

He'd been the first face she'd seen when consciousness gripped her back. Tony had been teary
eyed, then along with Pepper, both adults had hugged Brooklyn till someone suggested she
needed to breathe.

Though he was no longer crying, Brook's dad looked just as troubled as he had been earlier.
Now, as the two of them stared at the glass before them, Brooklyn let herself be consumed
into a side hug.

On the other side of the two way mirror lay a thrashing assassin, blonde hair messily before
her eyes as she continued to scream Brooklyn's name, or rather her old name, in Russian.
Over and over, those numbers were said with such disgust.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna go in there and give that assassin a piece of my
mind" Wanda said, scarlet wisps of magic already pooling at her fingertips.

Looking into the empty white room, Brooklyn couldn't help but flinch at the annunciation of
each number, but still replied, "She'd like that, that girl in there is trained to be ready to die
just to kill. You guys can try and torture answers out of her all day, for weeks, but she won't
budge"

Nat nodded beside her in confirmation, earning pitying glances from all the Avengers in the
observation room.

Hesitantly, Tony asked, "Were you trained to withstand that too?"

Brooklyn could only nod, recalling the times of the past when both she and the assassin in
that room were just kids. In the Red Room, the days can pass you by without knowing. No
one had a calendar or a clock, the only way to know a year had passed was by torture.

Every year, trainees were tortured intensively twice. Once half way to their brith date, and
then on the actual day of their birth. Each time, the torture got longer and worse until one no
longer fought the visit to the dark cave-like room.

Eventually, Brooklyn had no longer feared going in there, she had not dreaded the pain
because she was ready for it.

That had only been a small amount of years compared to the ones the girl inside the white
room probably had. She would not give up anything on Ivan, no good Black Widow ever
would. All that teen wanted was Brooklyn, that was her whole purpose.

In a voice barely above a whisper, Brooklyn said, "She is my age, just graduated the Red
Room then. This is her first mission, I am her first mission. This is what I would've become if
I had stayed with Ivan"
Her dad's arms wound tighter around Brook as he said, "So we let her go? Is that what you're
suggesting? She tried to kill you!"

Natasha placed hand on Brook's arm, then added, "Brook is that girl's mission, one she failed.
I know you don't want her dead or incarcerated Rosa, neither do I. But if she goes back to
Ivan now, he will kill her anyways"

That was true.

If she doesn't go back with her mission fulfilled then they will kill her.

"Then let me go in and talk to her" Brooklyn said, moving out of Tony's and Nat's embraces
to head towards the door, one Grandpa Steve stood in front of with arms crossed.

"She tried to kill you. I'm not even sure if it's safe to go in there, she already hurt five agents
before reinforcements were brought in to strap her down" the captain said, gaze softening at
the words.

Brooklyn found his worrying endearing, but she knew full well it would take a Black Widow
to speak to another, and Natasha had not know that girl in their youth.

With a sigh, Brooklyn looked around the room full of Avengers, most sitting on the couches
around the large space full of monitors.

Fury was leaning against the main door, looking pissed as usual but making no move to stop
Brook.

"The thing is, I think I owe her" Brooklyn confessed, "That day I left the Red Room...she was
there right beside me before I left the room, but she stayed and followed orders. Had I
thought of convincing more of those girls to get away, had I not been so selfish...then that
assassin would not be in that room today"

From the main couch, Sam snorted, "Like they would've listened. I met a watered down
version of your assassin self and she was still very difficult. Are you sure talking to her now
will help?"

Maybe.

"She just needs to understand that the world isn't how Ivan painted it" Brook argued gently,
clutching her arm slightly when a faint sting of pain lingered, then added, "That, or we can
drop her off out into the world for Ivan to kill."

The room was silent, everyone thinking through the options before them. They knew what
Brooklyn did, that the girl in there would not talk to any of them, she hadn't so far. Brooklyn
was the best choice to go in, and in the young Stark's view, Natasha was a last resort wild
card.

It was Tony who moved to stand beside her, clutching her shoulders gently as he said, "If you
wanna give it a go, then the floor is yours Daphne. But if I see that assassin make one wrong
move your way, we're going in"
Brooklyn was thankful with her father's words, the fact that he trusted her to do the right
thing still after getting grounded, the girl had feared Tony would resent her somehow. But he
had made it very clear these past couple of days of how proud he was that Brooklyn felt the
need to do something about all the bad stuff going on.

Would he have preferred she stayed safe? Yes. But given her background and recent training,
dad was just glad Brooklyn was taking the hero route.

Pissing off the Joker...that she had gotten yelled at for. Being around a Wayne had been seen
as something to be pitiful of, but the need to keep her as far away from that family remained.

None of those things had sway today though. Tony recognized she was the best for this job,
and if there was even the slightest chance to save that girl in there, then Brook knew her dad
would try to take that route.

With a small smile on her face, Brooklyn hugged her dad, then gestured for Grandpa Steve
and Uncle Rhodey to open the heavy door leading into the interrogation room.

It was time to face the past once more, but this time, she'd do it as Brooklyn Stark.

She just hoped her family would not judge her too harshly for any secrets told in that room or
confessions made. But she trusted them to see past it...she had to.

****

The room was bright, walls lined with soft fabric to prevent the prisoner from somehow
harming themselves.

To Brook's left was the large window that looked to be a normal mirror, but the Stark knew
her family was watching intently on the other side, ready to come to her rescue should she
require it.

It was nice...knowing that people cared if you lived or died. To know you had something to
lean on, even if that category also included someone as oddly out of place like Damian
Wayne.

Why he had risked the wrath of his father and further punishment for even the slightest
chance that she was in danger...she had no clue. Even the peace of the pain meds had no
answer for that.

Steeling her nerves, Brooklyn made herself visible from the corner of darkness by the door,
her feet walking along the soft ground in silence as the blonde looked up from her metal
chair. Those green eyes, so unlike those of a certain Wayne, beheld each step Brooklyn took
like a predator assessing a next meal.

Still, Brook kept her unease at bay as she strode in confidently, making sure none of her
movements showed a single sign of the poison that had been in her body half an hour ago.

If there is one thing the Red Room valued, it was strength. Brooklyn would not leave room
for anything else.
Since the assassin didn't make a move to say a thing, Brooklyn muttered lazily, "I hope you
don't mind if we converse in English today? I find Russian makes situations like these seem
very...formal"

The teen laughed darkly, and with a raspy voice that still had that hint of a Russian accent
said, "Ivan's little pet. It seems your skills have not lessened away from home"

Ivan's little pet....

Trying to rile her up, smart move. But not a bait Brooklyn felt like falling into today.

"It seems that your training improved as well" Brook pointed out, leaning on the cushioned
wall while inspecting a few of her nails, "I presume you graduated this year?"

The assassin smirked, "I did. Too bad you didn't get to. Ivan would've been pleased to see his
daughter leave the nest with honor, especially after thinking you dead all these years"

Brook felt her brow twitch slightly, but she reigned her fear and anger while stating loud and
clear, "Ivan is not my father"

The blonde settled back in her chair, those arms held together by metal restraints on the arm
rest wiggled a little bit as if she were trying to shake them off. Still, the teen did not mind the
equally restrictive position of her legs as she seemed to make herself at home.

"Once a daughter of Ivan, always a daughter of the Red Room" she replied wickedly, "I still
remember our younger years where he paraded you like a trophy. You were supposed to lead
us all one day remember? He made sure you were the most skilled and cruel of the
bunch...oh, should I have not said that in front of your friends watching us now? Do they
know who lives among them, the spider trapping them into her web?"

Breath in. Breathe out.

She was not that girl anymore. Brooklyn was an agent of SHIELD, a Stark with a wonderful
family, amazing friends, and a team that fought for those less fortunate.

Those words would not strike her like the daggers from earlier, not today.

Brook eyed the girl with scrutiny, circling around the chair silently in an effort to shift the
control back to herself. This was a game of wits, a dance of words that moved like chess
pieces on a board.

Stopping before the restrained teen, Brooklyn scanned her from head to toe. That white
jumpsuit was the exact opposite of the one they had both worn in the Red Room, which had
been gray or black, stained with blood and sin.

Brook had to at least try to keep this one clean from now on.

"I am not Ivan's heir any longer. Those days are behind me, now I live with my family, and I
will follow the Stark legacy to the end of my days" Brooklyn admitted, "Were I still Ivan's
puppet, you'd be dead for your attempt on my life"
The Russian smirked, "They really did a number on you, huh sestra? The lion is gone, only a
small cat remains. And to think you could withstand all forms of torture only to break? Ivan
would be disappointed"

Interesting.

So that small threat had worked to reveal some information at least. Ivan did not know Brook
had fled by her own will. He originally thought Brook as dead, now, he likely thought she
had been brainwashed by her own family.

Perhaps this talk would prove fruitful after all.

With a smirk, Brooklyn moved back to the wall she had originally leaned on, placing her
hands on the soft pockets of Pete's sweats.

Her friend had gone back to make sure Damian had left undetected, but he'd given Brook
some sweats and a lightsaber hoodie to change into once Bruce had released her from the
med wing.

His clothes probably did very little to intimidate the assassin before her, but the SHIELD
brand on the sweats was at least clear enough to state where her loyalties were.

As smoothly as she could, the Stark made herself look relaxed and unbothered, eyes finally
settling back on the smirking assassin.

This next conversation was a bargain, it could either incite curiosity, or Brooklyn could end
up good as dead in this teen's eyes.

So she chose her words carefully, thinking over them a few times before stating, "When the
attack happened, I did not leave to help our people. I had long since learned of many lies we'd
been told since we were young, enough so that I knew I had to see the world for myself. You
may not believe it sestra, but I left freely"

The blonde seemed to be shaken off her game, eyes wide and fists clenched as those taunting
green eyes turned into something more assessing.

"You betrayed us?"

"They betrayed me" Brook countered, "All those years of pain and suffering, shoving lies
down out throats about the righteousness of killing...that was not the way any of us should've
lived"

The teen scoffed, "What other way is there? We were chosen to become the world's deadliest
and most elite assassins. What greater honor and responsibility is there?"

"Thats the thing," Brook said, "we have to choose between what is right, and what is easy. I
have found that it is very easy to kill, but it is not effortless to save and protect. The Black
Widow program is meant to benefit only a handful of Russian operatives, but it would be
incredibly more honorable to work to save everyone else"
10453 seemed to be considering her words, looking for patterns of lies in Brook's voice no
doubt, but the teen had been honest with her words. It had been puzzle pieces of the truth
she'd been begging to piece together since the day she became a Stark after all.

"You parade around in dresses for the world to see you" the assassin argued, "What good is
that to the world?"

Ah yes, Brook must seem like someone with no purpose now. Luckily, Brooklyn had been
figuring that out too.

"Thats only one side of my life" the Stark admitted with a smile, "My least favorite if I'm
being honest, but I plan to do a lot of good with Stark Industries in the future, for that I need
the world to get to know me. SHIELD is the other side of that coin, the part that will let me
defend people with the skills that were once meant to kill and destroy"

The small room was quiet, the girl looking down at her lap as if she were having an inner
battle with herself. She knew what torturing and brainwashing were supposed to look like,
and 10453 knew this wasn't it.

Disorienting, this must be awful for her.

"Why tell me this? Why leave the Red Room? You could've had an empire at your feet,
become one of the most feared assassins in the world. No one gives up power for nothing"

Brooklyn chuckled at the words, playing with the ends of her red hair as she thought back to
all the promises Ivan and her mother had whispered in her ear once upon a time.

"Well, it just didn't feel right to be living a lie. I find there is more power being in control of
your life than being puppeteer by someone else" Brook confessed, watching the assassin's
gaze shift to the mirror to her right.

"And those people, do they not puppeteer you? Are you not here trying to get answers out of
me for their sake?"

"No" Brook said casually, "They actually didn't want me to come in, and I know for a fact
you have no idea what Ivan is planning or where he is now. He never sends out assassins with
valuable information at hand. I'm only here because you tried to kidnap me, and I want to
help you"

The blonde sat up straighter in her metal chair, bursting into a dark and cunning laugh that
was likely the only one she knew. Broken, that assassin was likely as injured as Brook was,
twice and confused and likely four times as angry.

A product of Ivan.

"Why help me? You should just kill me" the assassin spat out.

Brooklyn moved towards the door, but made no move to open it as she said, "I don't kill, not
any more. And I want to help you because I owe you. Though our younger years can't
possibly be classified as a childhood, you were still the girl who slept beside me since birth.
We trained together, survived years of pain, and though we fought many times by orders, I
never had anything against you"

She smirked, "I actually thought about killing you in our sleep quite a few times to take your
golden place beside Ivan. Someone always managed to beat me to it though"

Despite the darkness of the words and the violence they admitted to, both girls smilier
genuinely at one another as if they just shared a fond memory of the past.

"You never helped any of the girls who tried to kill me though" Brook argued, "By Red
Room standards, you might as well have been a friend"

Now in a less hostile tone, the blonde replied, "You were too skilled to kill. I was not going to
become another still body beside your bed"

Though that had probably been meant as a compliment, Brooklyn felt the cold unease across
her body at the memory of all the sestras she'd had to leave bleeding to death by her bedside
after being woken up with a foot into the realm of the dead.

Brook did not dare look towards the glass at the thought.

"You know....you don't have to go back to all the killing, fear of dying by those around you.
Staying here is not so bad, you could find a new purpose, find real friends, maybe even a
family" Brook said slowly, making sure each word sounded as genuine as her heart felt.

10453's amusement seized then, eyes in a far away look as she said softly but not weakly, "I
cannot have a family"

The Stark's heart picked up at the memory of another Red Room cruelty she'd been spared
from. 10453 was not saying she would not want a mother and father, but that she could not
have children. She'd graduated, received the ceremony that came along with it...

That procedure was not only for practicality's sake, but a reminder that a Widow never settled
down, that peaceful happiness was not in an assassin's future.

Brooklyn had been lucky to leave when she did, but 10453 had not been granted that same
luck. But becoming a daughter, a friend, and more recently...a sister, it was the greatest joy int
he world that Brook couldn't put into words.

There were still many ways to be happy.

"I know" Brook confessed into the quiet room, "But you can settle down in other ways. For
instance, you can train to become part of SHIELD. Thats an honest way to live that actually
pays very well. You can have enough money to live comfortably, and unlike me, you already
have the advantage of having someone around who understands it all, someone who grew up
with you and is willing to be a helping hand"

The Stark wasn't really sure if SHIELD, well Fury, would be willing to grant those wishes.
Brook wasn't even sure they would dare to let the assassin leave this small room. But this
teen before her needed a dream, something to work towards to leave the past behind right
now.

"Just because life worked out for you doesn't mean it will for me" the blonde said annoyedly,
"You are a one in a million fluke"

Those were the words Brooklyn had been waiting for.

"Not the only one actually" she said, knocking on the door twice before it opened with
Natasha already making her way inside. The Widow was relaxed, shooting Brooklyn a wink
of praise before moving into the light to be seen by the teen.

"I would agree completely if Brooklyn had been the only one, but having two of Ivan's
closest trainees leave him seems like a very big sign that that life was not right, don't you
think sestra?" Natasha said, moving to lean on the wall with Brook by her side.

Both Russians stared at the confused prisoner for a few seconds before Nat introduced herself
by her birth name, one famous in the Red Room as the golden example to strive towards, one
of another widow thought dead in battle.

Once 10453 realized she was in the presence of the one and only Natalia Alianovna
Romanova, it seemed as if all the fight left her body. Two legends of the Red Room standing
there, working for whom the blonde must've been informed where the enemies...well, it was
not looking so good for Ivan after all.

It only took an explanation of both their thoughts of leaving the Red Room and their paths
towards a better future for the assassin to seem at least more convinced to stay. She asked
questions, which was a good sign. The blonde also seemed at least slightly pleased to hear
that death did not await her in SHIELD's hands.

"Rosa and I know what its like" Natasha confessed, "Its not something you can decide to
leave in a day. But when you feel comfortable with your decision, we will both be here to
make it easier. Ivan will not kill you as long as we both live"

The assassin questioned, "Rosa?"

Silly to think she had not introduced herself after all this personal talk. The Stark smiled
before saying proudly, "I'm Brooklyn Rosa Stark now. Natasha gave me the middle name
when she brought me to this country, a gift for a new life. Would you like a name of your
own?"

10453 must've thought it as such an odd concept just as Brooklyn had years ago. Yet she
remained quiet, not once refusing the offer even when she hadn't verbally accepted it.

Brooklyn decided to take a leap, knowing full well the assassin would not be eager to come
up with a name for herself.

"In fact, I have the perfect name for you for your bright and new beginning. What about
Yelena?" Brooklyn suggested, almost sighing with relief when the assassin seemed to test out
the name silently with her chapped lips.

Yelena was a name of Russian origins meaning bright and shining one, which Brook had
planned to use as a backup identity years ago should she had to flee.

And perhaps to help ease the sense of detaching from her whole life, maybe a Russian
surname would help retain some form of comfort?

Brooklyn smiled, as happily as genuinely as she could as she announced, "Yes, thats it.
Yelena Belova"

The teen went wide eyed at the common Russian last name, the origins of a home she had
lived in for sixteen years.

"You really think a new name will make it all better?" the assassin asked mockingly, to which
Brooklyn replied, "Of course not, but I'd say its a good place to start. So would you prefer I
call you 10453 or Yelena?"

The assassin sat in silence for a few seconds in which neither Brook and Nat even dared to
breath wrong. It was a simple name, yes, but it was a way to determine the willingness to
make a change.

In the Red Room, you are nothing, meant to be a disposable vessel for a 'greater good'.
Taking a name was like finally becoming something whole, of admitting you had value
outside who controlled you. It was not something Brook had taken lightly, and the assassin
clearly wasn't either.

After a few seconds, the blonde sighed, and though her facial expression was still weary, her
eyes were clear as she said, "Yelena is not so bad, I see my attempts to kill you did not hinder
your brain after all devushka Stark"

Miss Stark. Ok not first name basis but not a bad start.

Fighting the urge to celebrate her small victory, Brooklyn merely nodded, then accepted Nat's
gesture as both girls made it to the door with the promise of a warm meal for Yelena.

Perhaps it would take a while for the teen to be deemed ready to leave the compound, but she
had made the biggest leap already.

Once back in the observation room, Brooklyn was embraced tightly by two pairs of arms
belonging to Pepper and Tony, both on whom where whispering praises of bravery and pride
in her actions. One look from a stoic Fury said that Yelena would be ok, which helped her
nerves ease up for sure.

Just as Brooklyn was about to return the embrace, she noticed another figure standing a little
further back staring at them.

It was Harley...
He did seem much better than the last time they'd seen each other personally. The funeral had
likely helped with closure, and the friendliness of the Avengers and Wanda's cooking
certainly made it seem like color had retuned to his skin. But he was shyly looking at the
embracing Starks as if not sure if he could join.

Brook had meant what she thought about family, and though she had yet to get to know this
new brother of hers, she was more than willing to try now a days. So without any hesitation,
Brooklyn extended an arm out towards him, watching as he almost sobbed while rushing into
the group hug.

Within her embrace, Harley whispered, "You almost died? She almost killed you?"

So he'd heard that last bit.

Brook smirked, resting her head on her father's arm as she looked at her sibling, "Yelena was
exaggerating. I'm good...thank- thank you for caring"

The blonde teen did not seem eased as she replied wearily with ounces of fear, "Please dont. I
cant loose my new sister, even if its not official yet. I can't lose you"

She was moved by his words, enough so to pull him closer, much to the joy of her parents as
they ruffled his hair and dried the small tears on the boy's eyes.

The Stark was still careful to make sure no one's hands would linger too much on her back,
even when Peter's hoodie was thick enough to hide traces of the scars of her skin. But she
melted into the hug nonetheless...that was until she caught sight of the papers on Pepper's
hands. They looked important, very official.

Could it have anything to do with Yelena's fate?

Pushing back slightly, Brooklyn asked, "What are those?"

Tony moved back from the hug, standing atop a nearby chair as he addressed the room of
Avengers who had been staring with smiles in the sidelines till now.

"Speaking of officialness! Some very important documents arrived today!" Her otets
announced, ignoring Pepper's half hearted scolding for the dramatics as he pointed at the
folded papers.

But Brook's mom showed the cover to the room.

Those...those were Harley's adoption papers.

The boy seemed like he would cry again, but ended up whispering, "Are you guys sure you
want to be my parents?"

Both Tony and Pepper hugged the sweet kid who had perhaps been through too much with a
lost mother and a father who left him. They reassured him of course, and by the time Brook,
Tony, Pepper, and Harley had signed the papers, the room burst into cheers, welcoming
Harley Stark into the family with all the chaotic gusto only the Avengers could bestow.
Brooklyn had been in the midst of hugging her new brother when Tony quieted the crowd,
but it was Pepper who spoke in Brook's direction, voice kind and eyes lined with fresh tears.

"Sweetie," Pepper said, clutching what Brooklyn had assumed to be papers belonging to
Harley's documents in hand, "I know officially you are Tony's daughter, and though he and I
are engaged, I was wondering if you would want to officially become my daughter as well?"

Brooklyn felt a dizzying wave overtake her, enough that she had to sit down for a second.

Pepper added, "I already see you as my daughter no matter how official it is, and if you are
not ready to sign these now, thats ok too. But I asked Tony to get these because you are part
of my world now...and I would be honored to be part of yours"

Brooklyn did not cry often, if fact, she could could count the amount of times she had cried in
her life with just one hand... but in that moment the warm tears flowed down her cheeks
freely, not in pain, but in heart clenching joy.

Without letting Pepper continue her nervous rant, Brook leaped off the chair and tackled her
mom into a hug while whispering "Of course I want to become your daughter! Nothing
would make me happier!"

Brook actually felt as if she had to fight the urge to quickly grab the papers and sign them as
rapidly as possible. But she let her dad guide her thought the signatures slowly with a bit of
pride oozing out of his aura as well.

By the time the last stroke of a pen was finished, Brooklyn felt whole.

The Starks stared at one another in silence for a few seconds, only to burst into chuckles
before hugging once more, this time with the other Avengers joining in at last.

Even though she had class tomorrow, Brooklyn stayed in the compound a little longer to
celebrate the adoption with a meal from Grandpa Steve and Wanda, only leaving with the
promise to return during the weekend for a proper celebration of not only the adoption but
her SHIELD agent accomplishment.

Even Happy was in high spirits by the news of the adoptions, living up to his name during the
whole car ride for once. He had still scolded her for almost dying though, and promised a
world of new security measures coming her way.

Brook was too busy riding the high of the events of today to care much about it though, but
perhaps once that was over, she'd banter with him about overusing his badge as head of
security.

Once back in her apartment, Brooklyn ignored the fallen decorations that were evidence of
the attack from earlier. Instead she texted Peter that all was well and that she'd see him
tomorrow bright and early. He'd replied with a long text expressing his worry but also his
congratulations of the adoption which Tony had already informed Peter of.

She tried not to let those words linger on her mind for too long...
When she made it back to bed, lit only by the glow of the star stickers above her, Brooklyn
only hesitated for a few seconds before reaching for the walkie-talkie that was resting by her
drawer.

Now clad in warm pjs, Brooklyn settled under the covers and pressed the signal button.

"I guess this means you're back home and otherwise not seriously injured. It would've been a
pain to do the school play with your understudy" Damian said as a way of greeting to which
Brook laughed at.

"Thank you for those kinds words of comfort. It eases me knowing my worst enemy worried
about my well being"

Damian scoffed, "I just don't want to act with Mildred Gomez. Jon said she was planning on
ruining my perfectly peaceful lunch time tomorrow for a stupid question"

That Brook hadn't head of...

Of course bright and energetic Mildred would try and ask out Damian thinking she could
succeed unlike all the unfortunate girls before her. In all honesty, Brook would be shocked if
said girl did not try to get the Stark injured at some point to take the role of Romea.

At least high school squabbles were less deadly than assassin ones.

"So I'm guessing that means you'll say no to her advances? Did you dad punish you further
today that a date is impossible to accept?" Brooklyn asked, half-joking while some part of her
did feel the slightest bit guilty.

Another part was just hoping she wouldn't catch Mildred kissing Damian at school, how
fucking weird and gross would that be? Yeah...Brook would rather be paralyzed in pain
instead.

"My punishment couldn't get more severe than it already was" Damian confessed, "but you
will likely be pleased to know that as the closest thing to punishment my father can bestow, I
am now to train more with Todd"

Ah yes, the Red Hood who did not adhere to the no killing Wayne laws. From previous
conversations, Brooklyn had found that the only sibling Damian hated more than Jason Todd
was the company golden child, Tim Drake.

At least he'd escaped a punishment with the genius of the Waynes. Damian would've never
forgiven her for that.

Fighting the comfort that often came with talking with her nemesis after a long day, Brooklyn
once again convinced herself that talking to said boy was nothing more than getting to know
him for the sake of 'knowing your enemy to defeat your enemy'. She knew he had the same
logic as her in that regard, which made this all the easier.

"Training with the Red Hood," Brooklyn mused with a smirk, "Something tells me you'll end
up making him more miserable than anything he could even bestow upon you"
"That is likely true" Damian said, then his voice quieted down before lowering to a serious
tone, "It was the Red Room that targeted you then? Ivan lives?"

She'd been fighting the impulse to forget those small little details, trying to focus more on her
new family to really let that truth sink in. Of course, as soon as Brook got home, she
activated every security measure available, and Damian's dagger and an alien gun were
tucked under her pillows just in case.

With a long and tired sigh that came from dread of about nine years, Brooklyn replied softly,
"It would appear so. That assassin was sent to take me back to him, and I don't think it was to
die, which is probably the worst outcome I can think of"

The sounds of a cat purring nearby sounded on the other end of the line as Brook stared up at
the cluster of stars on her ceiling. Had she been taken, Brooklyn would've never been able to
see them again...

Instead of saying something that really drove that fear back into her heart, Damian said, "On
my thirteenth birthday I was sent a package by my grandfather, who is part of the League. It
was a dead robin"

Brooklyn had no idea the Wayne's roots in the League went back generations. What was even
more shocking was the fact that someone would do something like that. A dead robin...there
was no other way to interpret that than for what it was.

A death threat.

Though she often liked to amuse herself thinking Damian was a heartless demon, she knew
he at least cared about animals a great deal. That must've been...unpleasant for him.

"Is there any particular reason you brought that up now? Or are you trying to add on to the
nightmares I'll surely have tonight?" she asked.

Damian's voice was strong as sure as he replied, "I'm telling you because I discovered it was
a warning from a distant cousin of mine from the league. She had chosen me as her prey, part
of an initiation ritual she had to undertake in order to properly join the League of
Assassins...to lead the Demon's Fist group"

Brooklyn almost shot up in bed at the mention of that name.

Amongst the assassin community, it was well known that the famous Ra's al Ghul was
planing to form a group of elite at one point, one that would even become a threat to any and
all assassin around the world.

Rumor had it, that such a group would be led by the secret grandson of the League's leader.
Ra's al Ghul, even dead now, did not seem like the grandfather type at all. But during the
attack on the League, it was common knowledge that said heir had died as well.

Damian must've been a very good assassin if he was deemed as a worthy death in exchange
to lead the Demon's Fist. Perhaps her nemesis would've been a part of that group had life
turned out different.

"So what you're getting at is that you were hunted by the people of your past as well"
Brooklyn realized, "Is this your way of telling me it all gets better?"

He chuckled darkly, "No. Its my way to reming you that we were both part of groups that
hate who we've become and that we are both hunted down by them, even me. We must
remain vigilant should both our old allegiances regain power. Because first they'll try to get
you back alive, and when that doesn't work, they'll try to kill you just as they did with me"

Brooklyn shuddered.

"What happened to this cousin of yours?"

She knew better than to think Damian had killed said cousin by now of course.

"She and the other wanna be Demon's Fist members are in a Justice League prison, one
where that Red Room assassin can be kept in should SHIELD be inadequate" he said
casually.

Brook did not bother explaining her quest to help said assassin, but was eased to know
Damian was truly willing to help, perhaps not for Brooklyn's sake, but because he knew the
dangers this held.

Thats when she caught his earlier wording. We must remain vigilant.

With a smirk, Brooklyn looked out her window as if she could see past the lights of the city
all the way to Gotham.

"You said 'we' earlier. Does that mean your little comment about keeping me from being
taken by Ivan holds true?"

She'd expected outright denial, maybe an insult or two, but his next words sent her calm
posture astray.

"Of course I meant it" he said as if it where the most obvious thing in the world, "You may be
insufferable, but I trust you to keep your promise to do good in the world now. It would be a
waste to see someone like that dead"

Maybe not the kindest of sentences, but underneath all that snark, there was a very small part
of the Wayne that seemed to say something different. Brooklyn just couldn't figure it out yet.

"Well..." god, Brooklyn would hate herself for doing this...."I suppose I should, you know,
properly thank you. That and for saying you at least trust me not to destroy the world."

The line went silent.

"Thank me, what for?" he asked.

 With honestly that could only come from delirious exhaustion after a long day, Brooklyn
replied easily, "Somewhere along the way, you decided I was worth saving. I wanted to
properly thank you for that, even if I still hate your guts"

Brooklyn was convinced there was no proper reply for such a stupid confession, one she was
already silently screaming at herself for.

Then he replied with what seemed to be just as much raw honesty as she had spoken with, "I
don't trust easily, so when I tell you I trust you, don't make me regret it"

She didn't trust easily either, but knowing Damian would at least do the bare minimum to
keep her alive, well....it made her trust him as well.

Such an emotion was nothing easy for an assassin, in fact, Brook was trying not to let the
weight of the highest praise one assassin could bestow upon another get to her.

"It appears that not only will you have to defend me from the Red Room, but I will have to
defy the League should they come looking for you. I trust you to keep your promise to do
good in the world too, it would be a shame to lose my nemesis after all" she replied

Now settling more comfortably on the bed, Brooklyn heard her nemesis whisper sleepily, "I
never thought I'd stand against a notable assassin organization for a Stark. Much less that
anyone would be willing to stand against the League that wasn't in this manor"

She chuckled at that, because they had just a greed to defy the two most dangerous assign
groups in the world for the sake of keeping their rivalry going.

If the day ever came that an assassin came for the demon, Brooklyn realized she too would
risk getting grounded to go help, and she knew that because they were now a...a team, and
Peter and Jon would be right beside her.

Survival. Thats what this was.

Not friendship, just two teens who recognized the value in one another to keep alive...yes,
that sounded right.

With one last chuckle at her own thoughts, Brook replied softly, "Then I guess I'll see you
tomorrow for rehearsals my 'esteemed' Julian Capulet"

As if Damian too had settled into bed, he replied back, "You better not look dead when I see
you tomorrow my 'beloved' Romea Montague. I refuse to act beside a walking corpse"

Though she didn't have the energy to reply to his idiotic comment, Brooklyn managed to fall
into sleep pretty easily, and when FRIDAY woke her up the next morning, she realized that
she'd actually slept peacefully the whole night.

Chapter End Notes

Finally I get to introduce Yelena!!!!!

I hope you guys are ready to see a lot more of the newest member of the Stark family,
because he should be showing up more soon!

What do you guys think of the teens emotional growth so far? Are you excited for the
play?

Anyways, I hope you are enjoying the story so far!

 The Bodyguard
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Ok.

Brooklyn was not idiotic enough to complain about extra security after all that happened
yesterday. What she hadn't expected was for Happy to arrive at the gates of the apartment
complex with a stranger lounging conformably in the passenger's seat.

Even Peter had been a little worried at first, though he did not dare voice it in front of Happy.
Brooklyn had no such reservations as she demanded an explanation over the sound of the
Downton Abbey soundtrack.

Because of almost being 'killed' yesterday, a SHIELD agent had been assigned to keep and
eye on Brook when she was not in the compound or at home. Normally, Brook would've
complained over such ridiculous notion, she was an assassin after all and had handled the
problem well-ishly.

But despite all its success, yesterday had been a sign, more like a rude wake up call, that the
Red Room was after Brook now, bold enough to make themselves known AND to make it
very clear that Ivan wanted her back to him alive.

So she dealt with the fact that Adonis, her old trainer and pain in the ass, hand-picked
someone of his rank and skills that the Avengers could trust (while they were busy with the
Joker) to babysit her.

That someone happened to be the person in the front seat.

Agent Johansen, a woman in her early twenties like her old instructor. Unlike Adonis, she
seemed kind so far, but took her job very seriously, enough so as to enroll at Midtown as a
senior over night in an effort to keep a better eye on Brook...

This so called Claire Johansen was lucky her young features and short stature made the lie
passable. But now, Brooklyn was left with a nanny all day long, likely for the rest of the year
unless Ivan was caught somehow.

To further her sense of annoyance, the agent explained on the ride to school that she had
purchased a flat not too far from where Peter and Brook lived. If there was ever an issue, no
matter how big or small, they were to call her immediately. After both teens reluctantly added
them woman to their contacts and agreed to rely on her help, Brook was seriously thinking of
taking this up with Fury.
She was Brooklyn Stark! Having a secret babysitter seemed like a bit much. She could've
lived with an extra alarm system, maybe some better monitoring around the apartments. But
this just seemed like a lot.

When Brook HAD dared suggest Ms Johansen was not needed, the woman kindly reminded
Brooklyn that SHIELD wise, she outranked the teen. Only when she surpassed her status
would Brooklyn be able to suggest orders.

Happy seemed to be pleased with the extra safety measure, especially since Agent Johansen
had also been Pepper's personal guard for a time, something Adonis had no doubt thought
would help with Brook's annoyed mood.

Not only was she grounded now, but she'd also be watched like a hawk..perfect.

By the time the car arrived to the school, Brooklyn had practically stomped out of the
vehicle, ignoring Happy's smug face while shooting a finger his way. Peter and Claire
followed out shortly after, and like clockwork, Alfred pulled up behind Happy's car as per
usual.

The Stark sent a quick wave at Alfred as always, but did not dare step forward in case this
Agent reported back to Tony. Looking comfortable around the enemy would only result in
more security...

When Jon practically rushed out the car to embrace her, no doubt worried about what had
happened with the Red Room assassin yesterday, Agent Johansen had quickly stepped before
Brook, pushing the half-kryptonian with ease onto the floor before the teen could even so
much as blink.

Brooklyn had cursed in Russian before practically prying the woman off Jon while saying,
"What the hell was that!? He's a...a classmate"

The brown eyed woman looked up at Brook with a raised brow, but let go of Jon regardless
so that she and Peter could check up on him. Though the Stark knew a simple tackle to the
floor would do nothing to seriously injure Jon for long, she still fussed over his scrapped arm
despite his reassurances that all was well and that it would be healed in minutes.

Thats when Damian got out the car, slowly and elegantly as he shot daggers at Agent
Johansen before helping Jon up from the floor. One look from Brook, and Damian seemed to
know that this wasn't the place or the time for a confrontation or explanation, something that
might've just saved the woman's life.

Brook tried to be as casual as possible as she said, "Sorry, Jon. She's a new student here and
has a bad case of the first day jitters" while pointing at a cross-armed Claire, who looked
nothing but nervous in her leather jacket and dark ensemble of jeans and combat boots.

The woman at least had the sense to be polite and apologize, which ended up sounding quite
genuine for a while before her strict facial features returned. With unfortunate greeting,
Brooklyn ushered Peter and Claire forward towards the school gates, only daring to look
back when Peter distracted the agent with offers of help.
Brook's eyes met the Wayne's, one hard look later, the Stark went back to listening to the
woman refusing said help.

Before parting ways, the agent made Brooklyn swear she would wait to leave school until
Claire met up with her. Apparently, the agent knew Brook's schedule like the back of her
hand by now, she also knew about decathlon practice...

"Its a small walk across the field towards the car, what could possibly happen?" Brooklyn had
argued, gesturing to the field around them.

Claire sighed, but gave both teens a hard look before replying with that sweet voice of hers
that should not belong to a SHIELD agent of her caliber, "You never know, both of you will
wait for me at the entrance of the school and thats final"

With that, the woman had sauntered into the school, seeming as though she hadn't talked to
the teens as all. Thankfully, Brooklyn caught sight of her friends in their usual spot by the
school stairs, greeting her without knowing she'd almost been captured yesterday or that she
had arrived today with a body guard.

Wanting to keep those high spirits up, Brook greeted her friends as usual, settling into the
debate of who'd win a fight between Yoda and Gandalf. It was all Peter's fault with all his
movie suggestions from the past few weeks that she was actually able to join in, made her
feel a bit silly but at least it was some normalcy after all that had occurred recently.

At some point during their discussion, the crowd around them turned quieter, moving to loud
whispers as they did everyday when Jon and Damian came into school, the light and dark
friendship duo.

The Stark watched as Damian and Jon passed by, but didn't dare change more than a passing
glare with them, neither had Peter. Instead, she gushed to her friends about the adoption
papers from yesterday, as if that was all that had happened of notable mention.

Agent Johansen had not come back out by the time the bell rang, but Brooklyn did catch her
eye as the woman made her way to the second floor for a senior level class. Motioning to the
phone in her hand, Brooklyn got the message easily.

Call if anything happens.

By the time she, Ned, Tanya, and MJ made it together to the school auditorium, Brook and
already sent a three paragraph text to her mom and dad about the new agent babysitter.

One simple and short reply from Pepper about how reliable and kind Agent Johansen was,
and Brooklyn realized she wouldn't be able to get out of this one.

Darn it.

At least Harley seemed to be the only sympathetic supporter in the Stark family group chat,
dad had just laughed at her and said something about it only being temporary thing. So
Brooklyn texted back quickly, promising to behave to her mom, expressing her thanks to her
brother (who was probably nervous about the upcoming press conference announcing him as
a Stark to the world), and an annoyed emoji to her dad along with a message to be careful in
California today for his assignment.

Brook had to focus on the day now, and it all started with possibly the most dreaded class of
the day...literature.

The one good thing about all this is mess was that Claire had not chosen to pass off as a
junior, otherwise she'd likely be stuck in most classes with Brook, and that would caused
some problems for sure. At least this way, the agent wouldn't be able to report back on the
unfortunate situation Brooklyn found herself in.

Once everyone filed into the stage, Brooklyn frantically searched around for a certain demon,
only to find him already surrounded by his club of fangirls as they spat compliments his way
and what not.

Fighting the urge to just scare them all to death, Brooklyn instead chose to do the smart thing
and grabbed two folders from the table near her. Sure enough, after confirming those were the
altered scripts for the play, Brook excused herself from her group of friends as everyone
excitedly gathered to get a hold of their own packet.

She and the Wayne needed to talk, and what a better way than to use this stupid play as an
excuse.

Plastering on the calmest expression she could muster, while leaving a bit of annoyance in
display, the teen sauntered over to Damian, who looked almost comically relieved to see her.
To others, it was just him frowning her way, but to the Stark, she could tell the slight micro
expressions of his face displayed more than that.

Ignoring the seven girls almost crowding him, Brooklyn waved at the papers in hand,
throwing one his way before saying, "I think its time we get this torture over with, lets review
the script"

To the girls horror, Damian did not spare them a single glance as he walked over to Brooklyn,
both settling at the edge of the stage a good distance apart to look indifferent, but close
enough to whisper without the crowd behind them listening in.

Both looked to the papers in their hands as Brooklyn whispered softly, "That person who
attacked Jon today is a SHIELD agent"

Damian did not lift his gaze from the papers in his own hands, but replied just as cautiously,
"I assume that's extra security after what happened yesterday? Will she be a problem for us?"

The Stark almost felt like correcting the use of the word 'us' in a sentence describing her and
Damian, but soon realized there was indeed an 'us' between them. They had yet to voice it out
loud, but Peter and Jon were right, the four of them were a team of sorts...

"I think we need to be more cautious, but she's passing off as a senior, we should be
unbothered most of the day" Brook replied, but still kept an eye out for said agent just in case
she deemed skipping class for the good of the Stark as an acceptable action.

Damian huffed, but did not complain as she'd expected him to do, in fact, he was silently
suggesting ways to be more stealthy should they need to leave school for an emergency.
When she'd asked how he could be so ok with all this, the demon replied, "At the very least,
that agent is a human shield between you and a Russian bullet"

The girl tried to hide her muffled laughter with a cough. Even though he'd expressed that he
was at least reminded of her safety every now and then, it was still odd to hear his concern in
a way that was so...Damian.

Before she could formulate her amusement into words, the teachers came into the class with
coffee in hand and an excited sparkle in their eyes, something most of the students with main
roles seemed to be mirroring.

All that did not die down when the teacher duo explained the fist act would be rehearsed
today just to 'get a feel' on the characters as well as get used to the stage. Both Brooklyn and
Damian had rolled their eyes at the mischievous, almost devil like smirks most teens
showered their way, as if they couldn't wait to see the two fail.

At least Brooklyn's friends stood by her, daring anyone to comment their thoughts.

They too had to do some practice today, at it was the teachers favorite who was called in first.

Friar Laurence, otherwise known as MJ, set about starting an introduction to the play along
with some background music from one of the movies.

She calmly described two noble households in the city of Verona, that held an 'ancient
grudge' against each other that remained a source of violent and bloody conflict. With a
smooth voice, MJ announced to the empty seats of the auditorium that from these two
houses, two 'star-crossed' lovers would appear, that these lovers would mend the quarrel
between their families.

Star-crossed....literally meaning, against the stars.

Stars that were thought to control people's destinies. The way MJ announced it, as if the
terrible fates of Julian Capulet and Romea Montague were set in stone from the beginning,
unable to be changed. It was a beautiful performance from the usually reserved girl, Brooklyn
was actually very proud.

The next scene did not involve Damian or Brooklyn yet, but was rather a demonstration
between the hatred of both families.

The characters Sampson and Gregory (played by two very tall students from her math class),
were two Capulet servants who, upon seeing two Montague servants approaching, provoked
them into a fight 'without breaking the law'.

In a move that almost seemed comical with the boys lack of acting skills, 'Sampson' bit his
thumb at the Montagues, a highly insulting gesture from the play the students couldn't help
but make fun of. Such a silly little move started a verbal confrontation, which quickly
escalated into a 'fight', which is more like teens pretending to hit one another.

Even Brook couldn't help but smile at the awful display.

Thats when Benvolio (one of Tanya's cheer friends), a kinsman to Brooklyn's family, enters
and draws her invisible sword in an attempt to stop the confrontation. Tybalt (one of Peter's
loud and bold bandmates), a kinsman Damian's house, made a show to look shocked, then
drew his own invisible weapon to the amusement of the students considering those two were
dating in real life.

Benvolio swears she is trying keep the peace, but stubborn Tybalt professed his hatred for
peace was as strong as his hatred for Montagues, and attacks. The silly brawl spreads, which
is the cue for another cluster of students that play mere citizens, to come into the scene
bearing invisible clubs to try and restore the peace by 'beating down' the combatants.

It was a silly enough display that even for just as second, Brook forgot the silliness of her
new babysitter and just laughed. Maybe this play wouldn't be all bad after all...

Thats when Lord Montague and Lady Capulet walked to the center stage with disgusted
looks on their faces, which was funny considering Ned and Tanya were obviously good
friends.

As their silly banter picked up, only their their 'spouses' prevented them from attacking one
another. Brooklyn had watched the interaction with a gleam in her eyes, when she wasn't
reminded of her part in the play, this was actually quite amusing, especially Ned's Lady
Capulet voice.

It isn't until one of the school council girls of Brook's class came in that the students stopped
their act of arguing. The loud and boisterous student with golden hair and blue eyes was
tasked with playing Princess Escalus, who's lines were relatively simple, otherwise she
might've stayed up on that stage for ages.

The Princess of Verona commanded the fighting stop on penalty of torture, forcing the
Capulets and Montagues throw down their weapons. The Princess, even declared as
confidently as she could that the violence between the two families had gone on for too long,
and proclaimed a death sentence upon anyone who disturbed the civil peace again.

Thank goodness that did not happen in real life, the closest to someone intervening with
family quarrels was Grandpa Steve's instance that the Waynes were not so bad when Tony
began complaining about 'Brucy' during a meal.

Once that scene had ended, the class seemed to be more hyped up than before, probably
because the stage lights were on and they got to have a fake brawl. The next act of the play
made Mrs. Pettel stand up from her director's chair, slowly wobbling over to the center stage
as she summoned Damian and Brook with a smile to her side.

Though the next scene did not involve the Wayne yet, he was called up to witness the scene
with the teachers as Brooklyn, Tanya, and her cheer mate (Benvolio) took the stage. Brook
had to fight the nervousness of seeing about three dozen pairs of eyes on her as she stood
there, waiting for Tanya to start the dialogue.

Tanya, ever the concerned father, spoke to Benvolio, who was also Romea's cousin. After the
two spoke their concerns over Romea's recent melancholy, the tall dark skinned cheerleader
approached Brook, confidently reading off the script.

"Why are you so solemn by cousin? it is not like you to walk alone among the sycamores like
this" Benvolio said.

Deciding this was the moment of truth to shown not only Damian, but the whole class, that
she was capable of something as mundane as acting, the girl quickly scanned the packet
before her, then without looking at its scripture she said sadly, "I am in love with Raymond,
but that he does not return my feelings, he has in fact sworn to live a life of chastity"

Her act of feigned sadness was enough to stun Emma 'Benvolio' for a few seconds, only for
the cheerleader to gather her wits and reply with a simple bit of advice. Forget the guy and
instead focus on all the other men the world had to offer. But Brooklyn's character was
unconsolable, insisting her love for that man was true.

Thats how that small scene ended, but it was enough for Brooklyn to smile in satisfaction as
she got no criticisms from the teachers and the awed expressions from her once doubtful
classmates. Even Damian, standing beside the teachers, looked towards her with no ounce of
smugness or dissatisfaction.

Summoned by the teachers to stand by their side along with the two excited cheerleaders,
Damian, Ned and Olivia (or rather Paris, a noble kinsman of the Princess) had to take their
turn on stage at last. The Stark watched as Damian slowly made his way over, seemingly
already annoyed with the situation.

Luckily for him, the fist part did not involve him at all, and he got to watch along with the
whole class as Paris expressed her desire to marry Lady Capulet's son.

Ned was usually a person who stood on the sidelines of conflict, but seeing him up there,
seemingly excited by the prospect of his son marrying that girl, it WAS slightly amusing.

"My son is still very young, so perhaps we should wait a few years. But you must know that I
favor you as a suitor, which is why I will give you the chance to woo my son at the
masquerade feast I'm holding tonight!" Ned said, which as Brooklyn's and Emma's cue to
come back in, seeing as if they were just listening in while Ned gave a list to another student.

Said student looked at the invisible letter in his hands, beholding the names of all those
invited to this masquerade. Thats when Romea and Benvolio walked by, Brooklyn still
seemingly sad and upset, which was not hard to fake considering she was still bothered by
the prospect of having a SHIELD nanny.

When Benvolio noticed Raymond's name was on the list, 'he' got the crazy idea to go, since
the the feast would be the perfect opportunity to compare him with the other handsome men
of Verona.
Brooklyn looked down at her small wedge stilettos, feigning troubled thoughts as she agreed
to go with him, but only because Raymond would be there. The student with the 'list' the
proceed to invite the pair to go, as long as they are not Montagues, unaware of who they
were.

It made the Stark miss the days when she was unrecognizable, when she could go down to
the grocery store without people lining up asking for autographs or photos.

Romea Montague had it easy...

After that brief conversation, the teachers called for the lights to change to a dimmer shade as
it became time for Damian's first scene.

He and Ned were alone on stage now, with Ned looking nervously at Brooklyn first for
reassurance, as if he was afraid the Wayne might attack or something.

After shooting her friend a reluctant thumbs up, Ned approached his son, ever the dutiful
mother.

Lady Capulet asks 'Julian' what he thinks about getting married, and to his credit, Ned did so
wonderfully. Only someone as serious as Damian was able to stifle their laugh at Ned's
female voice.

Thats when Damian's expression changed, his muscles relaxed, and he scanned the paper
once before replying with a kind of softness only someone as gentle and innocent as the
character of Juliet could posses, "I have not given it any thought mother"

Brooklyn felt like her mouth dropped to the floor, her script certainly did.

Though Ned was able to recover from his own shock, his acting was a little disoriented as he
replied, "You know, I gave birth to you when I was almost your current age. You must begin
to think about marriage now, especially because that beautiful woman Paris has expressed an
interest in you my son. She is a great match"

Damian dutifully replied that he would look upon Paris at the feast to see if he might love
her, in a way that almost seemed worried yet excited at the same time. Any doubts Brook had
about the pair being able to pull off this play died then as the teachers called the scene to a
stop.

That quickly, Damian's usual stiff posture and unamused expression returned.

He glared at the script, then turned back to the outskirts of the stage where Brook and Tanya
were looking at each other with wide eyes. Before the Wayne arrived towards them, Tanya
whispered to Brook, "I don't know about you, but that was hot"

The Stark gently elbowed her friend playfully before her nemesis' glower made the
cheerleader retreat back towards MJ and Ned with the excuse of having to talk to them about
their acting.
That left the Wayne and Stark staring out into the sea of students milling about, learning how
to use the technology of the stage, or just sitting around conversing with friends excitedly.

"I gotta say my esteemed rival, my hopes of making Flash loose his cash are rising by the
second" she whispered.

Damian sighed, "Playing Juliet is ridiculous, but worth it if it shuts everyone up at a school"

Just then, Mrs. Pettel approached the pair after yelling at some students to stop playing with
the stage lights. She gazed at them with approval, smiling down at the scripts they held
before actually congratulating them in the raw acting talent they possessed.

"Anyways, talent aside, you two need to practice your lines. Tomorrow we will go over act
one quickly again but will most certainly move to act two. For the masquerade, the two
characters are supposed to dance together, but since this is just a class project we won't be
able to get proper time to teach you two how to waltz...how unfortunate" the teacher mused.

As if the teacher had said that they were too dumb to know how to do a simple waltz, both
teens quickly mentioned that they of course, had training and could waltz with their eyes
closed. Brooklyn hadn't mean it as an offer to dance before the whole class with her nemesis,
and she was sure Damian hadn't either, but the teacher took it as such.

"Perfect! Then you two can dance during that scene! Oh, it will look so lovely!" Mrs. Pettel
said, then as if to make their lives even more miserable, she added, "But what I came here to
say was that we'll need you two to sacrifice a few minutes of your lunch hour to get fitted
into some costumes the sewing club will be making. Could you come back to the auditorium
then?"

Great...

The Stark looked to her enemy, only to see his sigh of resignation as he nodded. No way was
Brook going to miss seeing the Wayne fitted for clothes by complete strangers he likely
despised..so she agreed as well.

After the bell rang and everyone dispersed.

It wasn't until lunch time that the girl found herself inside the awful auditorium with a tray in
hand, and Peter by her side. Turned out, all Romeos and Juliets were getting their fittings
today.

When Damian showed up, he took one look around the bubbly figures surrounded by the
members of the sewing group, seemingly ready to leave. Before he could, Brooklyn shot him
a stern look, patting the floor beside her.

Surprisingly, he actually did come to sit by her side, but Damian did not miss the chance to
shoot a glare Peter's way. Though Brook wasn't entirely sure who would win in a serious
fight between Robin or Spider-man, she was more than certain that Pete shouldn't be this
afraid of her nemesis.
Why was Damian still like this with her best friend? Peter was a very easy guy to like after
all.

Still, by whatever miracle, they managed to get thought the fittings without much fuss,
though Brooklyn had gotten about five texts from her new nanny asking why she wasn't at
lunch.

After being vague about benign busy with school business, Ned had texted her that the new
student had managed to situate herself at the robotics nerd table far enough that if an
emergency were to occur, Claire would not be able to hear them plot to sneak out.

Thank goodness for Peter for catching him up.

Speaking of Peter, he was currently getting prodded and pinpricked beside Brook, just as she
was.

The sewing club consisted of very enthusiastic and energetic people that must not get many
volunteers to dress up, because they seemed to be enjoying this a bit too much.

While the Romeos were being fitted on one side of the stage, the Juliets were in the other,
save for Damian and Brook, who looked out of place given their unique roles. As the girls
were showered with pastel colored fabrics, Damian looked as if he might shove said fabrics
down the drain. Brooklyn couldn't help but smile at that, the most color she'd seen the Wayne
wear was probably a very deep red or the occasional dark blue, but nothing like soft pink or
gentle orange being offered his way.

Like Peter beside her, Brooklyn was currently being shown many blacks and blues for the
fabric choices. Though she would still wear a dress, the group of three students tasked with
the Stark's outfits had agreed to make the dress seem less feminine than those of the Juliets
on the other side of the room as a way to accommodate the intricate role.

Brook didn't mind much, and just because this whole literature play seemed like nothing
short of torture, the girl left most of the big decisions on her outfits for the students that
actually seemed to care. What she HAD become very concerned with was when the students
began trying to pin things by her back, or when one noticed the small scar by her thigh from
the battle of New York.

Each time, Brooklyn had expressed her exhaustion, which made them work faster in those
parts without questioning or seeing much of anything, but she'd had to offer to hold up some
fabrics down her back in order to prevent a rather unsavory discovery.

Only Damian had ever touched the marred skin of her back, and he'd probably be the only
one to ever claim to have done that if she had something to do about it.

When the Stark snuck a glance at her nemesis, she saw his usual scowl that seemed to
frighten those around him (except the girls), but Brook could see the nearly invisible signs of
reluctant acceptance as he pointed at some fabrics she couldn't see from here.
When they locked eyes across the room, Brook gave the Wayne a distressed sigh, dramatic
enough to make sweet Peter Parker laugh beside her. Said laughter caused her clumsy friend
to loose his balance slightly, and though she knew his 'spidy senses' would keep him from
face planting to the floor, Brook still reached out to steady her friend back to the small
wooden block he stood upon.

When their hands locked together...Brooklyn was trying very hard to remind herself that
Peter was her friend, that he deserved someone like MJ whom he already had feelings
for...but that could do nothing to stop the small smile forming on her face.

"Thanks, Brook!" Peter said shyly, then apologized to the students below as they merely
continued with their work of pinning a base fabric around her friend.

"Yeah...no worries"

Once Brooklyn had reluctantly apologized to those disturbed by her movement, she looked
up towards the other side of the room to see Damian looking angered? Annoyed? She
couldn't quite tell for sure.

Had he been stabbed by a pin?

Brook shot her enemy a raised brow, to which the green eyed boy replied with a quick
discrete look between her and Peter.

Oh...had he thought it was silly to save Peter given his secret abilities? In all honestly,
Brooklyn sometimes hoped Peter would stop his chivalrous acts and use his powers to at least
defend himself from people like Flash. But why did Damian look so...bothered?

It wasn't until everyone was dismissed back to the eating hall that she was able to question
Damian about it, especially since they were walking back alone while Peter was cornered by
some band mates wanting to discuss something for an upcoming game.

Feeling annoyed and slightly violated from the pins and fabrics, Brooklyn hung back with her
nemesis, making sure none of the other students saw them as she leaned in a bit closer to him
and whispered, "What were you trying to say back there. I'm usually very good at reading
you, but I didn't catch it this time"

The Wayne looked down at her with a scoff.

"Nothing of importance, aside from the fact that you seem to harbor feelings for Parker"
Damian said, voice low as he added, "Why on Earth would you pick him of all people to
pursue? That boy is nothing like you"

...

She shouldn't have been surprised that Damian of all people managed to find out about her
little crush, Tanya had even warned her a few times to be a little more reserved with her
emotions when it came to Peter because it was 'painfully obvious sometimes'.
Whether she liked it or not, Damian was the person that always seemed to know her best, so
it wasn't so much that he found out about the confusing whirlwind of emotions in her head
that bothered her, but the fact that he was implying that liking Peter seemed foolish.

"Not that its any of your business to begin with, but my feelings for Peter are...complicated as
it is" Brooklyn said, clutching the straps of her backpack angrily as she added with a sneering
side glance, "Were you implying that I'm not good enough for him?"

Damian's eyes went wide for half a second, then returning to his nonchalant self as he said
dryly, "You really think you are lesser than Parker? Thats ridiculous. If anything, he wouldn't
be able to keep up with you"

Was he....insulting her friend?

Damian did that often enough, but it was always with an air of unimportance, as if he was
just saying such things for the sake of stating indifference for others. But right now, the
strength in his voice, the sharpness of his eyes...it was different. Even the Wayne seemed
surprised by his small outburst, because he rolled his eyes and picked up the pace back up the
stairs.

When he reached the top step, he looked back once, features calm once again as he said, "We
can plan how to work around your new baby-sitter tonight"

With that promise to keep their walkie-talkie talk on, he left, and Brooklyn did not see him
until they had to stop a car chase in the middle of their last class of the day. His words still on
her mind.

Brook, Peter, and Jon took great care of getting out of Spanish class without raising
suspicions, which was considerably easy since they were doing a group assignment that
required descriptive photos around school. Damian had met them by the lockers, and as soon
as those com devices went on, Ned had found shelter in a janitor's closet from which to give
orders from.

Following their usual routine, the four teens suited up, this time taking much better care of
being discrete with the new SHIELD agent around. Luckily, Ned had thought of that, and
picked the janitor's closet nearest to Agent Claire's class after hacking into the school and
finding her schedule.

But the agent never once left the math classroom as the four teens made their way downtown.
Unlike their usual pairs of Jon taking Damian and Brook pairing with Peter, this time the
Wayne had wordlessly grabbed onto Brooklyn's waist and hoisted them building to building
with his grappling hook.

As soon as Brooklyn's feet had left the ground, she looked down at her hooded friends with
wide eyes, wondering why their set ups had changed, but both the kryptonian and Peter
seemed equally as confused, shooting up to follow along.

Despite the breaking of routine, Brooklyn and Damian still managed to make it to their
planned destination in once piece, though it would been faster had they taken their usual
arrangement. At least swinging with Damian Wayne was not as stomach dropping as it was
with Peter, who loved to dramatically drop down in the air every now and then.

Her nemesis had trusted her to know when they needed to take a few synchronized steps on
passing building walls, making sure their bodies were close enough to lean the same way
when they worked around the skyscrapers or jumped above cars stopped by traffic.

It had been exhilarating to say the least, but as soon as they landed on the roof of a small
building to set up a trap for the oncoming car, it was Jon who whispered beside them, "What
was that, Damian?"

The hooded teen was busy looking down at the busy street, but still replied coldly, "Nothing.
You and Parker were merely taking too long to get ready"

Despite his statement, once they had made a net with Peter's webs, Damian still seemed out
of it when Brooklyn went off with Peter to the adjacent building to hold the net while he
remained with Jon.

Perhaps the fittings had been too much for him? He disliked being touched after all, but she'd
seen the way he'd made sure no one touched him during the process...maybe he was just in a
grumpy mood then?

Why did it bother her so much anyways? Probably because she was usually able to read him
well, just not today.

By the time the four teens secured everything, the stolen car came around the corner of the
street, only to be stopped by the loosely fitting net. Once the car came to as stop, Brook and
Damian knocked the handful of criminals unconscious and Jon flew the tied up idiots up to a
light post where they wouldn't be able to escape from.

Pete made sure all the stolen money was inside as well, which meant no casualties or loss of
any kind had resulted after all.

Pleased with the ease of this small mission, the four made ready to return, but once again
Damian cut off Peter with a glare.

"You want to go with Brook again?" Peter asked, seemingly unbothered as he finished
dissolving his webs.

Damian merely stretched out an arm for Brooklyn to latch beside. The Stark stared at his
silent form for a few seconds, even with the police sirens getting closer by the second. Not
sure why he suddenly wanted to pair up on their way back, the girl obliged, only realizing
that he had not seemed even the slightest bit bothered by their body contact the whole way
back to the alley.

Even when they made to part ways in the hallway of the school building, Damian had still
seemed restless with himself. He did not protest as Jon suggested they do a group fist-bump
and dragged his hand into it, nor did he seem annoyed when she clutched his arm and
genuinely asked if he was ok.
Not that she'd ever admit it, but his odd behavior was making her worry. Was the Wayne sick
or something?

With bows scrunched up in confusion, Damian seemed to look within himself as he merely
shook his head and made way back to class.

Even when she saw him after school, making his way to the car behind Happy's as she dealt
with her new escort, Brooklyn found his eyes already meeting her own, but he just got in to
his own vehicle and had Alfred drive away.

Maybe tonight she could ask what was wrong? Did she even have a right to prod into his life?

*******

Peter Parker POV-

Both he and Brook sat on her couch, staring at the invitations that had been shoved into their
lockers sometime during their last class. It was honestly a miracle it hadn't been done when
the four of them returned back into school from their mission.

The teens were not alone in this discovery though.

On Brooklyn's TV, the rest of their friends were waving around the peach envelopes of their
own, frowning at the skeleton-face wax seal.

All but Brooklyn seemed to know what they meant, which made sense considering this was
her first year at Midtown. So they didn't ruin the surprise as they watched Brook open it, then
frown at the text within.

"Dear Brooklyn Stark" Brook read mockingly, "You have been invited to the greatest
halloween party of the year by your favorite person in the whole world...Flash. Costumes are
mandatory, and booze is free"

The Stark collapsed back on the couch with a chuckle, "This is ridiculous, Flash is hosting a
party?"

Peter smiled at her confusion, suddenly realizing that perhaps she'd never had a true
Halloween of her own with the whole assassin in hiding thing. That same unease must've
spread to any kind of party that she might've been invited to back in Brooklyn.

Sometimes it made him sad to think of what her life must've truly been like in that old
apartment where he'd saved her life so long ago. It was old, in one of the worst parts of the
city, void of life or color.

Peter had even asked Brook once if she'd ever made any friends at her old school, to which
the girl had replied simply that no one had wanted to be friends with the girl she was back
then. It truly made him feel awful to think back on what those days must've been like, or
remembering the injuries on her feet from being forced to dance for hours without stop as a
child.
So much pain and suffering, and Spider-man was sure he didn't even know the half of it.

Maybe thats why he announced, "Maybe we should go"

Harry moved closer to his camera, clutching the computer screen as he shouted, "Are you
insane! Remember what happened last party we went to? Flash had the whole mob shouting
about how much you sucked for not bringing Spider-man! You really wanna go through that
kind of public humiliation again?"

Brooklyn tensed beside him, ripping the invitation in half as she said menacingly, "Flash did
what!?"

In an attempt to defuse the tension and confusion of his friends, Peter clutched Brook's hand
reassuringly as he said to the TV, "Brook has never been to a party though, or celebrated
Halloween right?... at least not with friends since your dad is so protective right?"

Yeah, nice save.

They spent half an hour arguing whether or not it would be worthy it to go to THE party of
the year. Flash was many awful things, but a bad party planner was not one of them.

By the time they'd hung up the call still unsure on what to do about this invitation Brook's
parents definitely wouldn't agree to, Peter and Brook got to working on the reason they were
both in her apartment in the first place.

Go over lines for the play.

Since they would both be playing similar versions of Romeo, Peter thought it would be nice
if they quizzed each other to impress their teachers tomorrow with learnt lines. It was actually
great to spend some time alone together that did not involve homework or training.

He missed just being around her, helping her come at ease. Plus, he was still worried sick
about what had happened with the assassin or what it implied. The fact that even Ms Natasha,
one of the scariest people in the world (in his own mind at least) had seemed scared over the
Red Room and their leader Ivan....well it made Peter worry.

He'd rather walk over burning coals than have Brooklyn back in that place, even when she
acted like nothing was wrong, like she wasn't scared.

Peter knew the agent being at school was a good safety measure, he was eased by it even with
Damian and Jon keeping an eye out with him and Ned. They had all secretly promised to
keep Brook safe from those Red Room people if they ever showed up at school, but Peter
knew they could use any help they could get.

Maybe he would suggest they go to Flash's party then. Not because he particularly loved
social gatherings or being humiliated by Flash, but because Brooklyn was in desperate need
of normalcy, maybe even some fun.

Perhaps that would help ease her mind after all...

******

Brooklyn POV-

Brook should been thinking on the important matters like alien weapons or Ivan, but having
Peter tell her she was pretty or that she was the love of his life while they went over their
lines...well she tried not to let it get to her head too much.

MJ likes him. You are MJ's friend. Those two sentences were like mantra in her head that
kept the embarrassment from her expressions.

Instead of letting those odd feelings take hold, Brook focused on the fact that Peter's kindness
did indeed make him a very good Romeo, it sure helped make it seem like he was hopelessly
in love with Juliet.

Trying not to think about him acting like this in front of Cindy from the decathlon team,
Brooklyn distracted herself further by memorizing her own lines, but somehow finding it
hard to pretend to love Peter with all her will. It had been so simple today during rehearsal to
get into the hopeless devotion of Romeo, but before her best friend, she just couldn't do it as
well as she hoped.

When she'd said as much to Damian during their call at nigh, he'd seemed very quiet at first.

"You went over lines with Parker? Aren't we supposed to do that?" he'd asked.

Well....yes?

"Yeah, what am I gonna do, go to your house?"

The Wayne had scoffed, "On a day my family isn't home, we will go over them. I refuse to
show anything less than a perfect performance to shut everyone up. No more waisting time
practicing with Parker then"

Brooklyn rolled her eyes. When would Damian finally ease into liking Peter? Honestly, she
was still shocked it was taking this long, her best friend was an easily likable guy after all.
Maybe they were just too different...

Maybe Jon was right, Peter and Damian needed to have some bonding time.

Still, she'd agreed to the plan, if only because practicing with Damian might be even more of
a challenge.

The two had gone into the deep hours of the night discussing small details of the play then,
much more at ease as they debated the merits of moving around in stage or somehow
convincing the teachers to use real swords during the play. She'd even gone as far as to praise
his acting by accident.

Now that Brooklyn would never live down...

 It had been a calming way to end the day, to make Brook forget even for just a few hours that
she was still being hunted down by Ivan, that Peter did not like her, or that she had a new
nanny from SHIELD.

Somehow, her nemesis always made it all....less annoying.

Yeah, less annoying.

Chapter End Notes

As always, please remember that you are valuable, that you mean the world to me, and
that the sad days come and go. Please stay safe, take care of those you love and yourself.
Remember that all lives matter, none more than another. Respect all religions, countries,
and races of the world. Love freely, be who you were born to be.

Lets stay positive! We'll get though the dark days together, because whether you are a a
silent reader or someone who comments on every chapter, you are like family to me, and
I will fight for your happiness, whatever it takes.

Enjoy the next chapters!

 Stark Industries
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

One of the things Brooklyn had found a sort of solace in during her 'punishment' was going to
Stark industries every now and then when dad was not busy with a mission he always refused
telling her anything about.

Tony would pick her up form school in his now familiar orange Audi while Happy grumpily
promised to take Peter home. Now he had to take agent Claire back as well, so at least
someone else would keep Peter company through the Downton Abbey soundtrack.

Despite the slight worry of leaving her sweet best friend alone with a SHIELD agent,
Brooklyn was happy to spent some time with her dad as last, even if this was technically
work.

Like always, he greeted her enthusiastically with his newest learned Russian greetings that
always made Brooklyn smile. Unlike Happy, Tony was a lot more open to sharing control of
the music in the car, but Brook often found his picks were not bad at all.

So as they sat int he car, a rather unhealthy bag of curly fries in each of their laps and rock
classics blasting around them, her dad briefly used the stop sign as a chance to turn her way.

Tony lazily leaned on the steering wheel as he asked with a smile, "So, how was school
today? Bet you're getting bored with those basic curriculums with all the work the SHIELD
science division has you doing"

Brooklyn swallowed a cluster of salty fries before replying with equal ease, "School was
good, days without decathlon practice always seem more relaxing even though school has
gotten significantly more boring. How is everyone doing back at the compound anyways?"

Her otets smirked, "Thats my daughter! And everything is fine, no one is too overworked, but
it think most are just happy to be able to help even if the government is breathing down our
necks half the time"

Brooklyn couldn't help but want to rip all the heads off the idiots treating her family like
criminals when they were just trying to help.

At least she was able to make her dad laugh recounting tales of her classmates fawning over
the Avengers from time to time, even some of her experiences watching Peter's recommended
films.

As they pulled up to the giant parking space of the Stark Industries building in Manhattan,
Tony said, "I'm glad there is no bad blood between you an Underoos after all. For whatever
its worth, he did want to tell you who he really was for a long time, even I found myself
almost blurting the secret"

Haha, nice way to save his own ass.

But she wasn't mad at her dad about that anymore.

Things were good with Peter now after he'd explained himself.

He'd shared his scary experience gaining abilities, an almost impossible sounding experience
with an experimental spider at Mr. Osborn's company during a field trip. Peter had even gone
into the trials and errors of figuring out what his skills were, how scary and lonely that had
been.

Brooklyn couldn't blame him for wanting to keep it a secret after that, especially when he
decided to use those skills for good despite the sacrifices that would come with that choice.

It just made Peter all the more benevolent in her mind.

"He's my best friend, of course I'm not gonna bite his head off for this" Brooklyn argued,
"Why are you concerned over our friendship?"

Dad chuckled, "Because he's my responsibility of course! Peter is a good kid"

"He's a saint and we all know it. You worry too much" she replied as the car came to a stop in
tis honorary parking spot.With a roll of his eyes, Tony got off the car with Brook following
close by.

Brook was grateful her outfit for school had been a little more on the 'business appropriate'
side today. Her black skirt and floral loose top did not look out of place in the large building
that was Stark Industries. Especially when her dad was wearing a faded t-shirt under his suit.

As soon as the automatic doors swung open and FRIDAY announced them to the lobby,
Brooklyn realized she felt relaxed like she did at school or at the compound.

No one treated her like a kid in here, not any more since she'd proven her professionalism and
maturity to them. Now Brook was greeted and spoken to as they would with her own dad,
which only made this place more comfortable now a days.

The good thing was, in Star Industries, Brooklyn wasn't acknowledged as the famed public
figure, the model, or the wild teenager everyone wanted to know everything about. In this
building, as well as any other owned by her father, Brook was just the heiress...someone who
would lead these people one day, someone they seemed to trust to do it with each assigned
task successfully done by her.

Having been here a few times, Brooklyn nodded at the familiar guards at the door, greeted the
receptionists by name with her dad, and even received a folder of her own when the cluster
assistants flanked the two Starks.
Though Tony hadn't wanted to overwhelm her with too much, Brooklyn had often insisted
she was ready to get more involved with the company matters. It was a lot of work once he'd
caved, but her temporary 'stay at home' punishment had given the girl the time and space to
learn in peace.

On her folder, Brooklyn quickly signed propositions for the Stark Expo planned for the
summer. Her duties were small, mostly approving event times, organizing what would be
held in which building of the Expo plaza, or more pressing duties like approving which
technology to show for the 'young adult' exhibits.

Already having read everything ahead of time, Brooklyn only inspected things one more time
before signing or giving changes to the assistants beside her.

As they two boarded the elevator, Brooklyn handed over her work to the assistants before the
doors closed, noticing her dad was looking down at her with a smile.

When she quirked a brow, Tony said smugly, "You're just like you mom, Daphne. You and
Pepper have a knack for these company things"

Brooklyn chuckled, tucking in the praise to ponder on later as she replied, "Maybe its
because we actually read everything we are given and don't decide things on a whim"

The elevator was set into motion for the ninth floor as the father and daughter pair chuckled.

In truth, Brooklyn had originally been worried she just wouldn't be cut out for the job of
CEO, something that required an office and not a battle field. But it was all surpassingly
straight forward, and with mom and dad's guidance...maybe it would all turn out alright.

It was still scary to think that Ivan had once wanted Brook to take over this company with
blood on her hands, all for his gain of weapons to enact chaos. Now, Brooklyn had a vision,
the same as her father's, to make the Industries to do various kinds of good in the world.

Sure, going over grant documents, approving charities and foundations was very tedious and
sometimes boring work...but Brooklyn knew it could change someone's life the way her own
had turned for the better.

It was still not enough to satiate the need to help with bigger issues like the Joker and weapon
problem, but nothing good would come out of starting a fight with her dad about that.

Luckily, today her work was less on the paperwork side and more on the free rein
department. Glancing down at her neatly printed schedule, Brook almost heaved a sign of
relief when she noticed she only had to check up on the medical equipment innovations
division.

It had been her idea to bring about technological advancements for the less fortunate mostly
because of Uncle Rhodey, so it was only fair she take care of it...or at least thats what mom
had said.
After that, Brooklyn was free to go work on her lab (a small section of her dad's private lab)
until both her parents were ready to go out to eat. So, an easy day after all! Brooklyn needed
it after going over lines for the play that resulted in dancing with Damian in front of the
whole class.

That had been...unsettling. Unlike the first time she danced with the Wayne, this time, she
hadn't felt like killing him. In fact, she had forgotten all about the others present and just...just
danced.

Shaking the memories from her mind, Brooklyn move out of the elevator with a smile for her
dad.

As soon as the pair made it to the CEO office, the giant ebony doors opened to reveal Pepper
rounding the main desk, papers in hand as she sighed in relief at the sight of them.

With two assistants flanking her, mom rushed over to them, placing a kiss on each of their
cheeks before saying, "Great! You're here! I have to go deal with something down at level
five, but I have a meeting scheduled about the joint relief foundation for Lagos. I know you
won't like it, but can you sort that out when the other company CEO comes?"

Tony chuckled.

"Of course Pep. Leave it to us!" he said, earning a quick lover's kiss before darting out of the
office in a hurry and a promise to meet for some late lunch with Brook.

Now alone in the office, the two Starks did as they often would when mom left the office to
them. In minutes, Tony was blasting classical rock while reclining on the desk chair,
overlooking his documents with ease.

Brooklyn sat on the couch by the large window behind them, going over her own reports as
she stared down at the lively city below occasionally. The two casually brought up
conversation, mostly because dad was making efforts to get to know even the smallest detail
about her, something about making up for lost time.

He often asked silly things that could sometimes be surprisingly easy to answer since Brook
had never given them much thought.

Favorite color? Red

Favorite song? Relative to her mood, constantly changing.

Favorite animal? As long as it wasn't a dog or cat...or a street animal, she'd tolerate it.

Favorite Food? Tie between Grandpa Steve's pancakes and Wanda's Chicken Paprikash.

Then came the hard things Tony loved asking her, possibly just to see her squirm nervously,
dropping her pen far too many times to be considered normal.

First celebrity crush? Thank's to Peter's movie recommendations, probably Alfred Enoch
from Harry Potter.
First kiss? Brooklyn hadn't answered that one much to her dad's worry even as flashes of a
mall and gentle hands on her lips rushed back to her along withe the smell of musky cologne
and mint.

As if thinking of that day at the mall served as some sort of cosmic summons, the main
assistant quickly came in to the office and mentioned Mr. Wayne, the co-CEO, and his
youngest son were on their way for the meeting.

"Meeting?" Tony had questioned looking up from his work, "Why is Brucy in my building?"

The raven haired assistant looked at the two gaping Stark's with worry.

"Um, Mr. Wayne is here to come to terms with the joint relief foundation for Lagos" she said,
fisting her pencil skirt nervously.

Brooklyn couldn't help but chuckle at the sheer luck of it all. The day she decided to come to
Stark industries, Damian arrived, as if being at school together wasn't enough.

Expecting Tony to be annoyed, she was surprised to see he smirked, leaning back on his chair
as he asked the assistant to announce when they arrived to their floor.

Brook knew that look, her dad was about to make a scene.

"What are you plotting, otets ?"she asked, watching as he turned off the music for something
more mellow, a string of violins and keys of a piano filling the space instead.

Her dad smirked, brow eyes full of mischief while he turned off the various monitors on the
elegant desk.

"Brucy is probably expecting me to look casual and childish, I say we give them a bit of a
shock instead. Its not often my enemy comes to visit me after all"

Suddenly thrilled with the idea, Brooklyn went to play her part, standing beside her dad on
the large desk, looking serious and intimidating. Back straight, and eyes cold, the two Starks
retained their laughter as the three Waynes walked in.

The three dark haired individuals strode inside with confidence, dressed elegantly as always
even when Damian still had his school clothes that were never casual in his case.

The three seemed surprised, not in the elated kind, when they beheld Brook and her dad in
the room. Some part of Brooklyn knew this was childish, but there was something about
being around her dad that just made all of these silly actions seem fun. Her only hope now
was that they could actually get some work done, otherwise mom would kill them (not
literally of course).

"Mr. Wayne," Tony said seriously, gesturing to the four chairs before the long desk with a
small flick of his wrist, "I see you've brought the pipsqueaks, Timothy Starbucks and Damian
McGlare. Good, the more the merrier I always say"
Mr. Wayne arched a brow, slowly walking over to the desk with his children flanking him,
displaying equal confusion. When Damian turned his green eyes on her own, she couldn't
help but wink his way to let him know they were just messing around.

Once the three took their seats, it was the famous Timothy that spoke up, placing a few
folders on the table that could very well be attributed with the large eye-bags under his blue
eyes that surprisingly did very little to lessen his beauty.

The Waynes...such a waste of good looks.

"I was under the impression that we'd be meeting with Ms Potts?" Timothy asked, and as if
the mere voice of his brother was unbearable, Damian rolled his eyes from his seat on the
other side of his father.

Brooklyn knew all about his distaste for Tim Drake from their late night talks. From what
she'd gathered, Damian saw Tim as his rival. Though the Wayne had told a very biased story
in his favor, Brooklyn pieced out that that Tim had been Bruce's latest adopted son at the time
Damian arrived to the manor.

When Tim had tried to befriend her nemesis, Damian's first reaction was to stab Tim, as any
good assassin with jealousy would. That and the fact that Tim was doing such a good job
being co-CEO of Wayne industries, something that Damian heavily viewed as his
inheritance, well there were clearly a lot of problems between the two.

None of it had been exaggerated by the looks of it.

"My future wife became preoccupied with some matters, but I'm sure we can figure it out
ourselves, bat" Her dad said causally, fixing his red tie lazily.

Mr. Wayne seemed to contemplate arguing, clearly unhappy with spending any time with his
greatest enemy. But duty must've won over comfort, because he remained seated.

"We should take this time to discuss other matters as well Stark...mission matters" the man
said, sending a pointed glare to not only Damian but Brooklyn as well, as if to dismiss them.

Brooklyn would loved nothing more than to show the Batman how easily she could stab him
with any given pen on the desk, but in an effort to control her anger, Brooklyn turned to her
dad, finding he wasn't gonna let her stay either.

"Why don't you go take care of your duties? Then you can leave with Pepper for lunch,
kiddo"

There it was, Tony pushing her aside from the mission....

Fine. Whatever.

Quickly, Brooklyn gathered her tablet and folders from the couch, then gestured for Damian
to follow after he got very strict instructions to wait in the lobby without spying on them.
So, the two teens found themselves cast out of the room, with the bird-like faced secretary
staring up at them from her desk with a reassuring smile.

"Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Stark?" the woman asked.

Unless she could knock some sense into the adults, then the answer would most definitely be
no. Instead of saying that, Brooklyn smiled and asked, "Actually, I'll be going down to the
third floor to work at the lab. Would you mind telling my mom once she becomes available?"

Then she beheld Damian sitting down on one of the black couches, glaring holes at the door
to the office.

As his enemy, Brooklyn should leave him here to suffer all by himself...but he was also her
teammate in some sense.

God, why did she always bend the rules for that guy?

"Oh and one more thing, Claudia" Brooklyn called out to the secretary, "Would you mind
giving me a guest badge for Mr. Damian Wayne, he'll be joining me. Let me know when our
fathers are done with their business and I'll come drop him off"

Damian looked up at that while the secretary gaped, accidentally knocking down quite a few
things from her desk in the process.

Brooklyn smiled down at her nemesis, giving him the small pass she'd been handed over by
Claudia's shaking hands as she said, "What do you say Dami? Want a tour?"

Her enemy only let his confusion show for a few seconds, then stood up and grabbed the pass
angrily.

"Fine, only because not being here when my dad comes out might give him a heart attack" he
said, and with that, Brooklyn found herself surprisingly excited to show her esteemed rival
around the place that would become her future.

****

Their first destination had been a quick trip to the technology innovation division. Though
Brook had been there quite a few times, it felt different having someone other than her
parents with her.

Everyone they passed by seemed to recognize who Damian was, likely because of the famed
Wayne-Stark rivalry, but no one dared to comment on the fact that the two were walking
around together.

People still greeted Brook warmly, others even nodding at the Wayne reluctantly.

Still, every floor was busy today, and only some second-long glances could be spared from
those busy doing their work. Brooklyn still made a point to indicate what each office was for
to Damian, who listened intently as he walked, arms behind his back.
He studied the place with a scrutinous eye, but never actually had anything mean or rude to
say. Damian did however roll his eyes whenever they passed by a desk with something silly
like an Iron man bubblehead or someone wearing any form of Avengers merch under their
lab coats.

Dad wasn't really struck with business attire after all.

When they made it to the double locked area of the east building, Brooklyn had to not only
go through handprint recognition software, but also input a few passcodes she'd memorized
by now.

Damian did not mutter a word as they made their way to a large white room, filled with
scientists working in closed off glass areas. Each was busy with chemicals, writing excitedly
on the clear whiteboards, or even testing out a few things on the safety lock area.

Brook had become familiar with the smell of sterilized air and chemicals, she welcomed it as
she did the passing scientist, with a smile on her face.

It surprised Brooklyn that she actually brought the Wayne inside instead of making him wait.
Somehow, she trusted him to keep quiet about all this, even when he too was considered a
member of an enemy company. In fact, Damian had probably become one of the few people
in the world she actually trusted...

Weird.

After going up to a group to approve their projects, Brooklyn guided Damian back down a
few floors without a word. It was once they got out of the elevator again that he said, "Your
dad has you in charge of that stuff?"

Brook smirked, "I wouldn't say in charge, I just oversee the simple things for now. That
division is relatively new, working to find ways for everyday technology to be modified for
the sick or wounded"

Damian nodded, "I gathered that from the projects you approved"

The two walked down a bridge, looking down at the main lobby and the small gardens it
held. Announcements rang around them as they walked to the west part of the building which
unlike the East, was filled with dark rooms, private labs for special projects.

Once at the very end of the main hall, Brooklyn began to work past the security measures as
she said, "You've been doing things for Wayne Enterprises too right? What doesn't your dad
have you doing now?"

"Coming here for 'experience'. Overlooking budgets, revenue, investments, things like that"
The Wayne said bitterly, "As if I couldn't have done that as a ten year old"

She had no doubt he could've.

Stepping into her dad's private lab, Brooklyn beheld the various tables, the mess all over the
place as the dozens of monitors and holograms in the room came to life in blue light. In
seconds, FRIDAY's voice rang across the room, opening the blinds in Brooklyn's side of the
lab as it said, "Welcome back Miss Stark, would you like me to order anything to eat?"

Remembering her planned meal with mom, Brook declined, but smiled when she beheld a
still Damian beholding everything in the room. The new Iron man suit work in progress
models, the machines cleaning and putting things in place.

There was art of the Avengers on the walls, as well as records of old rock bands that gave a
'Tony Stark' feel to the space. Brooklyn was already used to all this, but Damian wasn't. It
was with that thrill of showing Damian the unknown that she hesitantly took his hand in her
own, dragging him over to her side of the room so he could behold her own projects.

Damian went over to the closest table, scanning the small skeleton of the gauntlets she was in
the process of figuring out. Luckily for Brook, the mechanics of it all would be similar to the
arm pieces of her dad's suits.made her job all the easier at least.

So far, they were just two black metal pieces, as thin as Brook could manage to make them
and long enough to take up the length of half her forearm.

"Do they shoot rounds?" Damian asked.

It was an astute inference, something the old Brooklyn would've preferred.

"Nah" Brooklyn replied, placing one of the pieces on her arm, watching as the machine
slowly closed around her arm and the circumference of it all began to glow in a blue light.
The sounds of crackling came from it, but the electricity was confined to her control.

"I don't kill anymore, remember? This will just be painful enough to immobilize someone.
Natasha has some like these, but I used the electricity programing for the training grounds to
store more electricity with less space. I can regulate it if I wish, that way I can bring down
stronger enemies if need be" she clarified.

Though Damian did not praise her handiwork, he had not seemed displeased by it either. That
in Damian language was considered a huge compliment in its own right.

"Truth is," Brook added, mentally cruising her mouth for speaking up, "All those gadgets of
yours seem useful, so I thought...if we're gonna keep fighting evil and all, I should have some
of my own"

Guns were dangerous in her hands, deadly weapons every more troubling in her hold despite
her rigorous SHIELD training and change of moral standards. Brooklyn had grown to
appreciate the non-deadly weapons as of recently, especially since alien weaponry was still
out there causing chaos.

Damian moved to inspect some small vibranium daggers, the special metal had been a gift
from her dad days ago. He had some way to get the coveted metal, and had let Brooklyn
experiment with it lately, which had resulted in those small but useful daggers.
Maybe it was because Brook still had one of his daggers in her possession, but she offered
one of the unbreakable blades to him, tossing it like it was nothing.

"Keep one" she said over her shoulder, moving to scan the holograms of her A.I, "No bullet,
alien weapon beam, or even Jon's developing strength could break that thing, just don't tell
anyone I gave it to you"

The act of kindness took them both by surprise, but Damian pocketed them small dagger
anyways, not even bothering to question where she'd gotten a contact from Wakanda to gain
the coveted vibranium. In fact, though not distributed out into the world yet, Wakandan
Vibranium was worth an estimated $10,000 per gram.

It made for an expensive gift, especially for an enemy, but Brooklyn did not find herself
regretting the action one bit. Nor was she regretting her plan to steal Peter's suit one of these
days to line it with vibranium in an effort to keep him safe.

Too bad, there would be very little for Brook to use on herself. But there was something
about this strange act of selflessness, the opposite of what a Red Room agent would do, that
made it feel like it was the right thing to do.

So, the two enemies sat at her table for a few hours as Brooklyn showed off her almost
finished A.I.

Damian originally thought it would be stupid to make one considering her dad already had
one. But Brooklyn had explained her logic, shared the fact that she often turned off FRIDAY
when she talked with Damian to keep the conversations private, something that had almost
cost Brook her life when Yelena had attacked.

Now an A.I. of her own, one Brooklyn knew she could trust and be in complete control
of...well, it would be a win all around. Though Brook was now more trusting of FRIDAY and
Vision, that weariness of the A.I. from her youth remained...but this new system was a way to
build up trust at least

When the hologram structure of V.I.R.G.I.L. ("Virtual Integrated Rapidly-evolving Grid-

based Intelligent Lifeform") came to life before them, the Stark was proud to see all of its
components seemed to be doing well today.

Peter's advice really had come in handy...

Though Brook had taken to refer to the A.I. as GIL, the machine hadn't seemed to mind one
bit. And though she hadn't originally planned to do so, GIL now had a female voice with a
heavy Russian accent, something that Damian had apparently found interesting.

The A.I was still in the process of downloading data, getting ready to do any and all kinds of
functions, especially the ones Brooklyn had programmed in herself. Brook had made sure the
A.I. was smart, but she'd yet to expand the limits of said intelligence.

That was why it had been quite a shock when GIL talked to Damian.
"Your companion is not registered as an employee of Stark Industries, Miss Stark" GIL said
calmly, and after a brief pause it added, "Search complete or the stranger. Damian Wayne, son
of Bruce Wayne. Would you like me to save him into my protocol as a friend of foe?"

Brooklyn smirked at the Wayne, who looked about ready to try and shut down the A.I., all the
while the Stark was trying to process what to do about this little problem.

Damian, as much as she hated to admit it, was no foe of hers, not since they teamed up to not
only destroy Flash, but to fight crime together. But its not like he was a friend either, they
were still family enemies after all.

"Catalog him as my....esteemed rival. Neither friend of foe" Brooklyn announced

mischievously, trying to hide her own uncertainty as Damian shot her a softened glare.

"I had no idea I required a new category" he said sarcastically, "But I suppose I should expect
nothing less of my beloved nemesis after all"

GIL had called out then to Damian, "Very well Mr. Wayne, I have added you with special
status. When I'm around, you may access my help"

No! Why did Brooklyn's A.I. suddenly like Damian! There was something creepily odd about
that considering GIL was basically Brooklyn's self put into a computer!

It was Brook that shut off GIL for now, wondering what special status even meant...

Thats when the chime of the door rang across the space, FRIDAY indicating the arrival of
Brook's mom. At the mention of the woman, Brook was amused to see Damian sit up
impossibly straighter, face back to its neutral attributes as Pepper came inside, a bemused
smile on her face when she beheld Damian by Brooklyn's side..sitting at the same
table....only a few feet apart.

Brooklyn shot up from the chair, and despite the Wayne's presence, she engulfed Pepper into
a tight hug that the girl hadn't been able to give her earlier.

"Hey sweetie" Pepper murmured, and thanks to her long heels, looked own at Brook with a
beaming red smile, a twin to her own. It always brought some sense of satisfaction when
employees said Brook and Pepper looked alike. Sure, mom's hair was lighter, a strawberry
blonde rather than a red-ish like the teen, but their attire and red lipstick was always a match
that made them seem more alike.

Now that they were legally mother and daughter, well...everything seemed right in the world
at last.

"I thought Harley was gonna stop by?" Brooklyn questioned, looking back to see if the shy
boy had just stopped by the door just as Pepper began looking around as she said, "Harley is
spending the day with Steve today. They wanted to build replica of an old train"

Only Captain Steven Rogers would want to build a train, and only someone as kind and
curious as Harley would join in...
But why was mom looking around so much? Perhaps for dad, or a reason why Damian was
here?

Oh...right! Though Pepper likely knew Damian since he was younger at least in passing at
company events, they had never been properly introduced back at the safe house and it was
likely Damian had never made a move to introduce himself all these years.

"Um, mom" Brooklyn said, turning to face her nemesis as she added, "This is Damian
Wayne, the bane of my existence"

Damian stood form his seat and ignoring Brooklyn's comment, he moved nod towards
Pepper, still not fond of the shaking hands thing.

"Ms Potts" he said simply, never one for heavy formalities either.

Mom did not seem to mind, but she did shoot Brooklyn a funny look the teen couldn't quite
decipher before saying back to Damian, "Its good to see you again Damian, my daughter
talks about you quite a lot"

That quickly, Brooklyn felt her face flush in anger. SHE DID NOT....did she???? Ok, so
sometimes Brook complained about Damian to her parents. Mostly about the harmless stuff,
like what their first encounters had been like.

But the way mom had worded it made it seem like something else!

Scrambling to explain herself, Brooklyn interjected, "Well of course I do. Damian is my

nemesis, I have to complain to someone"

Damian still seemed frozen in place for a while, his gaze locked on Brooklyn when mom
asked FRIDAY if dad was still busy in his meeting. when the three found out the Waynes
were still in the office, Pepper said, "Why don't the three of us go to lunch then? That
meeting might take a while"

The..the three of them!

Before Brooklyn could complain, her mom shot the teen a look as if to say, 'Don't start with
the rivalry stuff. It would be rude if we leave by ourselves'.

So Brook was left only able to watch as Damian struggled to come up with the right answer.
Mom must've expected that, because she turned around ushering the teens to follow as she
called for Happy to pull up the car by the front.

Knowing better than to defy her kind mother, Brooklyn took a hold of Damian's black sleeve
and dragged him along as he whispered nonsense about eating with Starks.

Seeing the three of the leaving the building, now that brought on some odd looks which
Pepper ignored. No one actually said anything anyways. Actually, the one person who
actually dared voice his confusion was Happy once mom took the passenger seat with Brook
and Damian sitting stunned in the back.
"What is a Wayne doing in the car?" Happy asked no one in particular, bringing down his
dark shades as if to clear his eyesight.

Brooklyn shrugged, letting mom explain that SHE was treating him to lunch while Mr.
Wayne was busy. Though still weary, especially by what Tony would have to say about this
later, Happy pulled out of the driveway and into the flow of traffic of Manhattan.

When Pepper started suggesting good places to eat, she brought up a place with some
exquisite steak, which Brook might have agreed to had Damian not been in the car, staring
worriedly out the window.

"We can't go there mom" Brooklyn said, gaining everyone's attention, "Damian doesn't eat
meat"

Mom smiled back at them, but Happy outright glared in the rearview mirror and said, "How
do you know that?"

"Because we eat in the same cafeteria silly" Brook spat back, looking to see Damian seemed
more relaxed, or at least as much as he would allow of himself in this situation. Thankfully,
that was the end of that interrogation, and Pepper found a place nearby with vegetarian dishes
available.

As Happy pulled up at the whimsical looking establishment, Brook and Pepper pulled on
their own shades, a habit whenever the Starks went out into the city in a small effort not to be
as easily recognized. When Brooklyn looked to Damian, she pulled up Harley's shades from a
nearby compartment and handed them over.

"Lest someone sees a Stark and Wayne out together, what a horrific sight that would be,
right?" she joked, trying to lessen the tension between them, why...she had no clue.

Damian nodded, placing the shades on and sliding out the door.

It came by no surprise when there was a waiter out ready to take them to their table, mom
was always good at making last minute reservations thanks to her previous employment as
dad's personal assistant.

Brook and Damian followed close behind Pepper, moving through the rustic looking building
until they were guided to one of the lone tables on the roof.

The place was full of greenery and a sight of the various towering buildings around them.

Thankfully, the table was round, so there would be no trouble deciding who sits on what side
of the table after all. Another mercy was the soft rays of the sun that were surprisingly
comfortable with the gentle breeze of autumn air. Despite the chaos of the city around them,
the place was nice, smelled like citrus and rose blooms, and the fact that they were the only
people up there on the rood made it all the better.

Once menus were brought and non-alcoholic drinks were served, mom turned to Damian to
strike conversation.
"So how has moving to Midtown been so far?"

Damian looked up from the menu, and sitting beside the demon, Brooklyn could see a hint of
a smile blooming on his often serious face.

If he said anything about their secret missions, Brook might actually kill him with her fork.

The Wayne simply replied, "Its a prestigious school, certainly better than my old one back in
Gotham, even if your daughter got me in trouble soon after my arrival"

Brooklyn did not bother being discrete when she stuck her tongue out at him, mom had
witnessed sillier behavior from her anyways.

Seemingly pleased with the response that did not enact a war, mom nudged Brook with her
elbow, "And how was school today, Brook? Anything worth noting?"

The teen chuckled.

Well, there was the play rehearsals that had almost ended in chaos when Brooklyn and
Damian had been tasked with teaching their classmates how to waltz properly. Or the robbery
she, Damian, and the others had stopped in the morning bleakness of their second class.
There was also the dodgeball (courtesy of Brook) that Flash took to the face during P.E.

But all those events were unfortunately secret, because they involved the boy beside her and
their forbidden fraternizing.

Instead, Brooklyn said softly, "Peter and I got a high score on our Spanish test today, he was
very happy about it"

Though Pepper hadn't heard it, Brook had noticed the small scoff at the mention of Peter
from the demon sitting beside her, innocently scanning the menu with the black shades, raven
hair flowing gently in the wind.

At least mom was aware Damian knew of Peter's secret identity, because that way she was
able to say calmly, "Good, I hope being away from patrols has been letting Peter rest a bit. He
always overworks himself in my opinion but he seems to be doing better with you around"

That was followed by a wink.

What did that even mean?

When Brooklyn subtly asked, mom looked towards Damian wearily for a few seconds before
ignoring the question completely. Throughout lunch, Brooklyn was left wondering... what if
her mom had somehow figured out her small crush on Peter? That was impossible of course.

So, as casual conversation flowed along with the meal of fresh fruits and crisp lasagna,
Brooklyn tried not to think too much on the knowing look from Pepper. Mom was incredibly
smart, but she could not read minds or the hidden secrets within them.
The meal itself was fantastic, and Brook soon found that she did not mind Damian's company
in the least, just like when they were in school. His being around did not change the air of
relaxation that came with spending time with Pepper either.

He was not very talkative of course, but he seemed at ease with the Starks, keeping his hand
away from the pocket Brooklyn knew had the gifted dagger inside.

To Brook's surprise, Mom admitted she liked Damian's honestly, had said as much when the
teen began talking about his annoyance of not being allowed into the Joker mission,
something Brooklyn found herself agreeing to while snatching a few fries from Damian's
plate.

When he glared her way, she simply said, "You snooze you loose, Dami"

Pepper did not reprimand her for the manners, instead said to the two of them, "I know you
guys are upset about the mission, but you'll both have your time to deal with things like this
when you're older, whether the Avengers or the others have anything to say about it. You
should just enjoy being teens right now, thats hard enough as it is in my opinion"

But Brook knew she was no ordinary teen! She knew that handling this mission wouldn't be
way out of her league as all the heroes thought. Damian seemed to share the same thoughts.

"I'm sure you're aware that she and I grew up differently" he said, pointing Brook's way, "We
are skilled enough for these things. We challenged the Joker enough times to halt his plans
while the adults are still scratching their heads on where the clown could be. We don't need to
waste our time doing small useless things when we could be putting an end to all of this"

Pepper nodded at that, then noticing everyone's plates were clean, she called for the check
(which Damian surprisingly tried to pay) before saying they'd be making a stop before they
went back to the company.

Having no clue what kind of errand Pepper needed to take care of, she merely shrugged as
they walked back to the car, pleased to see no cameras or paparazzi had found them today.

When Damian opened their door for Brook, she couldn't stop the gaping of her mouth at the
kind action.

Annoyed, Damian gestured to the inside of the car as he said, "Just be glad that chivalry isn't
dead and get in the car"

With a chuckle, Brooklyn did as she was asked for once, ignoring the soft smile on her
mother's face as Happy drove them to who knew where. It wasn't long before both teens
noticed they'd stopped in front of a nearby museum.

Brooklyn had never been to one before, had actually planned to go to the science museum in
Queens with MJ and Peter some time in the future to remedy that.

This museum looked old, like a roman styled building brimming with excited civilians.
Now, Brook was no expert on society, but she knew people weren't normally so excited about
places like dusty museums. Mom also didn't really seem the kind to enjoy such spaces, but
perhaps Stark Industries was a benefactor of this pace and Pepper just had some business to
deal with?

But mom had asked them to come along.

Used to being set aside by the adults, both Damian and Brooklyn shared a confused head tilt
before moving out the car with Happy's faint request for Pepper to keep an eye on the Wayne
he still didn't seem to trust one bit.

Once they were making way up the stairs and way from the car, Damian whispered, "Your
butler is weary of me....smart man"

Brooklyn chuckled, "Happy is weary of everyone, and he's not a butler, he's head of security
and a family friend like how Alfred is family to you"

The teen faced forward, shade covered eyes inspecting the large building before them as he
replied, "What does he think I'm gonna do anyways? Kill you?"

She knew Damian wouldn't do that. Despite how weird the statement sounded, Brooklyn
knew for a fact that even when they were enemies, opposing sides of a chessboard...he
wouldn't kill her.

Now they had sworn to fight not only to together, but for each other. But of course Happy
couldn't know of the newfound trust Brooklyn held for a Wayne, that would just be reported
back to Tony and cause a frenzy.

"Well," Brook mused, whispering low enough so that mom wouldn't hear ahead of them, "If
anyone should kill me one day, I wouldn't mind it being you. I trust you would make the kill
as painless as possible, you have the skills after all"

Damian frowned, but was not able to retort to her joke as a group of teenage girls beheld the
raven haired teen, and even obscured by his shades, they let out giggles wolf whistles his
way. Though this often occurred in school, Brook found herself annoyed by the group of girls
who looked like supermodels with their long legs and perfectly contoured faces.

Who did they think they were just harassing someone like that?

Brooklyn knew Damian would ignore them as he often did everyone in his path, but
Brooklyn was not gonna let those girls follow them around inside the museum like hopeful
puppies waiting for a bone. No, that would not do, especially since she had to keep on the
down low in public after all, especially with a Wayne.

So, as Brook climbed up the last few steps, she moved to intertwine her arm with that of the
demon, just to show that he wasn't here unaccompanied, and that others would be bothered
by their silky hair and bold attitudes.
Despite Damian's silent confusion, he did not push away from her hold, which allowed
Brooklyn the grand honor of flipping off the gawking and saddened girls, then without
turning back, she followed Pepper inside the dark building.

Damian had noticed her actions and merely squeezed her arm briefly with his own as if in
reluctant thanks for defending his honor from a social situation. Brooklyn didn't bother
mentioning that he'd gotten her out of uncomfortable encounters with Flash and Malcom
before.

This was simply... repaying a debt.

Brook might've relished in the fact that those rude girls had been put in their place, even more
so that she hadn't resorted to killing as she would have in the past when a man followed a
helpless woman home ,or when unnecessary words were shouted towards an unwilling
party...but then she and Damian beheld the large exhibits around them inside the museum.

This museum was not filled with ancient fossils or worldwide antiques, this was a different
kind of history brought to life.

Hero exhibits.

The place itself was huge, large enough to hold exhibits for all kinds of heroes, the Avengers
off to the left, Justice League beside them. Even smaller (even some controversial) groups
such as the famed mutant X-men, the Fantastic Four and some of the Teen Titans were up
there.

Unsure why mom had brought them to this place, they could only follow as she led them
through the exhibits. Most had little sections dedicated to each hero, containing a wax figure
like the ones Brook had seen with Pepper and Tony back in San Fransisco. They also had
hologram screens depicting old battles, and large rectangular stands with descriptions of their
early life.

They started off with the Avengers first. Criminal or not at the moment, the original six
heroes of New York stood there in all their wax glory.

Though Brooklyn knew quite a lot about the people she now considered family, it wasn't
often that they spoke of the hard stuff of the past, and she had never pressed about it
considering her own distaste of thinking on the dark times left behind.

But here, the teen read and saw it all.

First was the old footage from the Second World War her history book did not bother show.
The bloody battles Grandpa Steve took part of, the friends lost...the trauma.

Brook finally witnessed Uncle Bruce turning into the Hulk, watching as his body contorted
odd angles, eyes filled with pain as the sweet and shy doctor shifted into
something....terrifying, the beast he always claimed to hate.
Had Brooklyn not been so enchanted by the displays, she would've noticed her arm was still
wound around Damian's, but even he was too lost to move away, or to notice Pepper staring
at them with a quizzical brow.

No, Brook was too focused as she watched the famed god, Thor Odinson, fighting his crazed
brother, watched as he feel unconscious while a giant space ship came crashing down
towards him somewhere on Earth, a lone human woman placing her body uselessly before
his as if to take the hit as he bled for humanity.

The Stark beheld the little background on Uncle Clint, but watched as he bled and fought
using only a bow and hand-to-hand combat, all leaked SHIELD footage from the fall of the
organization years ago.

Sestra was not any different. Though it did show clips of her Avenger missions and work, it
too showed the assassin behind the hero. Old and low quality clips of the Black Widow
letting buildings explode. People meeting their end by her gun, but also the red-haired
woman volunteering at New York orphanages.

Then there was the last exhibit for the Avengers.

Her dad.

Staring up at his wax figure, Brooklyn tried not to flinch as she beheld the footage beside it.
There were clips of the battle of New York when he'd tried to sacrifice himself by taking
missile to space, some of his fighting against a giant robot of his own creation, a wild
terrorist blowing up Tony's home, the famed Hydra bases meeting their end by the Iron
man...so much footage laying his life bare.

Seeing all the blood, the injuries...the horror of what happened when he went out on a
mission... it broke her heart, even when she'd seen blood since toddlerhood, when her own
hands were stained as red as her rogue lipstick.

But it also showed the small things, like the charity work dad did, the grants and scholarships
Tony offered expecting nothing in return. Brook had often heard people call her dad selfish,
but nothing about these clips seemed to support that statement.

There she stood, frozen and unrecognized by the passing crowds who did not expect
Brooklyn Stark to be here of all places. The only thing that snapped her out of the trance was
the feeling of Damian's arm moving away from her own.

When Brook turned to find him, she realized why.

The next exhibit was dedicated to the Justice League, and some dumbass who had no clue of
their secret identities and the hate that ran through them decided to place the Batman beside
Iron Man.

Damian stood there before his father the way Brook was with her own. He too watched his
father fight, bleed, destroy. Though his expression was calm, Brook noticed his fisted hands,
especially when the Joker showed up in some of those clips. But they softened when the dark
knight did the simple things like stopping a robbery, or helping a suicidal person away from a
building ledge.

There they stood, looking so small compared to the heroes before them.

Thats when it hit her.

Pepper had brought them here to understand.

Sure, Brook and Damian were both incredible assassins, skilled beyond their age, but the
world ending problems required heroes...and they were not there yet.

Would they stop trying to help? Not likely.

But Brooklyn felt a surge of motivation. One day, Brooklyn would indeed become Iron man's
legacy, the world already joked as much even without knowing of her SHIELD agent status.

She was his dynasty, just as Damian was for the Batman.

One day, they would have to deal with all this, see war and death over and over, enough that
Brook understood why her dad was trying to keep her away from it all, to keep her safe.

Looking towards Damian, both teens stared at one another, then at the glorified wax figures
of their parents. The yellow glow of the Avengers exhibit clashed with the dark blue of the
Justice League, the line between both teens separating both exhibits prominent as it glowed a
bright red.

Maybe their weren't mad at the men behind the mask and helmet anymore, but both seemed
to mentally agree that one day, they'd live up to the legacy...one day. They'd work towards it
for now at least.

Pepper guided them silently to all the exhibits after that where the teens could silently smirk
at the wax figures of his siblings in their costumes. It seemed even vigilantes had a place in
the exhibit, but they still didn't sculpt Dick Grayson's butt right. What a shame, or at least
brook had said so as Damian dragged her away from the fake Nightwing with a frown.

Then after all that fun, mom took them for some ice cream at the food court on the third floor
as a special treat. Happy had joined them there with a frown of his own, but took mom to get
the ice cream as both teens beheld the exhibits below.

For once, Brooklyn had no clue what to say.

It was as if the sudden weight of her young age had slammed her back. No wonder mom
wanted Brook to at least have a semblance of a normal childhood before she got into all of
this avenging stuff.

This is likely why Pepper often seemed concerned as sad when she beheld Brooklyn sparring
or training. Mom knew exactly what kid of life Brook was signing up for because she'd likely
had to live it through dad.
Yet, Pepper had never forbade the teen from joining SHIELD or the Avengers.

When the adults cam back with the cones full of frozen goodness, Brooklyn had dared asked
as much, wondering why mom would allow her to sign up for that kind of stuff when Pepper
seemed so worried about it.

Mom had pushed back her long hair, pausing her consumption of chocolate ice cream as she
said not just to her, but to Damian as well, "Its not easy seeing you train for a life of war and
conflict. I've seen what it costs. But I also understand that heroes are important, that there are
people who have the skills to save the world like you two. I'd be an awful mother if I did not
allow you to do your part in helping the world be a better place, Brook. I still worry, and
every time something happens to you I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me...but
then I remind myself of your dad's words when he stopped making weapons and became Iron
Man, trying to explain it all to me"

Happy was smiling to himself, something sad instead of the usual mocking grins Happy
cherished so much.

"Tony said to me, I shouldn't be alive, not unless it was for a reason. I'm not crazy Pepper, I
just finally know what I have to do, and I know in my heart that its right "she added, sending
a chill down Brooklyn's spine as she clutched the golden necklace hanging against her neck.

Though Pepper rarely turned serious around her, those blue eyes became intense and she
stared Brook and Damian down.

"Now you two tell me honestly,"she said, leaning forward on the table, "when you two were
trying to stop the Joker, when you irresponsibly put your lives at risk when you saved those
people that would died by his hands...how did that feel?"

Brooklyn set down her strawberry ice cream, looking to Damian as they tried to figure out
the emotion in their hearts at the thought. When Brook had been fighting those mutants then,
and all the other times she'd saved people without Pepper knowing...

"I feel in my heart that it's right" Brooklyn admitted, watching as Damian nodded, and the
two adults smiled down at them (in Happy's case much less obviously).

It HAD felt right to save instead of kill, something that had once been difficult to work
around. It didn't feel right for the glory or the thrill of battle, but just because it was a gut
wrenching feeling that spurred her into action.

That same gut feeling she felt when a waitress walked by another table behind Pepper and
Happy. The man was getting a little handsy with the waitress, and because Brook was paying
attention, she could tell he was also being very rude about it on top of that.

That...Brooklyn felt like fixing that, even if it wasn't a huge battle or mission. But as the teen
had beheld, the heroes down below had sometimes started with small battles, fixing minute
wrongs that should not be.

Damian noticed it too, he was trying not to glare at the fat man.
One quick glance between one another, and that easily the teens moved in perfect
synchronized panning as they were often able to.

While Brooklyn excused herself to the bathroom, Damian moved to talk to Pepper and
Happy, asking about Stark Industries to keep them both busy. They did not need Happy to get
all protective after all.

So the teen smoothed down her black skirt, squaring her shoulders and walked over to the
table of the lone man by the window, who continued to insult his waitress.

As the woman left, clearly trying not to cry, Brook picked up the man's fork and leaned over
his shoulder to whisper, "I understand you're not happy with your meal"

"Do you work here?" the man asked, trying to turn around, only to stare at his reflection on
the yellow of her shades.

Brooklyn smirked, "Unfortunately, no" she said, then pressed the fork into his side, watching
as he groaned from the immediate pain.

No one around them had noticed the altercation thanks to the location of the table. Good.

Pressing a little harder, Brooklyn whispered, "Just so we're clear, this is pressed into your
brachial artery. It may be dull...but I'm determined" she said, then noticing the passing groups
of people, she urged the man to keep smiling as they passed. Thankfully he obeyed.

"Once you start to bleed, you'll lose consciousness in fifteen seconds. You'll die in ninety
unless someone comes to your aid" Brook added, then mused sarcastically, "Now, given your
recent behavior, how likely do you think that is to happen?"

When the man didn't answer, she pressed just a little harder, so the man shook his head.

Locking eyes with Damian across the small eating area, she noticed the secret half-smile he
shot her way, then turned back to Pepper inquiring about something she could not hear.

Whispering back to the man, she said, "To prevent this not entirely unfortunate event from
occurring, I suggest you find a new place to eat. Do we understand each other?"

In pain, the man replied a weak " Yeah"

Given by the sweating of his face and the fear in his eyes, Brooklyn was glad to see she'd
proven her point.

"Good" she said, then added with a little push of the fork, "Oh! One more thing...tip your
waitress generously"

Putting the fork down, Brook made her way back to the table and acted like nothing was
amiss. She was amused to see the man DID tip a few bills by the looks of it, and left short
after clutching his side in fear.
The two teens smirked, then preceded to enjoy their ice cream as Pepper told stories of Tony
and Bruce causing chaos at galas or even simple conferences. At some point, Happy had even
seem to grow less weary of Damian despite his last name. It helped that Damian had no
trouble talking shit about his own family at times.

The fact that Happy was no longer whining about her sitting beside Damian was already huge
improvement, the added fact that the man actually laughed at Damian's dry humor like they
were old friends was even scarier.

Not even Peter had brought a laugh out of the man...ever.

As if to get back at her for the incident at the previous restaurant, when Happy left to get the
car and Brook's mom went to pay the bill, Damian boldly took a bite out of her ice cream.

When she moved to shout his face off, he merely said, "You snooze you loose, Stark" licking
the strawberry desert off his lips. That had led to a little war between the two, as Brooklyn
took bites off his mint ice cream in retaliation, both going back and fourth until they had both
flavors of ice cream on their faces and people began to look their way with soft smiles.

Her nemesis did not laugh as Brook did when they beheld their reflections on the napkin
holder, but he did seem awfully relaxed when Pepper came back with a smile of her own at
the sight of the two teens at war.

Both Brooklyn and Damian were at ease for once as they made their way back to Stark
Industries, not so bothered by the small acts of 'heroism' they did on a daily basis. Now they
understood the importance of it all, and maybe one day they'd get the chance to help with the
Joker and weapon fiasco, but for now they could be patient at least.

The arrival back at the company hadn't been nearly as silent as it had been to leave.

There was screaming inside the office when they all arrived, and once Pepper opened the
doors, Tony and Bruce looked seconds way from killing one another while Tim sat off to the
side, scrolling his phone despite the loud yelling that could be heard from the hall.

Dad was practically atop his desk, ready to attack Mr. Wayne with a stapler when he noticed
the people by the door.

With a dismissive wave, Tony turned his anger into shock at the sight of Damian and Brook
standing passively beside Pepper. Dad wasted no time pulling her to his chest and away from
Damian, whom he shot a dirty look at.

"Daphne, don't stand too close to that Wayne!" he'd said, "That little..."

Just as Damian glared right back, not at all caring it was the Iron man he was about to try and
hurt, Bruce was suddenly by his side, pulling Damian further away still.

"Lets go Damian, I don't want to see you near the daughter of that man ever again" Mr.
Wayne said, glaring right at Brooklyn as he added, "If she'd anything like her father, I can see
why you hate her so much"
 For once, both teens did not add fuel to the fire or spouted their own hateful words to one
another. They just told there, being pulled further apart by their parents.

Once the Wayne's had left with a sleepy wink form Tim, Brooklyn turned to get one last look
at Damian before the doors concealed his retreating form. She noticed he still had a tiny
smudge of ice cream in the corner of his mouth.

When dad turned back to his desk, she flicked a finger at the spot on her own mouth.
Brooklyn barely got the chance to see him angrily tipping the pink spot away, then shot her a
middle finger when Brooklyn's mouth turned into a smile, right before the doors closed
between them with a deafening boom.

Not long after, dad had made her swear not to talk to the Wayne boy ever in her life, or so
much as be around him. Brooklyn was actually shocked when she was not able to make that
promise, not just because of the play or the work they secretly did...but because...well she
wasn't sure.

Tony had not noticed her silence as he ranted to Pepper about the audacity and self-
centeredness of the Waynes. Pepper thankfully, kept quiet about the little outing with the
Wayne, but she did send Brook a text once she got back to the apartment about it.

You behaved very well today despite the Wayne tagging along. I'm proud of you my little
hero. Today is our little secret.

****

Back in his own car, Damian was getting a similar if not identical lecture to keep away from
the Stark at all times, which Bruce knew would hold true without an answer since Damian
hated everyone anyways.

But Damian had not said a word, securely clutching the vibranium dagger in his pocket.

Unusually, his agreement came with a silent stare, but today he found that silence to be
something else. The teen shrugged it off, thinking it had to do with his everyday interactions
with the Stark he could not avoid. But some part of him moved to grab the sketchbook in his
backpack.

Thinking he had been dismissed, father turned back to discuss business with Drake while
Damian examined his lates drawings out of sight from the others in the limo.

Golden necklaces. Red lips. Brown eyes. Spiders. A farmhouse.

No, he could not just treat Brooklyn Stark as any other enemy. They were decent when
teaming up after all. Sure, she was still Damian's main annoyance, his beloved nemesis, but
hating her the way father did Anthony Stark...why couldn't he do that?

Chapter End Notes

Some little details.

I hope some of you caught the Peggy Carter reference in there, I couldn't help writing
that scene from my head.

This chapter was important to me because it will explain why both Brook and Damian
decide to settle into their lives for a few chapters, why they are not fighting tooth and
nail for answers or demanding to be involved in the mission without any way to help.

They learned that hero work isn't just saving the world, an idea both shared with their
assassin backgrounds. As an assassin, one does big jobs, killings that change the course
of things, so they always thought saving the world in that magnitude was the only kind
of heroic act that mattered.

Now they know differently at least, thanks to Pep. And the rift between families grew
further today, something else to note.

Also....I wonder what the brilliant Pepper Potts is figured out during this outing, don't
you?
 The Three Widows

Brooklyn POV-

Both her and Natasha turned to the door where Yelena was being separated from her
elaborate handcuffs.

This was not an unexpected event. They both came to the agreement earlier to invite the
assassin to their ballet practice in an effort to get her to ease into this life a little further.

Even though Fury had mentioned that 'Miss Belova' was not causing any trouble, Brooklyn
knew better than to be hopeful. Widows were often taught to bid their time for an opening.
This could just be Yelena waiting to leave, not to Ivan of course, of that Brooklyn was sure of
since she'd accepted a new name. But perhaps the blonde would decide to try her luck out in
the world, and both her and Nat wanted to at least give this helping effort a try.

So with a smile on her face, Brooklyn propped her leg down from the stretch bar and ushered
the confused teen inside.

Yelena was still in her SHIELD given attire, so the Stark handed over some proper ballet
clothes that were nothing like the black and grey ensemble from the Red Room, but a set of
black tights, a loose cream colored skirt that flowed beautifully, and a long sleeve white shit
to go under it.

Its was identical to the one her and Nat wore (gifts from the Black Widow herself), and when
Yelena accepted it along with he ballet shoes, Brook couldn't help but let out a relieved
breath.

"I'm surprised you both still dance" Yelena said in a heavy Russian accent, inspecting the
clothes in hand and the space around them now fitted for proper practice. Unlike the large
and cold space of the Red Room with dark floors and stained wood, this one was lit brightly
by colored lights, with a mirrored wall and a small table by the counter off to the side for
resting.

It was Nat, who was still stretching by the mirrored wall that replied confidently, "Our lives
aren't about completely letting go of the Red Room, its about using what they gave us and
turning it into something new and good. Dancing was never a bad thing"

With a slow nod of understanding, Brook led Yelena to the adjacent bathroom to change,
choosing to busy herself with more stretches as she waited with Nat.

"You think she won't try to kill me?" Brooklyn whispered, watching as Nat fashioned her
recently shoulder-legth cut hair into two loose braids.

"I don't think so" Nat admitted, "She's far too curious to try, plus she rarely gets to leave her
room, this is an improvement Yelena won't risk getting taken away. But I've been monitoring
her progress, the kid is changing, everyone is making sure of it"
Brook knew that of course, had she been in Yelena's shoes, the Stark would done the same. It
was just calming to hear it from someone else. Plus the news that she truly was doing well...it
was a soothing reminder that Brooklyn had done the right thing.

At least today would not result in blood or violence.

Natasha had been so busy lately with missions that they'd had little to no chance to practice.
Now that the weekend had rolled around and Nat had just come back from Washington, they
decided to spend their free time doing something that might help their fellow sestra relax as
well.

But while they waited...Brooklyn couldn't help but be nosy about a few things, a thing that
had slowly developed the more she hung out with Tanya, the self-proclaimed queen of gossip
of Queens.

Yesterday, when everyone had arrived back to the compound from their assignments around
the country, Brook had been busy greeting everyone back, but not enough to miss the way
Natasha had kissed Grandpa Steve's cheek in greeting. The teen had not missed the slight
blush on her grandfather's cheeks, or the way Nat had punched his arm afterwards to get
Steve to say something.

As someone who was trying to figure out what feelings were, especially with Peter around in
her head...well, she was curious what a fellow assassin was thinking and feeling.

Plus, Brook actually cared a great deal about both Steve and Nat, enough so to secretly want
them to find happiness amongst themselves the way her mom and dad had. The teen knew at
least half of the Avengers felt the same...including a grumpy Fury who would no doubt deny
it if asked.

So, despite her slight hesitation, Brooklyn paused her leg stretches and asked the woman
sitting beside her, "What's the deal with you and Steve, setra? You have both been spending a
lot of time together recently out of missions. But I thought you and Uncle Bruce had a thing
once?"

The widow went still for a second, then continued warming up her arm muscles as she
replied casually, "I suppose there is no lying to you when we are practically the same, is
there?"

Brooklyn couldn't help the rush of excitement at finding out something more about her sestra,
who she'd only been able to text occasionally as of late, not enough to have conversations
like this. Though Nat was equally as reserved as any good spy, it always made Brooklyn
happy that the woman was willing to share her intake on things, whether it be during training
or just as advice.

In some ways, after reading all those sibling books for Harley's benefit, Brooklyn couldn't
help but see that Natasha was kind of like a big sister in a sense, a true sestra not just because
of their origins.

So she inched closer, sitting cross legged before the great Black Widow to hear her story.
"I know you're not very familiar with emotions, and I truth, I'm still figuring much out
myself, trying to push Ivan's teachings out of my head even after all these years" Nat said,
leaning back on the polished wooden floor, "When I was dating Bruce...I was very attracted
to him. He was so different from me, or well us I guess... he's a guy who prefers peace, never
looking for a fight but spending his life avoiding them"

Suddenly, some of Tanya's confusing texts came back to her mind regarding romantic movies
Brook had watched but not completely understood.

"The opposites attract thing?" Brook asked.

Nat smirked, seeming surprised Brooklyn already knew about such matters.

"Yes, I suppose so" Nat said, "But that didn't work for me. Bruce and I were too different,
even when we're both Avengers. I thought that maybe by being with someone away from a
fight, that I would be better off..but I quickly realized that I can't change who I am. Being
with Bruce would've mean becoming something different, something neither of us were
comfortable with. So I guess opposites attracting isn't always guaranteed to work"

Opposites...like Brook and Peter? Peter was kind and shy like Uncle Bruce, someone who did
not like violence and had judged Brooklyn for her bloody past once upon a time. Peter had
likely never once committed a sin willingly, just like Bruce despite being the Hulk.

Would Brook, someone like Natasha, be doomed to never be with someone like Peter after all
then?

Playing with he lapels of her long flowing skirt, Brooklyn said, a statement rather than a
question, "Now you like Grandpa Steve"

Nat gave her an angry and threatening look, one Brooklyn did not flinch from after being so
used to Damian's own death stares for quite a while now.

Though the Stark still had the right mind to add rather wearily, "I'm just saying. Even I can
see you affection for him grows each day, the rest of the team sees it too, they just don't want
to die by your hands when bringing it up"

Brook had expected Nat to deny or ignore the comment, but instead, the widow smirked as
she leaned on her crossed legs, inching closer with amusement as she said, "Oh, you mean
like how you are starting to show affection for a certain Peter Parker? Nothing escapes my
keen eyesight sestra"

Brooklyn felt like dying of embarrassment.

How had Nat noticed that!? During training, Brooklyn had been very careful not to flush
when her and Peter accidentally touched, or let it seem like his compliments meant little
when if fact they meant the world to her.

But of course, Natasha Romanoff, arguably the best spy and assassin to ever live, had seen
though that mask just as Damian had that day after the costume fittings. Brook really
shouldn't have been so stunned. This was the woman who could aim and shoot a gun with her
toes, the same one who scored a 486 on Flappy Bird first try. Nat was the person the scariest
assassins in the world prayed to before they went to sleep.

Of course she'd found out...

Luckily, Brooklyn did not have to uselessly argue for her innocence, because thats when
Yelena made herself known, clearly having been listening in this whole time.

The blonde was dressed in the new clothes Brook had provided, and even though the white
long sleeve fit well, it was a little short on the arms, making the handcuff scar visible on
Yelena's wrist, the twin to Brooklyn's hidden under her watch.

Yelena's was more visible, more prominent from many more years spent cuffed to her bed
than Brooklyn had suffered. But Yelena did not seem to care in the slightest, she merely
leaned against the door of the bathroom and asked in a rather surprised tone, "You both
willingly succumbed to romantic emotions?... Who's Peter?"

Nat smirked Brook's way, but the teen merely stood up from the floor and tried not to sound
annoyed as she said uselessly, "I DON'T like Peter!"

Both widows hummed in disbelief, something Brook hadn't been expecting from Yelena, but
tried to focus on the fact that at least the blonde was getting comfortable talking to them,
enough to tease at least.

With her back facing the two, Brooklyn busied herself at the table choosing a track for them
to dance to, but she heard Natasha loud and clear as she said, "Peter is the spider boy Ivan
likely warned you about. Queen's famous superhero? He's a kind boy, I'd actually be more
surprised if Rosa did not fall for someone like him"

Brook felt her brow twitch. Its not like she was irrevocably in love with Peter Parker the way
Tanya was with MJ, or the way dad was with mom...

In order to get back at her sestra, Brooklyn added over her shoulder, "And Steve is the
Captain who's been bringing you books. The super soldier Ivan no doubt warned you about as
well"

Though the Stark could not see it, too focused on the stereo system before her, she head
Yelena hum in recognition. Indeed, all the Avengers had gone to visit and introduce
themselves to the spy at least once from what Brook had heard these past few days.

Since Nat and Brook wanted to help her, they felt the need to do so as well by bringing he
meals sometimes or little trinkets to keep the girl occupied while they all tried to convince
Fury to let her train.

Those that had secret identities had kept them a secret out of habits sake, but Pete had said
something about not being scared of Yelena after one visit, she'd been on good behavior with
him after all.
Said blonde settled down a good distance away from Nat to stretch on the floor, but still
asked "You said that so called Bruce was not a good match. How is the Captain any better?
He seems...hopeful and kind. Weak with trust"

That much was true.

Grandpa Steve was a caring person, someone Brook had come to know as the person to talk
to for a pep talk or just a shoulder to lean on after a long run. Though Brooklyn did not voice
it out loud, she too was curious how Nat began to like him as something more than a
teammate.

The widow did not show any reluctance to speak about private matter with the stranger, likely
in an effort to help Yelena or just to not make her feel like an outsider.

"He's a fighter like me" Nat explained "We both can't stand and watch as things go wrong,
probably why we're both criminals right now. Steve and I...we both have dark pasts we can
share with one another. Even if he seems like all the good in the world, Steve is flawed, and
neither of us has ever judged the other for it. He is more like me than the other Avengers,
someone I can trust not only to fight by my side, but to stay with me no matter what the
world says"

Oh....

Somehow that made a lot of sense.

Brooklyn had seen the two training before, like a unit who could read each other's minds. She
had seen them come back from long missions leaning into each other's tried bodies and even
sharing snacks during movie nights.

Nat seemed to be at ease with Steve the most out of everyone.

Turning back to sit with her sestras, Brook pondered, "So what you're saying is that for
people like us, its better to acquaint ourselves with someone similar to us?"

Even Yelena, who had found the concept of affection foreign minutes ago, seemed interested
in the answer.

"I'm saying that was my experience" Nat explained, "Love and fondness are tricky things,
stuff the Red Room never trained us for. Even I don't have all the answers where thats
concerned"

Brooklyn had chuckled at at, trying back her long red hair as she mused, "Likely why we're
doing so poorly at it then"

As if in agreement, Nat patter her back with a chuckle of her own.

Then, with the air around them more at ease at last, the three Red Room agents got ready to
let their worries dissipate if only for a few songs.
As soon as the gentle sounds of an orchestra filled the room, the three widows got into a
proper stance. Even though they had never danced together as a unit, their moves were
synchronized and flawless just as they'd been taught.

Their arabesque moves were preformed perfectly across the room, letting their flowing skirts
follow them like dancing silk on a phantom wind. Each turn, echappè, and glissande was
flawless enough that even Ivan would've been satisfied with the performance.

Half way through the song, Brooklyn stopped worrying over being backstabbed by Yelena,
and instead got lost in the music, letting her feet guide her though the gentle song, only
speeding up when the more 'violent' parts of the song arose.

It was liberating as always, letting the music take her somewhere far away.

This piece was something Nat and Brooklyn had been dancing whenever they got the chance,
using the choreography of another song that seemed to fit perfectly with this more modern
piece in an effort to not take them back to the cold and dark days of the Red Room.

It was intense, with nimble and swift moves as if they were in the middle of a fight, yet
enough emotion that Brooklyn imagined it to be a war with a sense of sadness and regret.

They were death, all three of them were trained to take out armies, but today they were just
three women and nothing more, regardless of who was criminal or not. None of the widows
ever faltered in their moves, not once.

The piece ended as quickly as it had come, leaving the three with arms raised and skirts
fluttering back into place form a final twirl. Yelena had actually been surprised they had
taken a break to begin with.

Brook was still catching her breath when clapping came from the entrance behind them,
where the teen caught sight of her dad, who was leaning on wall as seen from his reflection
on the large mirror.

He had come back from his mission alright!

Without a second thought, Brook broke form her pose and ran over to hug her dad, chucking
when they collided and his arms wound around her shoulders, lifting her off the air.

"You're alright!" she whispered, "Mom said you'd come back late!"

He otets smiled, slightly pulling her back to see her smile.

"Clint wanted to stop by to secretly say hi to his family. We couldn't say that over the coms
just in case Fury was listening" Tony clarified, then sent a salute behind Brook's shoulder
towards Natasha, who answered it with one of her own.

"You are a good dancer you know" he said to Brook, "I felt like I was watching the royal
ballet! You should show you mom some time, I feel like Pep would enjoy it"
Oh right...she'd never danced in front of anyone other than her sestra. Brooklyn didn't think it
was a big deal or anything, but even though she had no idea how dancing could make her
mom happy, the teen was already willing to do it.

Mom would never judge after all. She hadn't questioned the reluctant peace between her and
Damian, or the bits of information Brooklyn had found herself sharing about the Red Room.
So she nodded, shocked to see her dad was surprised by her agreement.

"Good, but that will have to wait till later," her dad said with a frown, "I actually came here
because I have a very important meeting right now and need Natasha to tag along to babysit
us"

After a brief nod from the woman, Natasha moved to change in the adjacent bathroom,
leaving them alone with Yelena.

Out of everyone that had gone to visit the girl in her prison, Brook had never heard her dad
being amongst them. He'd one expressed being very proud of Brooklyn being willing to help
Yelena, but he'd yet to get over the fact that the blonde had tried to kill his daughter, or worse,
take her away.

Right now, Tony was looking at the assassin with something akin to anger. Brook should've
really seen this coming, after all, she'd noticed her dad cared about family above all else.

Her otets stared down the weary teen, seemly getting ready for a fight.

Not sure if she should interfere yet, Brooklyn merely trailed her dad as he walked Yelena's
way, standing beside him as Tony said in the now familiar voice of the *Overprotective Iron -
dad Mode*, "Listen to me Miss Belova. I think its great that you're trying to do the right
thing, no one is rooting for you more than the Avengers in that regard. You can come to me
for help whenever you need it of course, but if you ever hurt my little girl...well, I won't be
very happy and I'll send you to my future wife to she can scold you big time. That is my only
warning"

As far as threats went, Yelena probably didn't quite understand what a horrible thing it meant
to be yelled at by Pepper.

The teen just nodded in acknowledgement to the threat, but added, "I was never able to live
up to the image and favor Ivan had for Rosa, no one was. But you are her father then? The
reason sestra changed into this tamed lion with emotions and hopes?"

Tony looked towards Brook, a worried look on his face as he likely recalled who his little girl
really was, or at least had been in the eyes of Yelena.

Turning back to Yelena, Brooklyn made sure her voice was steady as she replied for her dad,
"Actually, yes. He's also the reason that scar did not kill you a decade ago"

The young Stark pointed at the visible car on Yelena's neck, the one that was a hair's breath
from hitting a vital artery. Brook had only hesitated on that kill years ago because she'd been
thinking on what it would be like to kill her father in the future.
She wanted the assassin to know that the Avengers, that her family, had been good for
Yelena's life even back in the days of the Red Room. Let her understand how much these
people mean to Brook, and that if their lives were ever threatened, well...the blade wouldn't
miss next time.

Yelena's offensive stance backed off, and the teen turned back to the front door where her
guards were ready to take the girl back to the supervised room in the SHIELD building. The
assassin did not fight it, just walked over and let the handcuffs be placed on her body.

Before leaving, she turned back to the Starks and said with all the seriousness in the world,
"Emotions are dangerous things, you as a daughter of Ivan should know that better than
anyone...Rosa"

Not a threat, a warning. And that last part was not spat out violently, but mockingly.

With that, Yelena's chains received a tug forward from the SHIELD agents, but she managed
to shout back to Brook, "I enjoyed the dancing, sestra. Call for me again next time"

Ok...progress.

Yelena was still sometimes scary and closed off, but today had been good progress at least.

Being called Ivan's daughter HAD made Brooklyn very uneasy though, enough that when
Nat and her dad left for their meeting with the instruction to remain in her room till dinner,
Brook didn't have the energy to go back to the Avengers lounge...so she danced for hours
instead.

Song after song, Brook tried to forget her past, the scars on her body that matched Yelena's,
or the small voice in her head that once again insisted getting too attached to people could be
a very bad idea.

She knew better by now, knew that was a lie.

Family was power. Friends were power.

Ivan...he'd been a liar.

Brooklyn had barely noticed when the music stopped at last, or the small tears that were now
running down her cheeks at the thought of all the things Yelena must've withstood all these
years that made her like this.

Thats when she noticed the person by the door. It was not her dad leaning on the wall this
time watching Brook dance, but the last person she'd least expected to see in the Avengers
compound, especially after the outburst at Stark Industries a few days ago.

"I didn't think you had it in you to look so elegant. Looks like rumors of the Red Room prima
ballerinas were true after all" Damian Wayne said, clad in his usual civilian clothes and
expressionless scowl.
Brooklyn rushed over to his side, clutching his dark blue flannel as she struggled to keep her
voice from panicking, "What the hell are you doing here!? Why would you just sneak here
for no reason! If my dad sees you..."

Damian didn't seem terrified in the least. He merely shrugged as he replied, "My father and
the Justice League had to meet with the Avengers today, no one had time to argue locations
today. I snuck into the Batmobile and father didn't have the time or patience to take me back
home"

He was unbelievable....

"So you're just wandering around the compound? As if anyone would allow that"

Her nemesis shrugged once again, pointing out the door where Peter was busy talking to the
security personnel, as if convincing them to leave them alone.

"Parker was here as well when I arrived. He suggested we meet up with you while the adults
do their thing at the meeting we are specifically not allowed to attend"

Even thought that made sense, it was still very odd to see Damian here of all places. She
wasn't quite sure what to say about it or if she was glad or angry to see him during the
weekend.

Stepping into the room, the Wayne paused the rising music, then looked back at her with a
smirk.

"I thought the day I saw you cry would be the happiest of my existence" he said causally,
reminding Brook of the tears still running down her cheeks, which she wiped away angrily.

Brooklyn bitterly asked, "Is it not?"

"No" Damian confessed, settling down on a chair as he added, "Though I can't figure out why
you're crying. The song was not saddening in the least"

Well, its not like she could just tell him she'd been pathetically crying because seeing Yelena,
how closed off she was, all the scars on her body and the darkness in her eyes. Brooklyn
hated that the girl had to become what she was, especially since the Stark was always meant
to be worse.

Luckily, Peter chose that time to make his way into the room, eyes lighting up when he
noticed she'd been dancing.

Rushing over to her, Peter pulled her into a crushing embrace.

"Have you been dancing with Miss Romanoff? Your feet must be killing you again!" Peter
mused, pulling back to carry her with ease towards the table containing the stereo, the one
Damian was sitting by.

Of course, Peter still worried over the worn and abused injuries on her feet, especially after
dancing. So he always made a point to take care of her feet afterwards, knowing full well
Brooklyn wouldn't do it for herself.

Only, Damian seemed quietly surprised as Peter pulled out a kit from the cabinet behind her,
then began to bandage her sore and bleeding feet. When the Wayne's gaze did not move from
her feet, she said mockingly, "It's the price to pay for looking so graceful"

The demon looked away then, suddenly pushing Peter aside while mumbling the teen was
bandaging her feet wrong. Brook was about to argue Damian couldn't possibly do any better,
but he surprised her and Peter when he confidently began re-doing the bandages with ease.

"Since when do you know how to do this stuff?"Brook asked, trying not to gawk at the way
his calloused fingers held her feet steady. Even Peter was leaning over to get a better look.

"After the attack at your appointment I asked Alfred to teach me basic first aid procedures. It
seemed only logical I learn such a vital skill since we're out in the city being idiots all the
time" Damian said, low enough to indicate he was weary of being heard.

Brooklyn was...mostly certain there were no cameras in this room, but even she did not
bother emphasizing what that meant just in case.

Thats when another unexpected guest showed up at the door, carrying arms full of snacks and
chocolate all around his mouth.

"Guys, the kitchen has so many snacks!" Jon said happily, gesturing to the arms full of treats
and goodies no doubt from the Avenger's lounge, "Then I asked the room to guide me to you
guys and it did! How crazy is that!? Oh, hey Brook!"

The kryptonian levitated off the floor ever so slightly, flying over to her and dropping the
snacks on the table space beside her legs. When he noticed the bandages though, all mirth
and happiness vanished from his eyes.

"Oh my god what happened!? Damian! We were specifically told to behave here!" Jon said
moving to help, only to get his hands swatted away by Damian when the flying Kryptonian
tried to reach for the bandages now covering her feet.

"I didn't do this" Damian scoffed. With a nod from Peter, Jon calmed down, but stared at his
friend for a long while as the badges were put into place, as if he couldn't quite believe the
sight.

Let's just say, Jon became increasingly worried for her well being afterwards, enough to
refuse to let Brooklyn walk as Peter guided them to the game room while everyone was busy.
It was silly, being carried around by a flying kryptonian, but luckily, all of her family
members were locked in the conference room three floors up, so no one noticed.

Peter, being the good host out of the two, guided them to the game area he always seemed to
love spending his free time in. It was full of things every Avenger liked; A ping pong table
for Steve and Sam, some racing games for her dad, Nat, and Scott, and a variety of fighting
games and pinball machines for Uncle Rhodey and most recently becoming Harley's go to
machines.
Though Brooklyn rarely came in here willingly, there were times when movie nights became
game nights, and the teen spent her time with Uncle Clint and Peter down at the dart shooting
range, something even Uncle Bruce seemed to enjoy from time to time.

So while Peter dragged an equally excited Jon to the racing games, Brooklyn was finally
relishing in being set down on the floor, testing out the feel of the bandages on her feet when
Damian asked, "Why do you guys have this room?"

"Why am I not surprised the Wayne Manor doesn't have a room for fun?" Brooklyn teased,
but suddenly felt like proving to him the importance she'd come to find in playing silly
games. So she guided her enemy to the nearest pinball machine, where the two spent hours
trying to outperform the other's best score even when she'd been instructed by her dad to
never be around said teen.

At some point, Peter and Jon joined in, which had turned into a screaming mess rather than
the concentrated quiet she and Damian had preferred. By the end of it all, Peter turn out to be
the best out of all of them...only because he had many more years of experience with these
machines of course.

When the clock stuck six and FRIDAY mentioned the Avengers and Justice League were still
busy, Peter once again took it upon himself to suggest a fun activity, like going to the movie
room to watch something.

Jon had been quick to suggest a movie both he Peter seemed to love, so that settled that.

Though there was an empty seat between Brook and Damian, separating the four teens, as the
film fragged on, they'd all ended up huddled together when the movie grew darker and
scarier.

Brooklyn wasn't afraid of course, she and Damian hadn't screamed once, but they were both
growing tired. She couldn't quite pinpoint when she'd fallen asleep or when the others had
joined her.

Either way, thats how everyone found them hours later.

Thankfully, Brooklyn had decided to fall asleep against Peter's shoulder, otherwise her dad
and Mr. Wayne might've had a bigger fit.

She was the first to sense people around them, and Brook was also the first to look to the
other teens, finding Peter had been the one clutching her arm in his sleep, and that Jon had
practically crawled his body over the recliners, head resting on Damian's chest while the
Wayne slept like a corpse agains the reclined seat.

It was then, slowly turning towards the large monitor, that Brooklyn fully processed the fact
that she was sitting before legends she'd never met, only heard of.

Before her was Jon's father, THE Superman. He was the only one smiling down at the teens,
but looked god-like...muscles big enough to rival Grandpa Steve's who stood not to far from
Brook's dad. He could kill her easily for sure.
If that wasn't enough, the amazon of legend was also there, standing beside the Batman (ugh)
and other notable heroes like the Flash and Aquaman.

Eyes wide, Brooklyn gently nudged Peter awake, only for him to mutter sleepily, "Just a few
more minutes" then snuggle back against her neck. The move made Brooklyn freeze up in
embarrassment, especially when Sam and a knowing Nat burst into quiet giggles.

At least that noise was enough to wake Damian from his slumber. When he first opened his
eyes, the demon's face turned to face her with a frown.

"Stop making so much noise, Stark" he whispered, "Some of us need to rest off that awful
movie"

Brow twitching from anger, she whispered back, "Tell that to your entourage"

That quickly, Damian looked at the heroes blocking the screen. Unable to stand thanks to
Jon's body, he merely said to the them with a stiff expression, "You barely finished your
meeting? Had I been there we would've been done hours ago and I wouldn't be stuck here
with them"

Brooklyn pinched his arm but said to her side of the family, "I hate to agree with him, but its
true. You guys took forever"

Tony frowned, eyes clothing his head as he clearly debated carrying her away from the
Wayne as he said, " I thought I told you and Peter to go to your rooms!"

Brooklyn eyed everyone, then said, "Had I been at the meeting, this wouldn't have happened"

It was Bruce who moved forward, fingers resting tiredly against his temples as he said, voice
deep and commanding, "First of all, I told you to stay away from the Stark, Secondly, I know
you kids want to help, especially you Damian, but must I remind you what happens when you
interfere with Justice league cases?"

Damian, face stone cold and fearless replied, "Yes, the case gets solved"

Brook really had to try to fight her smile from appearing, but Peter, who'd slowly been
waking up beside her, had to muffle his laughter against her shirt. Not that she cared or
noticed though.

That was when Jon shot up sleepily and said, "Oooh!"

"You were asleep" Damian said, flicking his sleepy friend on the forehead, "You don't even
know what I said"

Jon levitated off the chair, stretching mid-air as he replied back, "I didn't but I felt it"

"Felt what?" Superman asked, looking up at his son with a perfectly raised brow. (Seriously,
Brooklyn still couldn't believe the reporter from the gala was actually Superman all along...)
Jon, now awake and filled with energy stared down at the adults with a smirk as if he was the
only one who did not mind them being here.

"I felt it. The power of the burn"

That was enough for Peter and Brook to join the Avengers into a fit of chuckles as Bruce
practically dragged Jon back down to the floor. Damian stood up then, frowning at the
audience while he got ready to join Jon and the Justice League out to the door.

But of course, dad couldn't leave things peacefully like that, so he said to the Wayne, "Next
time maybe we SHOULD have Bruce Jr. join, he certainly seems more competent than you
Brucy, putting you in your place like that"

The room went silent as the Wayne took of his black mask and turned back slowly to say, "As
if your childishness is any better"

It was Nat and Brook that whispered under their breath almost in sync, "Oh boy, here we go"

After a series of small jabs that followed, it was Damian that hurled his way over to Brook's
dad after a particular comment about Tim being the only semi-competent Wayne.

Like hell she was gonna let that happen, so Brook launched herself off the recliners and
tacked the young Wayne to the floor, fighting to pinch his cheeks as he tried to pull her hair
in defiance. It was not meant to hurt him, because somehow doing that felt...wrong now, but
rather to keep him from fighting her dad.

A useless move really.

Brooklyn wasn't sure how, but soon both their parents started their own brawl, collapsing
atop the snack bar especially when dad called an Iron man suit to the room. In an effort to
stop the small brawls, everyone else joined in until the movie room as filled with shouts and
relatively harmless attacks between Avengers and Justice league members.

Jon and Peter just stood there, watching it all unfold, especially as Wonder Woman used her
famous lasso of truth to restrain Sam, making him confess his love for Gossip Girl.

It was amidst that chaos, as things broke and Brooklyn was about a hairs breath away from
breaking into laugher with Damian, who for some reason was also making sure not to
actually fight her (likely because of their reluctant alliance), the room went silent as a
command rang across the room.

All stopped as soon as Pepper came into the room with Harley and yelled at the room full of
heroes to stop their nonsense.

She practically hauled Tony and...oh my god...and Bruce Wayne by their ears.

In that moment, even Damian was staring at the display with satisfaction, even when he was
currently beneath her.
Brooklyn couldn't be more proud of her fierce mother as she made the Justice League
members and the two kids leave while making the Avengers side of the room go downstairs
to make diner as punishment.

Damian likely just loved seeing his father suffer.

Either way, all teens in the room silently agreed this was revenge for not letting them join the
mission, all but Peter of course because he was the only one with class.

On their way out, Damian didn't say a thing to Brook as he moved away from her body, but
he did look back once he was by the door, shooting a death glare at Pete who'd collapsed
against Brook from laugher in a warm embrace.

Peter was quick to scramble away from Brooklyn then, which was weird, but the teen was to
busy glaring at a smirking Nat on the other side of the room, who was giving Aquaman his
large fork back.

That glare didn't stop Natasha from showering Brook with quiet kisses across the table during
dinner, or the raised brows when Peter would do something as simple as hand over a bowl of
food for the Stark.

It had been a weird day as it was...but now that Nat had license to openly mock her...it just
made Brooklyn do the same when Steve did something nice to her or picked up conversation.
Tony had caught sight of that, enough for him to join discreetly as Pepper and Harley shot the
two amused smiles.

That night, Brook and her dad had to run to their rooms with a murderous Natasha trying to
kill them.

In the comfort of her bed, but still too scared to sleep should Nat come to kill her, Brooklyn
followed her usual routine of calling the Wayne on their walkie-talkies. It appeared he too
had faced some mocking remarks from the Justice League regarding his peaceful sleeping.

The two had complained about not being allowed to help the heroes for some time, even
going as far as to plan to spy on them from now on to get information. They had been patient
recently after their trip to the museum, but the fact that the heroes had met last minute, not
bothering to argue on locations, meant that they must've gotten a serious lead.

They'd find out what it was eventually of course...

That night when they two decided to call time, Damian had asked, "How much did the Red
Room make you dance? Your feet had a lot of old wounds and scars"

Observant. That damn demon was so observant.

As always, she felt little need to lie to him of all people, even when they had gotten into a
silly brawl hours ago and Brook dad had reminded her to stay away from the Wayne at all
costs.
"Since I could stand" Brooklyn said, burring her face under the covers of the bed in her room
of the compound while she added, "We sometimes danced for hours or for a full day until one
of us couldn't handle it. That girl would always die on the spot"

The line went silent briefly.

"Yet you still dance"

It was with a small smile that the girl had replied sleepily and slightly bruised, "My Grandpa
Steve always says that the pain of yesterday is the strength of today. So yeah, I still dance"

After a yawn on the other end of the line, her nemesis said quietly, "Pain is not bad, its good
sometimes. It teaches you things. I understand that"

Brooklyn felt asleep knowing full well the Wayne DID understand. He was the one who
always understood.

They both had dark pasts they could share with one another, and neither has ever judged the
other for it. Damian was more like her than the others in the compound, someone she could
trust not only to fight by her side, but to stay too.

Brooklyn, in her sleepy state, couldn't figure out where she'd heard those exact words before.
By morning, she'd forgotten all about that unanswered question.
 Family Day

Brooklyn POV-

This was an awful idea, something no fool being hunted by the Joker and the Red Room
should be doing, even with grade A SHIELD security around the park...

Yet here she stood, with her parents and Harley, staring out at the large expanse of Central
Park, one of the largest public areas in all of New York. Today it was closed to the public,
reserved for the wealth of the country to remember the true importance of family over money.

Despite that claim on the main banner, the whole think looked to be as expensive as all the
country's birthday parties combined into one. The place had to have thousands of balloons at
least, decked with various outdoor games and at least two dozen large tents that might as well
have been the size of a small home.

This was Family Day.

Looking beside her, Brooklyn tried very hard not to laugh at the track suit like outfits they all
bore, identical in their red and gold colors to signify the Stark family for the event. Similarly,
each family scattered in the park bore their own colors, making a rainbow of people flutter
around the expanse.

It was Harley who clutched nervously to her sleeve, looking out at all the unfamiliar faces
with something akin to fear.

So, as the sibling and family books recommended, Brooklyn wound her arm around his
frame, pulling him close as she said, "Don't worry Harley, I'll be the one competing with dad
this year, that way you can be prepared when you're ready"

The boy smiled up at her and asked, "Have you done this before, Brook?"

Um, well no.

If she was being honest, Brooklyn was probably just as terrified as her younger brother.
Though she'd been slowly getting used to the media attention that came with being a Stark,
she was still weary of large crowds full of strangers.

Ivan could be watching...he could've sent someone to kill her, or worst, be here himself.
Should she check every possible sniper point in this park? Should she make sure Happy ran
background checks on all the security again?

But paranoia would do no good today, not when today was a momentous occasion.

This was the first 'official' public appearance of the Stark family since the media
announcement of Harley joining them. This was her chance to let the world see them strong
and united, for Brooklyn to convince the world that she was normal and worthy of her title as
heiress to her name.

This was supposed to be a day to finally enjoy with her family without school or missions
getting in the way. Nothing could get in the way of that.

The CEO family event was superficial in many ways, but to the Starks, it was their first day
to truly bond. To Brooklyn, that suddenly meant more than anything and if Ivan or any
powder-faced clown dared get in the way...then they would meet a very unfortunate end.

It was her dad that ushered them inside, hand in hand with Pepper who smiled down at the
two teens.

"I didn't think I'd ever get to come to this event as Tony's fiancee, that he would get to show
up with with two amazing kids" Pepper said, "Today is not about winning kids, but about
remembering that we stand together"

Her otets nodded, but added with a little Stark mischief, "True, but if we have the chance to
win and beat those awful Waynes...then we can stand together and also win, right?"

Brook and her dad smirked at each other. Oh yes, they would win, make sure that if the
Waynes did show up, they would remember the Stark win for decades to come, never rising
from the ashes of their humiliation!

When dad had mentioned all CEO families would show up, well she'd texted Harry for
confirmation, then realized the Waynes might come as well. The Starks hadn't competed
since Tony's father had passed away, and the Waynes hadn't competed in recent years, but this
was the Stark comeback, Waynes or no.

Sure, she had a temporary alliance with Damian and he would likely never show up to an
even such as this, but it was as if her hope to see him around summoned him after all.

Behind them by the drop off area, a black car opened its doors, revealing the 'all mighty'
Bruce Wayne in a black and grey tracksuit identical to that of everyone else's in the event.
From the back seats, two people emerged.

The first was the famed Tim Drake, the guy who became co-CEO of Wayne Industries as a
teenager, the one Damian often expressed his distaste of and was perhaps ever threatened by
at times.

The guy, despite being adopted, had black hair and fair eyes like Mr. Wayne. Still looked
tired like the last time she'd seen him at Stark Industries. Did he even sleep?

From what Brook understood, he'd once been a Robin, one who was now retried and chose
instead to run the company in Bruce Wayne's absence as well as provide technical support
from the sidelines during missions.

It sure showed it, the guy looked handsome yes, but if you looked close enough, one could
see the signs of sleepless nights, small dark circles under his eyes...eyes which were trained
on a small tablet even at an event like this.

Then came out the one Wayne she least expected, Damian Wayne in a tracksuit like his
family, looking annoyed and bored. There was something seriously wrong with seeing
Damian in something other than a flannel or a turtleneck, even if he....if he still...likely
seemed handsome to everyone else.

Brooklyn had expected the urge to kill and fight to arise as soon as she saw her enemy, but as
of recently, that instinct had dimmed substantially. Now she could only think of the days
spent together fighting crime in Queens, the long talks at night, and the semblance of trust
she unknowingly bestowed upon him.

It seemed, she was the only one with that kind of thinking.

As soon as Tony caught sight of the Waynes, it was like his eyes lit up the way they often did
when he was int he midst of solving a problem or managing to beat Grandpa Steve during
training.

To Pepper, that look meant only one thing. Trouble.

Before mom could stop him, dad shouted, "Brucy! You made it after all!"

The dark haired man turned their way then, face hard and angry as he tried to stare down
Brook's dad. His expression, the way he stood, it screamed Batman. It was honestly shocking
that no one else aside from the Starks and the Joker had figured out his secret identity,
especially since Mr. Wayne 'funded' the bat vigilante as public knowledge.

People were so stupid sometimes...

As the Waynes made their way towards the event, Brooklyn noticed the way Harley made to
hide behind her shoulder. He'd never met a Wayne, likely only heard from dad that those
people were our family enemies. To someone who hadn't grown up an assassin and seen the
true horrors of the world, the Waynes with their stone cold expressions could probably be
terrifying now that she thought about it.

So she smirked and whispered to her brother, "Relax kid, believe it or not, they are as human
as we are. Dad just likes to say silly things to Mr. Wayne, but I'm here to protect you
regardless"

Harley smiled, moving to stand by her side then, but he extended a hand out. Realizing the
blonde wanted to take her hand as support, Brooklyn reluctantly did just that, not entirely
used to the action but willing to do it if it brought her sibling comfort.

Thats how the two opposing families faced off at the entrance of the event, standing before
one another as Brook didn't fail to notice the crowds turn silent around them. While the
Waynes remained stoic, it seemed the Stark's were all going for amused expressions, even
Harley who seemed more at ease at last.
Before Brook was Damian, staring down at her with a raised brow as if to say, 'Beloved
nemesis, you're here'.

Unable to speak to him properly with their fathers standing beside them, Brooklyn only shot
her nemesis a subtle wink back to reply, 'Of course, my esteemed rival'

With their sworn allegiance towards the Shakespeare play and their secret vigilante
endeavors, the two didn't often get the chance to compete anymore. Even academically, the
two had been getting equal perfect scores on everything.

Perhaps this would be a chance to really challenge one another, granted it was Damian who
competed and not his brother. But there was something about Damian's stance and
determination that made that almost a certainty. The demon had not come to sit around, he'd
come to win.

Usually, when her competitiveness ignited due to the Wayne before her, it was to crush and
destroy him of course, but in that moment, it truly felt like a game. Not to the death, but for
fun.

That was new.

Beside Brook, her dad said to Mr. Wayne, "I have to say, I thought you wouldn't show up
today. At least now Brooklyn and I will have some real competition"

Despite the eye roll from Pepper, her prayers for peace went unanswered as the Wayne
replied, "Well, my son insisted on coming" he said, pointing to a glaring Damian, "But now it
appears we will have to show everyone who the true superiors are after all"

Beside Bruce Wayne, his son Tim looked nearly identical to Pepper when he rolled his own
eyes in exasperation, as if he was already done with this crap as well.

With that promise of 'death', the two families made their separate ways to their colored tents.

By that point, Tony and Brooklyn were putting their brains together for plotting and planning.
They knew they were already at a disadvantage since neither had experienced these games
while the Waynes had.

Still, Brooklyn knew they had one thing going for them. She actually got along great with her
dad, while Damian and the rest of his siblings seemed to have a vendetta against theirs. That
she could work with.

So, before heading out for the first event, the Starks gathered around a circle, fists colliding
in the middle.

From that position, the teen could see Harley's new golden bracelet, the one Pepper and Tony
had made for him as a sort of welcome gift into the family. Harley's bracelet consisted of a
cleverly woven gold chain with a small Harley-Davidson car in the middle, just as Brook had
her golden Brooklyn Bridge necklace. The fact that this had become a family tradition/joke
was still beyond her, but that was Tony's idea of humor.
Seemingly excited and relaxed for once, Tony smirked and said, "Today we win this, for
family"

The three other Starks grinned back and shouted back in unison, "For family!"

(On a tent on the other side for the park, as cleverly panned out by the coordinator to prevent
Stark-Wayne drama, Bruce stared down at his two sons, who were resting on a black couch
ignoring one another. Thats when the man said, voice strong and with nothing but raw
command, "We will win this... because I told you so"

Damian merely nodded, determination in his own eyes as Tim took the chance to chant back
bored and with no ounce of enthusiasm, "Yeah! Because you told us to!" )

While the non-participants gathered on the outskirts of the area of the first event, the
competing pairs slowly work their way over to a starting line. From what Brooklyn
understood, the first event was a simple race, but one that would be done with a leg tied
together for each pair.

It was some nonsense about working as a team, but Brooklyn was already very proficient
when it came to teamwork thanks to her schooling hours and vigilante work. So as a
volunteer tied a red bandana on her right foot and her dad's left foot, the girl looked to her
opponents, not very threatened by many but the Waynes who were on the opposite side of the
line of contestants.

Then a familiar pair came to take the spots beside the Starks. On Brook's side was Harry and
his dad, both dressed in green and red. As a green bandana tied them together, Harry silently
shifted slightly to hug Brook.

"I can't believe you finally came to one of these things!" Harry said enthusiastically, patting
her head fondly.

Brook chuckled, "Well, I have to set a good example for Harley" she said, pointing at the
audience where Pepper and Harley stood. As per his usual friendly attitude, Harry wasted no
time waving at the newest Stark, who replied with a shy wave of his own.

Those two had only met through a video call long ago, but Harley had mentioned something
about liking Harry's confidence and friendliness, something Brook's friend had been very
flattered by.

While Harry and her dad exchanged quick greetings, Brook turned to Harry's dad, who did
not seem particularly happy to be there, but busy typing away on his phone instead.

The Stark recalled his serious personality from the first time she met the man at the gala, but
Brooklyn would've expected him to at least share in the festive feel the hundreds of people
here possessed. It was almost like he didn't want to be here at all...

Someone else's voice brought Brooklyn back from her confused thoughts. The group now
beside her dad were the Luthors, the father and son pair looking like the complete opposite of
Mr. Osborn, it was like they were overflowing with energy.
It was Mr. Luthor who had shouted, "Miss Stark, what a pleasure to see you here! Bet you
missed your Uncle Lex, right?"

Ah great, that guy.

Though he seemed relatively harmless on an assassin's perspective, the Luthor was still very
odd in Brook's eyes. Just as Harry had once warned, the man had a few loose screws
somewhere. He was loud, ecstatic all the time, and apparently still very keen on initiating a
friendship with her.

Despite her distaste, Brooklyn answer back politely, "Its good to see you Mr. Luthor, and
your son as well"

At his mention, the teen leaned forward to lock eyes with her own. Like his father, the teen
had the same green eyes as his dad, but the rich brown hair of Mrs. Luthor by the crowds
near Pepper and Harley.

Like the last time they'd met, the teen seemed very quietly natured, the only one making it
easy for the volunteer to tie his leg with that of his father's who was moving around far too
much to make that grey bandana stay.

Still, like last time, the teen was polite, bowing his head her way.

"Its a pleasure to see you again, Brooklyn. You're radiant as always" Lex Jr. said nervously,
earning a pat on the back form his flamboyant father while Harry made a quiet choking noise.

"Its like I said Tony, your daughter and my son should definitely meet up! Maybe we can set
up a fun supervised date for them to get to know one another!"

Brooklyn felt like moving over there and shoving that idea somewhere very uncomfortable
for Mr. Luthor. Thankfully, the pair that moved to stand beside the Luthors intervened just in
time.

She recalled them as well, surprised she already knew many of the families here from the
gala all those months ago. The man with the graying hair and kind smile was Mr. Reed
Richards, a friend of her dad, and his son beside him.

Last time Brooklyn went to the gala, she'd met the man and his wife, Sue Richards. They had
spoken of having two children, a baby named Valeria, and a teen named Franklin, who was
supposedly a mutant. Looking at the blue (almost silver colored) eyed boy with the dark
shade of brown hair and gentle expression like his parents, Brooklyn realized he was nothing
like the other mutants she'd met.

For starters, he wasn't trying to kill her, but he also looked completely human. No sign of
scales, wings, or moving tattoos of any sort, Franklin Richards looked completely normal as
he waved their way while his father said to the maroon/grey themed Luthor, "Now Lex,
imagine how awkward a set up date would be? Surely we're not that cruel as to put two teens
in that situation"
Brooklyn and Harry shared an amused smile as Mr. Luthor reluctantly nodded in
understanding, mumbling to himself about dates being delicate subjects.

It was to the dark blue and white track-suited Richards that her otets frantically waved to, and
greeted past the Luthors like old friends. After Brooklyn waved at the friendly pair, she
couldn't help but turn to see what had made Mr. Osborn talk after all.

Beside him were a man and teenage girl. Both had the most beautiful dark skin, dark hair, and
unlike all the other tracksuits the families bore, theirs were colorful, in an African print that
stood out above the others.

While the man was engaged in a calm conversation with Harry's dad while an orange banana
was tied on his leg, it was the teenage girl, who was likely as old as the rest of the teens
around Brook, turned her way and smiled.

Brooklyn didn't have to be a genius to realize who the girl with the dreadlocks was. Even if
that teen wasn't royalty of Wakanda, a newly famed country due to their advanced technology
and large supplies of vibranium, Princess Shuri was famed for her intelligence even at such a
young age.

Though this was clearly an event mostly for the wealth of the country, the Wakandans were
heavily involved with improving this place, even when it wasn't their own. Tony often spoke
to King T'Challa on the phone actually, Brook had heard them speak of nanotechnology
improvements since Brooklyn had once suggested vibranium could be used for such things.

Brook knew T'Challa was also the famed Black Panther, the whole world knew that by now.
But he had a special connection to the Avengers that the teen was still trying to figure out
from what happened during the hero civil war that had almost driven Brooklyn's family apart.

Despite the pair clearly being royalty, Tony also greeted them with friendly familiarity.

"T'Challa! Long time no see! Ah, Shuri! I'm glad you agreed to come to the Stark Expo, we'll
be honored to have you!" Brook's dad shouted.

Both Wakandans brought their crossed arms to their chest, a greeting Tony reciprocated,
which Brooklyn joining in a heartbeat later. In her defense, she'd never been around royalty
before!

It was the princess that said in a strong African accent, "This must be the famous Brooklyn
Stark from the media. Its nice to meet you, your father speaks many praises of you. You
should come to Wakanda one day, we can work on that nanotechnology idea of yours"

She'd heard about that!

Suddenly unnerved by the lack of formality, Brooklyn ignored Harry's amusement to reply as
calmly as possible, "Its an honor to finally meet you, Princess. I'd consider it a great honor to
go to your country when the opportunity presents itself"

Brooklyn's dad bumped her shoulder dramatically.

"Don't be like that Daphne, those two are practically family too!" Tony said as the two royals
smiled her way and nodded in agreement.

It appeared that there was still much in the world of the wealthy she still had to get used to
after all...at least now Brooklyn knew why it had been so easy for dad to get vibranium.

Thankfully, the coordinator of the event picked up a mic then, standing before the line of
contestants as he announced the beginning of the first event, the importance of good
sportsmanship, and something about playing fair.

Brook wouldn't need cheating to win this anyways.

With that, Brook and Tony linked arms, and after the sound of the gun went off, the two
practically sprinted with all their will power to the finish line without bothering to look back
once.

****

So far, the Waynes and Starks were tied.

The first event had been won by Brook and her dad, if only because the closest contestants
(the Waynes), had been hindered by Mr. Wayne's larger body and much larger strides.

The rush from that first win had been short lived when the Waynes managed to win the
second event of the day, if only because Brooklyn's dad was apparently not as gifted with a
bow and arrow as he was with a blaster.

Seeing Damian's winning smirk...oh, it was on from then.

Though the Wakandan royals were also very prominent competitors, they focused more on
having fun than winning, leaving the famous family rivalry to fight for first place in every
event.

Apple picking. Stark victory.

Outdoor Bowling. Wayne victory.

Badminton. Stark victory.

Capture the flag. Wayne victory.

That last one had been particularly infuriating because Damian had no qualms showing
acrobatic skills to capture the flag. it hadn't been cheating, but a skill he claimed to have
learned form his eldest brother.

All throughout the events, the crowds and competitors had praised Brooklyn, whispered
about her being the perfect daughter, a worthy heiress that could rival the great Tim Drake.
Though she found some sense of relief from the positive attention and comments, some part
of her felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing.
They expected her to be the girl from the magazines, the interviews. One of them.

But Brooklyn had been a killer, a spy, a murderer. She was almost glad the event would be
over soon if only to get away from the watchful and judging eyes and go back to trying to
figure herself out in the peace of her mind, family, and friends.

It wasn't until the last event, the one that would determine the first place win, that Brooklyn
felt like her body was shaking with excitement. Like all the other events, Tony made a point
to send a mocking grin towards the Waynes as Brooklyn sent a wink to her own nemesis.

This was it. The Scavenger hunt.

It was then, in the midst of looking for hidden golden chocolate coins around the park, that
Brooklyn missed being partnered with her dad. He'd gone off to cover more ground, taken the
left side of the park while she took the right. Granted most families had taken that same
approach, with the kids and teens going off their own way, but Brooklyn wasn't too
threatened so far.

Though Brook and Damian HAD bumped ways more than once since the thirty minute mark
began, seemingly having the same ideas for hiding spots, they didn't waste much time
talking. In fact, the only reason they'd actually briefly stopped was because they weren't
looking and tackled the other to the green grass.

Laying above Damian, Brooklyn had shouted, "Seriously!? We have to stop looking in the
same places! This park is big enough to fit a stadium in, go somewhere else!"

Damian had flicked her forehead, albeit lightly, but it still pissed her off. In retaliation,
Brooklyn had used their position to squeeze his cheeks. Only the memory of the ticking time
had made them part ways after that, but it hadn't been in bad terms at all. Both were
determined to win, but not angry at one another.

Odd.

So the search continued. Brook had shed her red/gold jacket long ago, but now she used it as
a basket of sorts where her dozen or so coins laid safely. Despite the loud music and the
endless excited shouting form the crowd lounging by the park benches around them, the
Stark was so deeply focused, she barely registered Harry's arm coming to rest around her
shoulders.

"Hey Brook!" Harry said, whistling at the amount of coins nestled in her jacket, "You're
doing really well! Can I eat those when you're done?"

Despite her competitive drive, Brook paused her searching to see Harry had no coins
whatsoever that she could tell him to eat instead. Now that she thought about it, he and his
father hadn't been in the first three places in any of the games, which was odd considering
how athletically inclined Harry was.

When she'd mentioned as much, Harry seemed to get a far away look, his bright smile
faltering as he mentioned dejectedly, "Yeah, dad isn't really into this stuff so we never really
win, even when I try to make up for his..lack of enthusiasm"

That stopped the Stark dead in her tracks.

"He doesn't even try?" she asked, looking around only to see the man sitting on one of the
park benches by the shade as everyone ran around him searching for coins. Mr. Osborn was
too busy on his phone to seemingly care.

"It's funny" Harry said, staring back to where his father sat, "This is supposed to be a family
thing but he always comes out of obligation, chooses to ignore me. I thought with the Starks
and Waynes coming he might be a little more interested to participate, but all he cares about
is work"

For some reason, Brooklyn was getting angry. Really angry.

That man had an amazing son, one he ignored willingly! Maybe it was the neglect, the
reminder of her birth mother, that made Brook practically stomp over to the man, the
competition long forgotten as she stood before him.

It took a while for the man to notice the shadow cast above him, but when he did, Mr. Osborn
smiled, "Miss Stark, what a pleasure. Is there anything I can do you you?"

Oh, now he was friendly and paying attention!

Bastard...did he not know how valuable family was!? How short life could be!? Here he was
wasting precious moments on his phone like it was nothing!

Fighting back the instinct to judo flip him to the grass and punch his old face over and over,
Brooklyn instead turned to her manners, fighting the burning in her body that wanted death
and pain.

That wasn't who she was anymore after all.

Despite Harry's arm trying to pull her back, Brooklyn stood firm as she looked down at the
poor excuse of a man and said, "Should you not be playing? With Harry, you two could've
won this competition for sure"

The man raised a brow, "Succeeding is not in Harry's nature, Miss Stark. He's a useless cause
when it comes to that, even when I hoped him being friends with you and Mr. Parker would
change that"

"Brooklyn" Harry whispered by her ear, "Its not worth it, lets go. Remember you have to beat
Damian Wayne"

The man looked up at the two teens with a frown, standing up to say, "Harrison, don't harass
this girl. I know you have a hard time keeping away from pretty ladies, but distracting her
from the game to go hook up somewhere is unacceptable"

Did Mr. Osborn just assume that was the only possible explanation from a simple glance!?
Did he thing that little of his own flesh and blood!?
Despite Harry's pulling and the other competitors stopping by to behold the confrontation,
Brooklyn turned her reluctant smile into a scowl, even when her own dad was now watching
in the sidelines along with all the other families Brook had met today.

Brooklyn didn't care about reputation in that moment, not even winning, she only cared about
putting this idiotic man in his place.

Now, Brook was no better at reading people than she had been a minute ago, but in that
moment, she suddenly began understanding the boy that was Harry Osborn. People, or at
least his pig of a father, had low expectations of him, so he did as well.

She also suddenly realized that, as unlikely as it seemed, they had that in common.

Both were constantly boxed in by others' expectations. It didn't matter that people expected
everything of Brooklyn and nothing of Harry aside from going to parties and hooking up. The
thought of that was enough for Brooklyn to glare at Harry's father with all the intensity of her
Red Room training, making the man relent a few steps back, almost crashing on the bench
he'd been lounging in.

Though he was a good head taller or two than the Stark, they both seemed to feel as if she
were the one staring down at Mr. Osborn in that moment.

"Your son is CAPTAIN of the football team! He's been the captain of the basketball, baseball,
and volleyball team since middle school! He is NOT useless! I know for a fact that even
though we are barely juniors, universities have already scouted him, and that his grades are
good enough to make it into those schools without sports having a say in it!" she yelled, then
moved closer to the man, softly whispering with suspensive anger, "If you think so little of
you own son, who is amazing mind you, then you are not worthy of being Harry's father!"

The man, along with everyone else stayed quiet, even the Waynes that Brooklyn could barely
see from her peripheral view. No one moved or dared to interfere, not even her family.

It was almost like Brook's sudden anger was an oozing warmth between them, because the
man was sweating nervously, perhaps more so at the spectacle they had created rather than
his own guilt.

After swallowing rather strongly, Mr. Osborn looked nervously at the huge crowd gathered
around them, then turned back to Brook, sparing a quick look behind her where Harry was
silently standing with a hand loosely holding onto her shoulder.

The man had the right sense to look afraid, especially as he said to Harry, "I'm sorry son"

When Brooklyn turned, Harry was pale, but shrugged at his father's words as if he didn't
really believe them. Brook then placed her hand reassuringly atop his while the music came
to a stop and the man turned on his heel, hurrying past the crowds and back to his stupid tent.

Still trying to control her rising anger, Brook took a few steading breaths, slow and steady as
she convinced her body not to go after the man. This kind of loss of control hadn't happened
in a long while, in fact, the Stark thought she'd managed to get rid of that burning rage by
now.

She wasn't a murderer anymore...this anger would not control her.

Brooklyn's mind broke free from the thought as she head Harry whisper to her, "You didn't
have to do that"

When she looked up to see his face, she noticed Harry did not seem angry as she'd feared. He
did not seem embarrassed or bothered by the still watchful crowds, there was only a heart-
breaking sadness in his eyes mixed with gratefulness.

Had no one ever stood up to Mr. Osborn on his behalf?

Brook at last cooled down enough to say softly, "You're right, I shouldn't have had to do that
in the first place. Your father should've known by now how great you are, not comparing you
to me or Peter. Nothing of what I said was a lie, and if Mr. Osborn can't see that, then he's
better off as he is right now. Alone"

When Harry rushed to hug her, Brooklyn did not fight the instinct to return the embrace. But
she was rather surprised when the crowds began clapping and hollering in praise and
congratulations for standing up to the man.

As the bell rang across the park, indicating the end of the scavenger hunt, Brooklyn did not
mourn the fate that she had probably lost the game due to her little detour. It was worth it,
especially as Harry's smile returned, her friend was happy once more.

Most of the crowds had scattered back to there tents or at least pretended not to look their
way. Her only wave of regret came when Brook's dad and mom moved to stand before her,
Harley smiling behind them as he clutched onto mom's hand.

Before they could start yelling at her for causing a scene, Brooklyn looked to the ground in
shame and whispered "Please don't be mad at me for snapping at Mr. Osborn. I couldn't help
it.."

Tony laughed, pulling her into a hug as he replied "Of course we're not mad! Today was
about family, and we promised to fight for it whatever it takes right?" Brook nodded
nervously, "You did that today. Friends are family too you know, and you stood up for your
friend with your head held high, speaking from your heart. I couldn't have been prouder"

"Really?" the girl asked, astonished there would be no repercussions for acting so out of line.

"Yeah!" her dad replied confidently while her mom followed suit, then Tony whispered in her
ear, "Plus between you and me, Norman Osborn has always been a complete ass"

That eased some of the fear in Brooklyn's heart. She already felt awful for betraying him by
fraternizing with a Wayne willingly, going behind his back to keep Queen's safe.

At least she'd done him proud with this.

As an icing on the cake, depending on how one looked at it, the Starks hadn't lost the Family
Day competition after all...but they hadn't completely won either.

Turned out that even with the chocolate coins Brooklyn and Tony had found before the
spectacle, it had been enough to tie with the ones the Wayne's had acquired. So, in a moment
of complete discomfort, Brooklyn and her otets were standing on the highest podium at the
awards ceremony just as they had originally planned.

The only bad part was that...well it was a bit crowded with the Waynes standing beside them.

Dad looked like he was contemplating shoving Mr. Wayne off, while Damian's dad seemed
minutes away from blowing a fuse and just leaving.

Brooklyn was annoyed that she hadn't exactly won the competition and bested her nemesis,
but it appeared she'd at least grown complacent of Damian's presence, because as they stood
shoulder to shoulder, holding the lone medal they were meant to 'share', she didn't feel like
throwing him down to the grass at all.

It was such a difference from their first few encounters, when she'd been ready to stab him at
a gala or when Brooklyn had grown so annoyed with his attitude that she actually engaged in
combat with him.

Now...that was lessened somehow.

Shaking off the weird thought, Brooklyn looked to the other winning families on the podiums
below them.

Once upon a time, Ivan had told Brook that there was nothing besides being in first place,
being the best above all others. But the second place Wakandans and the proud Queen duo
who earned the bronze did not seem to think like that at all. They were happy, T'Challa and
Shuri proudly raising their medal to the air with hands clasped while Mr. Oliver Queen and
his daughter Mia beamed at each other, posing for a photo with soft smiles.

Those two she hand really met yet, mostly because they hung out by the Waynes during the
games, that and dad was not really friends with Mr. Queen to begin with.

Then, despite having their parents behind them, Brooklyn leaned over to whisper to her
nemesis when the adults became immersed in a staring contest, "Not bad Wayne" she said, "It
seems we truly are evenly matched after all"

The Wayne scoffed, letting go of the medal as soon as the camera flashing had stopped before
them.

"We'll see who wins next year" he replied coldly and with a typical sneer. Thanks to her
mental catalog of 'Damian's microscopic expressions' , Brooklyn knew he actually wasn't as
annoyed as he let on. He was complacent for once.

She couldn't help but smile at that, if only because the demon was always full of surprises.
Life with him around certainly wasn't the least bit dull. At the sight of her quirked lips,
Damian rolled his eyes her way, but whispered, "Keep the medal. I'd say you earned it after
putting Mr. Osborn in his place, he's always been a retched man"

With that Damian hopped off the podium, with a very confused father following suit as if the
Batman couldn't actually believe Damian walked away without at least half of the medal
they'd earned.

Tony didn't seem to care either way, he just hugged her tight, congratulated her, then knowing
she was not one enjoy mingling with the crowds, suggested they go get some ice cream
instead.

It would be their first time eating the 'Iron-man' frozen treat with Harley, and Brooklyn was
already looking forward to his reaction! Their walk to Pepper and Harley was stopped short
thanks to a very eager Lex Luthor, who moved to stand in their way with son in tow.

She'd completely forgotten about him...

Reminding herself of the pride Tony had expressed in ability to confront someone without
violence, Brooklyn fought he urge to choke the man with his sport's jacket, burying the
thought deep within herself as she smiled at the odd pair.

"Simply exceptional!" the man said, placing a hand on Brook's shoulder, "You must be very
proud of this young woman, Tony! She is certainly like her father! The hero of today for
sure!"

Had she not hated the man before her, Brooklyn might've been flattered by the term 'hero'
directed her way.

Brook's dad smiled as well, but made quick eye contact with Pepper in the crowd to come
and save them.

"Yes, I'm very proud of who she's becoming" Tony admitted, not an trace of a lie in his voice,
"Congratulations on fifth place, that two point shot would've made Legolas proud"

It took a lot for Brooklyn to keep her laughter at bay, only her years of training to keep a
poker face saved her then. Mr. Luthor did not seem deterred by the comment in the least,
admitting his archery skills needed work, but more so his son who had missed every target
during the event.

"Perhaps my son and Brooklyn should meet up one day so she can show him the ropes. You
never know when such a skill may become vital, right?" Mr. Luthor said, green eyes shinning
with confidence as he tried to bring up yet another way for a 'date' to come to be.

Did he have nothing better to do?

Before she could come up with an excuse about just getting lucky and having no clue how to
use a bow and arrow (a lie considering she'd been enhancing her skills with Uncle Clint,
arguably the best of the best), a familiar bored voice came from beside her as he walked by.
"From what I gather in my unfortunate circumstance of being in the same school as Miss
Stark, she doesn't have the social skills to go on something as unnecessary as a date. She's
turned down many fortunate souls, would you like your son to be added to that list, or will
you spare your heir the embarrassment?" said Damian Wayne, slowing his pace to stand
beside Brook, looking both Luthors up and down in disapproval.

Mr. Luthor's smile vanished for once, looking at the Wayne wearily as he stuttered with as
much faked pleasantry as he could, "Always a pleasure to see you Damian! I thought you left
with your family already?"

Damian scoffed, "Unfortunately no. We are waiting for Mr. Queen to finish some causal
conversation to set up a meeting between our companies"

Tony already had a protective arm around Brook's shoulders, pulling her back towards him,
as if being too close to the Wayne might hurt her. Good thing dad didn't know of the kiss
they'd once shared, or the bed they'd reluctantly embraced at...or literally anything from the
past weeks shared with her nemesis.

Damian glared at them all, but mostly young Lex Jr, who looked just about ready to flee,
using the excuse of wanting some refreshments to leave the cold gaze of the demon. Finding
some satisfaction in scaring the teen, Damian must've deemed his temporary pause too long,
because without a farewell, he continued on his way back to the black Wayne tent.

The shock from the intrusion was enough for the two Starks to sneak away from Mr. Luthor,
filled with complaints from Tony about how awful Damian was, something about being a
smaller scarier version of Bruce Wayne.

Brooklyn did not mention that she had most definitely met worse people, if only because her
esteemed rival was just that...a rival.

But that event had completely fled her mind as the Starks invited Harry to ice cream and
pizza, which turned out to be very fun considering everyone was gawking at the famous
public figures casually siting on the curve of the ugliest 7-eleven, causally eating ice cream
and pizza with a limo beside them.

The effort to lift Harry's mood had been successful, and by the time he was dropped off at the
Osborn building when the sky welcomed the night, he seemed the calmest she'd ever seen
him.

Before bed, right as she'd finished talking with Damian about the games of the day for hours,
their wins and losses...she'd received a text from none other than Peter Parker.

It was short for once, not some rambling mess that she'd grown to find adorable.

The text read;

Heard what you did for Harry. He's very happy, and his dad is genuinely working to change
his ways now. Thank you. You're the best.
She tried not to let the 'you're the best' part linger in her brain too long. But she'd fallen asleep
feeling very accomplished, convincing herself the pizza and ice cream in her belly were a
probable cause for her giddy mood instead. Perhaps even the golden medal on her wall had
something to do with it as well, right?
 Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts
Chapter Notes

(Know that I don't encourage partying or drinking! Everyone please drink responsibly!
And please don't drive while drunk!)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Brooklyn POV-

"I can't believe you guys dragged me to this," Brook said, fixing the green striped tie around
her neck, "if my dad finds out I came to a party he will kill me and all of you will be
responsible for planning my premature funeral."

Harry wound his onyx robe-covered arm around her shoulders as they walked up to the door
of the noisy mansion with music so loud the ground shook from the reverberations of it all.
The various colored lights flaring from within the windows were like fireworks, or in the
mind of an ex-assassin, it looked an awful lot like the laser light of guns or riffles. Almost as
if there was an unhinged battle from within.

"A little teenage rebellion is always a good thing!" Harry said, matter of factly, "You're the
one that said you've never celebrated halloween, so if you think about it, this is your first
experience of pivotal experiences of normal 'teenage-hood'. It goes without saying that
rebellion is my specialty, of course"

Brook shot a concerned look towards Peter in hopes for backup where he stood in yellow-
accented robes, looking innocent and equally as weary as she felt. Both of them very much
unlike their group of friends who were buzzing with energy and anticipation for such a
gathering. Even MJ seemed more aware of her surroundings since they'd arrived, an event
worthy of her full attention.

"Flash's parties aren't too bad," Peter mumbled in an attempt to ease her concerns, "Besides,
if you feel really uncomfortable we can always go back home"

Then as Harry's attention was snagged by one of his teammates, Peter leaned in and
whispered in her ear, "Agent Claire won't notice we're here and Aunt May is on a date again.
No one will notice we're out, meaning we most likely won't get in trouble with anyone for
tonight"

That was true at least.

When Peter had come into her apartment with the promise of much needed fun, it was with
the help of Ned that they made it look like Brook was still home by programming a small
robot to walk around the house, fashioned with her coat rack and a long coat to give the
illusion of a humanoid shadow behind her curtained windows hat could pass of as her.
Perhaps they'd gone overboard by ensuring there were a few pre recorded messages on the
home phone in case someone called, a decent back up in case her family decided to check in.

So really, there was no harm in doing this one little rebellious thing no one would ever find
out about.

The fact that Peter Parker had gone to one of these public extravaganzas once before was a
shock in itself, but having him around was a steady comfort nonetheless. Pushing aside her
concerns of getting caught at an unsanctioned school revelry, Brook supposed the festive air
of Halloween as so bad now that she looked at it from a fun perspective. Sure, people in
bloody costumes weren't exactly helping in the valid effort to forget her past, but their
carefree excitement was a contagious charm in itself.

Earlier, Harry had arrived to her apartment complex in his car rather discretely with MJ,
Tanya, and Ned in tow upon her agreement to join. They spared her from showing up without
a costume by bringing matching sets for everyone, claiming they needed group consumes if
they hoped to brave through Flash's grand day mostly undetected. It was a good thing that
Brook had watched the full Harry Potter movie series with Peter a while past, because
otherwise the Stark would've been oblivious to what the set of robes now adoring her body
meant.

Brooklyn had no clue how Tanya had gotten authentic looking Hogwarts robes for everyone
in such a short amount of time, much less how she'd nailed everyone's sizes to perfection, but
as they all walked towards the front door of Flash's giant house together, it looked like they
had planned these costumes for weeks.

Aside from the skirts, pants, accessories, and shirts looking genuine, the robes were
thankfully warm enough to chase away the cold kiss of the night. Tanya had also gone
through the trouble of planning 'appropriate' house sorting into one of the four houses in the
enchanted tale that none of them could argue with.

MJ and Ned obviously became the Ravenclaws of the group, sporting soft blue on their ties
and the inner lining of their robes. Tanya was kept company as a Hufflepuff with Peter, both
brandishing yellow ties that were almost gold in the artificial light of the occasional lamppost
nearby. To no one's surprise, Harry was a proud Gryffindor clad in bright red, and Brooklyn
as the only Slytherin of them all with green robes of her own.

Though she'd been led astray as to the meaning in the movies, Peter the know-it-all had once
explained the true meaning of such a name was not meant to signify evil. Though the dark
connotation would've indeed been fitting due to her past, Peter and Tanya stressed during the
ride over that Slytherins were known to be cunning, achievement-oriented, and with highly
developed senses of self-preservation. That was basically Brooklyn any given day, thus she
had not argued with Tanya the Sorting Hat, even if her friend had gone a bit overboard.

She even got them all custom wands. That particular fact hadn't earned any arguments from
Brook since she'd left all her weapons behind except fo the trusty Stark watch on her wrist,
now safely run by her A.I. GIL who wouldn't tell dad of the unsanctioned outing. The wand
was a decent weapon all things considered, blending in with her costume but deadly in her
particular hands.

How Brooklyn had ended up managing to dress in the back of Harry's borrowed SUV was
still a mystery, especially with Peter back there as well, but now even her hair had been
fashioned loosely down her back into place by MJ, looking as if she'd spent hours getting
ready to make an impression. They all did.

As they walked into the threshold of the packed home, those standing by got one look at them
and parted so that they made it through mostly unbothered. They stared intently, something
the Stark knew had nothing to do with her arranged hair but the fact the odd group of mixed
popularity had actually made it to the social event of the year. Nevertheless, none of them
deigned to acknowledge the surprise, not when they were there to have fun instead of making
a useless public statement.

Brooklyn, who had only ever been to a club once —for a dangerous mission nonetheless—
was suddenly assaulted by the unfamiliar intensity of the loud music, the pungent smell of
alcohol, and the never ending sight of familiar and unfamiliar swaying bodies of students as
far as the eye could see.Brook couldn't help but wonder why teens longed to go to adult night
clubs like the one she'd snuck into when this was basically the same thing. More importantly,
she wondered why her friends had wished to attend in the first place, especially since most of
them were not very comfortable around others.

Harry, who seemed to take the sight in with familiarity, stretched out his arms as if
showcasing the chaos to Brook like a proud regent of a vast kingdom.

"This, my dearest friend, is a party. Not like the stuck up gatherings your dad always
deprived you of, but a true beacon of fun you never dared to sneak into!" Harry said. Well,
more like shouted at her face due to the booming music that was making the ground quake
with grater intensity than outside.

It was honestly a miracle no neighbor had filed a noise complaint yet.

Clutching the loose sleeves of her robes, Brooklyn made a conscious effort to remain by
Peter's side as she took in the sight wearily. She couldn't see any of the entrances or exits with
how packed the place was, her senses were trying to register too many things at once to make
proper assessments of nearing dangers for which she hoped her friend's senses could
compensate for her current metaphorical blindness. To Brook's mortification, the few things
she could make sense of were rather foul. There were people making out all over the place,
doing what they must've considered dancing but Brook was certain had to be some sort of
gluing of swaying bodies. The only reprieve from the masses was at the sidelines of the main
living room where various tables had been set up for what looked to be card games.

Despite everyone being dressed in honor of Halloween, some with masks and full-bodied
costumes, bothering to try and recognize distant classmates was quickly thwarted by the fact
that Brooklyn spotted quite a few familiar ensembles. Infinitely amused, Brooklyn actually
grinned at the sight of the many dressed as varying Avengers, even some as members of the
famed Justice League.
Brook even spotted someone wearing a familiar Robin suit that almost had her doubling over
with laughter were it not for how packed the room was.

The deeper in her group ventured, the more she noticed almost everyone clutched a plastic
red cup in hand, seemingly already wasted by its contents. A room full of civilians who'd
probably forgo their better judgement at some point and use the liquid courage to walk up to
'the Stark Heiress'. The thought was unsavory enough that the sudden urge to leave was
growing more and more attractive by the second.

As Brooklyn was about to suggest going to the arcade instead lingering at this party, it was
Ned that pulled her and Peter off to the side with the promise of drinks for everyone. Caught
in Ned's arm, Brooklyn walked between the elated teenagers as her friend shouted, "We're
being serious, Brook! You deserve to let loose for once! You've been working very hard
lately, so maybe it's time you just act like a normal teen for once, just see what its like"

His words were compelling.

Though Brook would never complain about her current identity and heavy purpose, life was
starting to get a bit stressful, especially because she wasn't allowed to help with the Joker
fiasco when something big was clearly going on. Sure, her dad would disapprove of Brook
being at a party, but something told her he'd attended his fare share of them in his youth.

What was one party anyways? Tomorrow was Friday, an easy day at school, so maybe she
could just let go for tonight. It was unlikely Flash would invite her to another party once she
and Damian made him loose all that money during the play after all, meaning this would be
her first and last glimpse as to what kind of 'normality' she was supposed to simulate to keep
her identity safe. Especially because she was the daughter of a Stark.

Peter seemed to sense the shift in her attitude before she even agreed to stay, because he
suddenly became very weary. As Ned began serving the alcoholic drinks, Peter clutched onto
her shoulders and said, "If this isn't comfortable for you, I can swing you back home. You
don't have to party like this to have a good time"

Staring at his kind doe-like eyes, Brooklyn placed a reassuring hand atop his.

"I've just never been to a party before, so I'm getting the feel of it" Brooklyn shouted back,
"But you're all right in the sense that I could use some fun, a distraction of this magnitude at
least"

With that, Brook gladly accepted the red cup from Ned and downed it in one gulp. Both boys
stood motionless before her, eyes wide as saucers, especially once she moved to refill her cup
of cheap and rather bitter beer. Smiling at their confusion and growing concern, Brooklyn
waved off the unnecessary shock with her free hand.

"It takes a lot to get me drunk, don't worry about that of all things," she assured her friends,
only for Peter to frown once he realized he'd have to take a bunch of drunk teens home since
he'd offered to be the designated driver who'd remain alcohol free tonight.
With that out of the way, the three rejoined their group, which had found an empty couch to
claim as their own in Flash's giant foyer. They all instantly brightened once they noticed
Brooklyn was finally at ease, especially Harry, who after a few gulps of his drink invited
Brook to the dance floor.

"No more of those boring dances from galas and events with perfect step sequences that bore
everyone to tears!" Harry shouted with a huge smile across his handsome face as he pulled
her up form the couch, "Tonight we dace like normal people! Sway to the sounds of
freedom!"

So for the sake of fun, Brook had joined him, both teens somehow ending up amidst the large
cluster of students by the DJ area, swaying their bodies with alcohol in hand. Though Brook
remained by Harry's side despite the grabby hands of other teens, she was still able to spot as
Tanya hauled MJ to dance as well, even when that consisted mostly of Tanya spinning the
Ravenclaw most of the time.

They too were rosy cheeked like Harry by now. It almost made her laugh how low a tolerance
of alcohol her best friends possessed. It made her think of that time she and Damian had
talked about the merits of developing immunity against alcohol, merits which any teenager
here no doubt went through life without pondering.

Though it was impossible, it was as almost as if the brief and fleeting thought of her nemesis
ended up summoning him that tonight. Mid spin after her quick thought of the Wayne,
Brooklyn's revelry halted entirely as she spotted familiar and unmistakable emerald orbs all
the away across the room. The first thought that filled her mind wasn't the impossibility of
the sight before her, but rather the question as to why Damian Wayne was suddenly
everywhere she ventured to as of recently.

It was as if the mere fact that their parents wanted them as far apart as possible only made the
two teens cross paths all the more, like magnets of opposite charges drawn to one another.

By the large open doors, Damian stepped inside the stuffy room with Jon as the drunken
crowds nearby parted quickly for the pair even while under the haze of alcohol. Still
clutching to one of Harry's arms and her cup with the other, Brooklyn made sure to bite back
on her amusement as she beheld the pair scanning the crowd, one in excitement, the other
with disgust.

Though Damian was in his familiar ensemble of black pressed-pants and a matching turtle
neck far too sophisticated for this kind of party, Jon had decided to be a little mischievous
with his costume. With no regards to being subtle, Kent was swearing a faded blue t-shirt,
dark jeans, and what looked to be a poorly ripped red drape from someone's kitchen table.

When the Kryptonian caught Brook's eye amongst the masses, he waved enthusiastically in
her general direction, swiftly turning in place so she could see the sharpie drawn S on the
cloth.

He'd dressed up as Superman, as his father's very secret identity.

As Brook snuck a glance towards the Wayne beside him, her nemesis shot her a look as if to
say he was not very amused by the inside joke either. Still, the pair quickly began weaving
their way over to her, even when they were the last people on earth Brooklyn would expected
to accept Flash's invitation and to seek her company amidst it.

It appeared Brook and Peter weren't the only ones feeling a little rebellious tonight after all,
content on testing the limits of their stay-at-home punishments.

Despite the pounding of the music, Brooklyn was still able to hear snippets Damian's
complaints about their attendance as Jon dragged him along without a care in the world.
Eventually, the crowding parts caught the attention of those around her as the pair neared,
amongst them Harry. He paused his dancing, groaning from his place beside her at the sight
of the Wayne, but still managed to greeted the two with vigor when they made it to their little
section of the dance floor.

"Oh, look who it is! My co-captain is here to have a good time!" Harry said, already swaying
slightly as he offered Jon his cup. The tall kryptonian looked at the contents with slight
amusement shinning in his blue orbs, but accepted the offering nonetheless.

Deciding to forego the stupid question of asking Damian why he of all people was in
attendance considering she was there as well, Brook leaned close enough to whisper to the
Wayne without touching him, "Can he even get drunk?"

She knew Peter would not be able to due to the high metabolism from by his abilities, but Jon
was still mastering his own limits and strengths, trying to get his more human traits to
dissipate as he let the kryptonian cells take over. In some ways, his indestructibly was still
very much in question.

Damian eyed the cup in her hand, eyes slowly traveling up the slithering robes on her body
until he reached her face. There was no sign of clear disgust or judgement on his face, not
even in his voice as he deigned to reply loud enough to hear above the excessive noise of
those around them, "We've never tested it out"

Just as soon as the words left his mouth, they could only stand and watch as Jon downed the
remainder of the contents of the cup, nose scrunching at the tase as he and Harry patted each
other's backs with a laugh.

Her brown-haired friend suddenly seemed to recall Damian was also in attendance, because
Harry shuffled a little bit closer to shout, "By all that is holy, the great and mighty Damian
Wayne is at a party like this? One without expensive china and dull orchestras...I truly have
seen it all. What is your consume supposed to be anyway?"

Damian shot him a disapproving look, but managed to reply with his usual tone of superiority
and impatience, "I'm not wearing one, obviously. This holiday is ridiculous, just a trick for
consumerism to take hold at the expense of children's dentistry bills"

Harry already seemed far too wasted to process what that meant, because as he leaned on Jon
for support, he scrunched his eyes before saying, "With that black outfit, the turtle neck...you
could be the dancing pumpkin man from the halloween CW commercials"
Having witnessed said commercial while watching halloween movies with Peter this week,
Brooklyn had to fight the fit of undignified chuckles threatening to rise as those around her
continued to sway to the music. On the other hand, Jon had to hold on to Harry just to stay
upright once his own amusement took over.

Damian had been considerably less snarky with Harry since the fiasco at Family Day, but she
could tell his patience was running very low. Especially after that particular comment.

Before one of the teens suffered a most painful death, Brooklyn gently held onto Damian's
elbow and began pulling him away from the dance floor and towards the kitchen area that
had the mountain loads of drinks and food, but also the least number of individuals present.
Thankfully Jon seemed to realize his friend needed some distance because he winked at
Brook and promised to stay and care for Harry, both already swaying to the beat of the music
and rapidly disappearing from Brook's line of sight the further into the house she went.

By some miracle, Damian didn't remove her hand from his arm as they wormed their way
past wide-eyed students at the sight of a Wayne in their midsts, even some far too drunk that
decided to briefly stop in their path to offer Brooklyn a good time. Thought she'd assumed
Damian would be the last person to bother to help, the demon didn't even hesitate as he
swiftly shoved those individuals aside with disgust.

When they finally made it to the cool marble counter, the kitchen truly seemed like a safe
haven away from all that chaos. Only a few people had decided to take solace there, aside
from the occasional passing teens that came in quickly for a drink or two. Damian seemed to
appreciate the privacy as he dusted off the feeling of people's bodies against his clothes.

"Let me guess," Brook said as she casually leaned against the table in the middle of the room,
"Jon dragged you along since his football buddies invited him. Like me, you remain here just
to spite your father because of the punishment they gave us, right?"

Damian halted his movements, looking down at her in a more relaxed manner than earlier as
he elegantly settled down on a nearby kitchen stool.

The one next to her, in fact.

"I shouldn't be surprised you and I think alike when it comes to these things. My family won't
be home tonight, so I found little consequence in coming with Jon" he replied, "But why are
you drinking and dancing then? You don't need to do that to spite your father"

Brooklyn eyed the cup somehow still in her hand after all that weaving around the masses,
which she noted was almost running out of liquor again.

"I just want to relax today. Do something any normal teenager without a thousand
responsibilities would do. I already missed out on doing normal things my friends took part
in as kids, like going trick or treating on days like these," Brook said, unable to fight the
softness in her voice as she added, "Its not so much about the drinking and rebellion, its about
fooling myself into thinking I can do normal things despite the villain schemes that keep me
from living like everyone else here"
Damian didn't laugh at her surpassingly sentimental logic, nor did he stop her as she refilled
her cup from one of the metal barrels behind her. Instead, much to her astonishment, Damian
slowly grabbed a hold of an empty cup and filled half way before turning to face her.
Standing this close to one another, steps away from being chest to chest like that day at the
mall, Brooklyn couldn't help but feel as if Damian was all there was in the room, in the whole
damned mansion as a matter of fact.

"Then I propose a toast to ridiculous teenage years full of stupid decisions and illogical
practices," he said, mockingly raising his cup for her own to click against. With a small
chuckle, she did end up letting the flimsy plastic of their cups meet. Then two ex-assassins of
opposing guilds, the children of enemy families, took a liberating sip of normality that sealed
their forbidden toast.

Normality wasn't very tasty, and it was cheap.

Beside her, Damian was staring out into the dancing crowds past the kitchen window as he
gagged at the awful taste. Brooklyn couldn't help but smile at the surprisingly human sight,
especially as he took a few more sips afterwards like he had something to prove. Brook easily
downed her cup while looking out into the fray where Harry and Tanya were already far too
drunk, for once not arguing as they danced with Jon and the rest of the football players.

Peter, who'd refused to drink, was sitting beside MJ back at the couches on the raised
platform of the living room as they discussed a raised book between them that the curly-
haired girl had undoubtedly snuck into her robes. Joining the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw was
Ned, who clutched a video game remote with one hand, a fedora which he'd claimed on the
ride over gave him confidence with the other, easily sparking conversation with the group of
gamers down on the lower platform below him.

At least her friends knew how to have a good time.

Eventually, as she and Damian sat beside one another in the now comfortable silence of the
kitchen, Brook began to notice most of the Decathlon team was in attendance as well, with
Betty and Cindy having an intense volleyball competition out in the back yard seen beyond
the grand glass sliding doors to her left that would no doubt be the subject of casual talk
during Monday's practice. With each passing second, more and more people arrived, some
known while others remained a mystery behind their costumes, but people had yet to notice
the unlikely pair hiding out from their chaos.

In all her starring around, Brook had almost missed the way Damian had somehow relaxed
enough that began clutching the table for support.

She really should've kept track of how much the demon had been drinking...what was that,
his third cup?

Brook had never truly expected to see what drunk Damian Wayne looked like in her lifetime.
She knew he was not one for putting himself in scenarios where he could be at a
disadvantage, but right now, with his lidded eyes and slightly colored cheeks...she couldn't
help but chuckle lightly at the sight.
Damian was still serious as ever, maintaining that perfect mask of indifference even when his
green eyes seemed to darken by the intake of an unfamiliar substance. Brook should've
advised him to go slow during this first few drinks (not that she had ever been given that
advice in her youth), but of of course she'd been too distracted to notice he'd likely been
trying to match her expert pace. Granted, the massive home was growing hotter by the
second with each new addition to the party, and the coolness of the beer was an addicting
refreshment from it all.

"How are you feeling, tough guy?" Brook asked as she made way to stand before his chair,
holding out three fingers which he mumbled being double their actually amount.

In the minutes that followed, Brook realized that a drunk Damian would not equate to a
happier and more care-free version of him like the students at the party, but rather one that
shoot death stares at any guy who passed by as they wove around the masses, one who
refused to show the induced weaknesses of the alcohol in his system by suggesting he and
Brook go do something instead of sitting around all night.

Though she had yet to feel the pull of alcohol, Brook didn't need it to recall she was hell bent
on having a good time today. That was her reason for staying at the party to begin with. So
despite being in the company of an intoxicated Wayne, who she scarily found less and less
annoying each passing day, the Stark agreed to Damian's request.

If she was being honest, the next few hours were kind of a blur. Not because of the alcohol,
but because she was so lost in the fun of it all to bother keeping track of the time.

Both her and Damian slowly let down their guard as the hours passed, choosing instead to
forget it all as they had the time of their lives. It all started with a game of something called
Light Saber on the main lounging area before a huge TV screen that took up most of the wall.
Despite neither of them knowing any of the songs or having played such a mundane game
before, Damian's expertise with a katana earned him a win for the first game.

A few rounds later— with only one win to her name against the intoxicated Wayne— they
had pulled quite the crowd to spectate on their game. The masses and cheering weren't to a
certain demon's liking, which is why Damian decided to ditch that activity and drag her to the
tables upstairs where teens had set up a few card games with more privacy than those
downstairs.

Turned out, thats where the good liquor was. No longer was Brook drinking cheep beer in a
red cup, as soon as they settled on a game table side by side, both her and Damian were
served in glasses full of the good stuff from the stash belonging to Flash's parents. Brooklyn
only knew Vodka by name and taste, but whatever they'd been served was earthy and
addictive, something even she shouldn't have indulged too many sips of.

Just imagining what trouble she would get into once all that alcohol was gone almost made it
all the tastier.

Harry had actually shown up for a while then, amused to see both her and the Wayne
drinking and having won most of the currency at the betting table, which was unfortunately
in the form of packaged condoms rather than money.
Harry had barely been of the right mind to identify her in his drunken state, much less to
register she was willingly spending time with her nemesis much like everyone else in the
room. A small blessing for she wouldn't have had the patience or logic to explain her
company. Between slurred words, Harry had said the two looked like dangerous mafia
leaders holding court, which Brooklyn had actually laughed at. Weaving to and from behind
every booth, Harry had even managed to steal her wand at some point, then her phone to
sneak in some photos of the unusual chaos around them.

Photos she'd have to remember to delete later.

Only every time Harry got close to whisper into her ear or to try and steal something in her
possession, Brooklyn could've sworn she felt Damian sliding closer to her in the red leather
booth. They never touched, but from that close a distance, Damian's icy glare had startled
Harry back a few times, especially when one of his arms stretched out behind her atop the
booth...as the guys did with their girlfriends' in booths around them. Only for Damian, she
suspected the action was to smack Harry or something equally as violent.

Just when it looked like Damian might actually pounce to attack Harry, her friend had
mercifully left thanks to Nancy Bells' offer of a good time.

After a few more card games where their classmates finally realized it would be impossible to
beat hers and Damian's poker faces and immaculate strategy, the two had found the game
boring enough to go back downstairs, leaving their crude currency to a lucky student in the
midst of loosing all he had.

Peter had actually ended up finding her as she and Damian wove through the thick crowds
near the dance floor, stopping before her and not yet noticing the demon in tow.

"Brook, I've been looking for you! I wen to go talk to Tanya and she said you just
disappeared, I figured you'd gone home or something" Peter said, eyes worriedly scanning
her form until someone slapped his hand away from Brook's shoulder behind her.

Flash's parents sure had done a number on her. She was finally starting to feel the dregs of
soothing calm, teetering on the edge of actually becoming drunk enough that had Damian not
intervened, she might've done something stupid like asked Peter to dance, playing on her
little crush and inevitably hurting MJ in the process.

Suddenly the demon behind her, the sentinel whose own oozing warmth wasn't stifling like
that of the crowds around them, suddenly became a steading anchor of reason for once.

Remembering drunk Damian Wayne seemingly had a thing against teenage boys, Brooklyn
took a step back from Peter for his safety. Then she took another step, closer to that
comforting presence so she could hold Damian back if he decided to attack. Turning around
to place her hands against his sturdy chest to prevent him from taking that step forward,
Brook tried not to laugh at the tired eyes and deepening blush on Damian's soft and flawless
caramel skin that only seemed to bring out his freckles more.

Damian had already lazily picked a fight with five guys upstairs, all of which had been
flipped onto their backs or thrown back with a straight someone their age shouldn't posses.
Not wanting her friend to suffer the fate she could see simmering in Damian's cold emerald
eyes, Brooklyn clutched onto his fisted hands as she turned back to Peter with a sheepish
grin, "I'm doing just fine, nothing for you to worry about. But where is everyone?"

Peter finally looked up at the Wayne with a mix of both confusion and fear that had her friend
taking a step back. Though Brooklyn hadn't thought it to be a potent scent, one whiff from
Peter and suddenly her friend was whispering something about alcohol that had the fear in his
doe-eyes growing.

Now very much intimidated, Peter being to stammer over the sound of the loud beats, "The
others are dancing...mostly. Um, MJ and I are with Ned by the gaming set up. Wanna...do you
wanna join me?"

Something about what Peter had said had Damian scoffing. Moving to stand between her and
Peter, Damian muttered in a voice just loud enough to not be yelling, but strong enough to be
heard over the shouts of the people jumping wildly around them, "Go back to your little
games, Parker. Can't you see Brooklyn and I are busy?"

Brooklyn? Not Stark, or nemesis. It hit Brook all at once that she wasn't sure if Damian had
never called her Brooklyn before...had he?

Not that she had time to question it further seeing as the Wayne wasted no time dragging
Brook out of the fray, away from Peter's frozen body and raised a brow at their retreating
forms. The Stark was barely able to to shoot her best friend what she hoped appeared as a
casual shrug before he disappeared behind the dancing bodies moving into the cleared path
they'd vacated.

Claiming he could take more drinks with no problem, Damian had led them to a table area
hosting a clever little game called Beer Pong. She'd barely noticed their arrival at the front of
the fray, not when he remind was still reeling about the sound of her first name coming out of
Damian's mouth and the feel of where his hand had been atop the fabric of her wrist.

Brooklyn was just staring to feel a slight tingle in her fingers from of the alcohol before the
game began, but was otherwise still largely unbothered by her minimal intake thanks to of the
many frozen nights spent with Russian alcohol as her only friend.

Unfortunately, she'd soon find out that the so called Beer Pong was a game designed so that
even when you won, you lost.

Though she didn't pay much mind to the dozens surrounding the dimly lit table, she would
occasionally catch sight of their shock at seeing the two richest kids in the country at play,
much more so when she and Damian agreed to be teammates against two of Flash's
cumbersome friends. They were the ones that called Flash over, who finally greeted them to
the party like they were old friends.

Flash was clearly drunk over his limit, and funnily enough dressed in a Spider-man in a
costume that looked incredibly expensive, but not identical to the real one Brook had seen up
close. She had a feeling those calling Flash handsome in the crowds were doing so merely
because he was their host. When Flash had moved close to whisper his praise of her own
looks (which she finally noticed those around them had been echoing for some time), and
then asked if Brook if she thought him handsome in return, she hadn't even had to think about
her response.

Baby-faced Flash wasn’t her type, cowardice and all.

Brooklyn had been unfortunate enough to learn that in the face of a celebrity like her, pouring
honey into her ear seemed to be the general consensus of someone was supposed to act. Flash
indulged those bothersome games...yet Damian wasn’t like that at all.

He wielded bitter lime, vinegar, things that were supposed to make a person turn and run as
far as they could while cursing his name. Maybe Brook had become insane, maybe it was the
alcohol, but she found she preferred his way of acting around her than the way others did. His
cruelty stemmed off honesty, he spoke his mind to her without caring if something would
sting, and after being lied to all her life in the Red Room, currently surrounded by teens and
adults seeking her wealth, it was a rare privilege to be granted every ugly thought to her face.
Damian never pretended to be anything different than who he was when he was around her…
he didn’t hide his hatred behind a mask, and thus she didn’t have to either. It was an odd
environment that encouraged honesty between them, let it thrive.

She never expected the sweetness of honeyed words from him as Flash had just so easily
given, and perhaps she preferred things that way.

As far as Flash's more specific inquiry about physical looks, Brooklyn truly had to be
teetering on the edge of being drunk if her mind couldn't help comparing Flash to Damian.
Glancing beside her at a seething Damian, Brook was once again reminded that a plethora of
good attributes were wasted on him. Strong jaw, striking emerald eyes, full brows... Damian
Wayne really had been carved like a Grecian statue. It was still ridiculous, not to mention
maddening to consider the demon as the standard, the guy to beat for the best looks.

Damian was still a selfish bastard, of that there was no doubt. Brooklyn rationalized it was
only human and not at all damming to consider even an enemy as handsome, hatred didn't
take things like that away after all.

"If you don't want a blow to your ego, I'd suggest you retract your question" she told Flash,
keeping her expression from giving away the rest of her statement. The fact that there was
someone she did indeed find handsome in the room that she couldn't and shouldn't name.
Especially when the answer should've been reserved as Peter's name and no one else.

Speaking of which, while glancing away from Flash's reddening face at the comment,
Brooklyn actually caught Peter's wide eyed stare from across the room when he beheld the
peculiar costume of the guy who made his life miserable. It was ironic really, but not enough
to distract her competitive spirit in winning the stupid game, or the fact that she couldn't
honestly say she found Peter Parker more alluring than the demon currently shoving Flash
back into the crowds rather impatiently and harshly.

As with everything lately, the two worked as a team even in something as mundane as a party
game. Damian and Brooklyn were quickly labeled as flawless and unbeatable in the craft of
landing ping pong balls onto the opposite team's red cups. Even while tipsy, her nemesis was
still able to land each shot into the enemy targets with a serious face and a simple flick of his
wrist.

The pair ended up only having to drink three shots while their competitors had been forced to
intake six each.

The high from their win was enough to send both ex-assassins into enough spirits to drink
some more of the cheap stuff as the music around them got louder while someone fired a few
confetti cannons into the room. Brooklyn had been far too lost in her euphoria, the feeling of
complete ease and calm, to question herself as she dragged Damian to the dance floor,
draping her green Slytherin tie around his neck while they swayed to the music like that day
back at the club.

He must've been drunk enough to not register who he was dancing with, or the fact that he
was dancing at all, because Damian didn't pull away once.

Both teens were under a rain of colorful confetti and garlands as she held on to Damian's
neck so she wouldn't loose him amongst the bumping and jumping of the tightly packed
students around them. He'd must've been tired enough to comply and place his own hands on
her back, that sudden intensity of his eyes returning as he pulled her close, not to attack, but
to keep dancing. Despite the layers, he idly traced the scar lines on her back that he as an
enemy shouldn't have been able to identify so easily.

It was as if he'd memorized where they were.

So unlike those around them who were acting like hormonal beasts in heat, Brook and
Damian seemed to come to the mental understanding to just sway in place to the unfamiliar
pop song, using it as a means to relax after all the shenanigans they had just gotten into. It
was calming, relaxing enough that despite the dozens of students around them (all of which
were far to drunk to process or even remember the odd sight they beheld later) Brooklyn
moved forward to rest her head against Damian's chest, listening to the sound of his heart and
the beat of the music.

Flash HAD come by to try once again get Brooklyn to spare him a dance despite her earlier
act of humiliation. Though Damian didn't push the teen away that time, almost as if refusing
to lift a hand from her body, he'd shot Flash a glare that was deadlier than those she'd seen her
nemesis dish out tonight. Not to mention he then proceeded to threatening to gouge his eyes
with Brook's wand until someone else had mercifully pulled Flash into a dance.

What was with Damian and being a threatening drunk to teenage boys?

Looking up into those intense eyes for answers, Brooklyn found nothing but his full attention
on her. Even when the occasional darkness engulfed the room for effect, their eyes remained
locked onto one another, enough so that she wondered if there as something he found
puzzling about her.

Though that had been an oddly enjoyable experience, eventually the heat from the dance
floor became uncomfortable, enough so that Brooklyn ushered them back upstairs to a room
she'd spotted before, one with an open balcony promising refreshing air. The trip upstairs was
a bit hazy, but Brook knew she'd held on to Damian's hand the whole time to make sure he
wouldn't trip up the stairs, a hold Damian hadn't shrugged off. To say Brook almost sagged
against the railing from the sheer relief of breathing clean air would be an understatement,
even Damian looked somewhat relieved as they stared down at the backyard full of people
lounging by the pool or dancing around its perimeter.

Further down was a rolling hill that looked down at the city of Queens, and from their high
view point, the sight of a million blinking lights looked breathtaking under the moonlight.

"Did you have a good time tonight or do you regret coming at all?" Brooklyn asked, not
really expecting an answer but being tipsy enough to be curious to ask.

Damian, who's hair was resting wildly in a way that almost made him look more handsome
than usual (something she would've likely never though sober) looked down towards her with
a small yet visible half-smile.

"This is all ridiculous, but not boring"

Not boring. Good.

"Are you having a pleasant time without that lot of yours? Or would you rather go spend your
last fleeting hours of normal teenage-hood with Parker? Maybe Osborn?"

Brook considered the question, unaware of the grinding of his teeth towards the end of the
question.

"I love speeding time with them, but I gotta say, it was nice to spend this party with someone
who's never been to one before. Someone who understands the peculiar situation of my past
and was willing to take the shot at doing something beyond our experience" Brooklyn
confessed, pushing back loose strands of her auburn hair to keep them from sticking to her
forehead, as well as wiping off little circles confetti from her robes.

Sneaking a glance at the nemesis beside her, she noted he was no longer the boy dressed in
all black that had come in. He had bits of colored confetti dots all over his carefully pressed
clothes, her green tie still sloppily around his neck. He looked so unlike himself, at last
looking tired out by the alcohol that she began wiping off the confetti off his body too.

This time though, he actually clutched her hands to stop their movement. She'd been so
careless with her touches tonight that she figured he'd reached some limit with his distaste,
Brooklyn made to pull back to continue fixing her appearance, but her hands were gently
held in place atop his chest.

"You don't hate the fact that you had to spend all night with me?" Damian asked, looking
down at her with such intensity as if this was a very important question the drunk Wayne
absolutely needed answered.

Of course she hadn't hated it, Brooklyn actually had a great time (she'd yet to figure out if
that was a bad thing or not). But she could understand why he asked, in the first place. They
were enemies, and enemies weren't supposed to enjoy each other's company. Yet they had
both been through so much together already, knew one another better than anyone else, or so
she wagered.

Sure, he was insufferable sometimes, but Brook had slowly come to realize during their
missions, or rehearsals, even just talking long into the night....she realized that deep down,
Damian Wayne was a kind person, or at least someone who was so similar to her that she felt
completely at ease with him, even at a stupid party full of strangers. Even now with his larger
hands encompassing her own.

"I didn't hate it, drunk Damian sure knows how to have a good time," she replied, "I actually
never seem to mind being around you lately, even when you are still my esteemed rival"

The unwilling confession had her pulse stuttering, waiting for him to call her an idiot for
even admitting to not hating his company.

Yet Damian, for the first time EVER, seemed to...he seemed to want to truly smile, not those
half attempts that looked more like teasing rather than joy. The corners of his mouth were
slowly pulling up, and Brooklyn could only watch in amazement as a smile began to
form...before he quickly turned around and threw up in the potted plant behind them.

That was her cue to definitely have him taken home, but as she held back the wisps of his
hair from his face and the tie still around his neck, Damian decided to be difficult, being
adamant about refusing to let Jon see him like this amidst heaves. Therefore, in a moment of
stupidity as she patted the Wayne's back in comfort as he expelled the alcohol in his system,
she softly offered to take him home instead.

Just not his home, like hell she was taking the subway at...der'mo, it was already midnight.
Shit.

Brook's home was thankfully not too far away from the party, thats where they would have to
go. She tried to reason that Damian had already been there once, the novelty of his presence
there should be gone. It wouldn't be weird, especially with Jon there. With a sigh, Brook
handed over some tissues from whoever's bathroom the bedroom belonged to, helping the
Wayne get rid of the evidence of his sickness before ushering him downstairs.

He'd insisted not to be supported on his way down, lest someone saw he needed help to do
something as simple as walking. Instead, they managed to come up with a compromise of
Damian leaning his hand on her back as they walked. Though Brook wanted to argue that no
one would remember the happenings of tonight, he was still very careful about his image
being destroyed, though that might've already happened during the card game where she got
him to chuckle a few times during a few of their wins. But that was hazy too, it might've been
a dream to be honest.

Deciding to be responsible, Brooklyn left Damian at the front of the house where he could
bask in the fresh air, making sure he was sitting atop the steps without risk of tumbling over
before imploring him to stay put as she went back into the fray of warm bodies and deafening
music to find Jon.
Thankfully she located him in the backyard playing basketball with a group of friends, not
looking tipsy in the least but as happy as the Kryptonian often was after a mission gone right.
Realizing it would be a shame to ruin her teammate's night of fun which he too had earned,
Brooklyn decided to take care of things on her own. Pulling him aside from the game with a
summoning wave that had him running to her despite the ridiculous and misplaced whistling
noises from his mates, Brook took a deep breath and sealed her fate.

"Your friend had a little too much to drink, so I'm taking Damian back to my house so he can
rest," she said simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world, "Are you ok to fly home
or should I prepare a sleeping area for you too?"

Please say you'll come by too, even if I hate having strangers in my home, it would be better
than knowing I'm letting a Wayne stay in my home with just the two of us there, she couldn't
help but think.

Jon shook off his confusion, foot still tapping to the beat of the music as he replied kindly,
"Thats very kind of you, but I'm good to fly home later. You two should take the car though, I
imagine like most of our classmates walking is becoming a little difficult"

The car? Of course those two had driven here, it would be a cold day in hell when Damian
Wayne was seen using the public transport unless it was absolutely necessary. Being
grounded, Brook wasn't sure the pair would dare ask Alfred for a lift, especially now. She
supposed it was about time she became acquainted with whatever luxury car Damian Wayne
had earned with those artistic talents of his. Maybe it would help her muddled mind to see
him surrounded by the luxury and arrogance befitting someone of his status.

Though Brooklyn ended up looking for her friends on the way out, she hadn't managed to
spot a single one of them until she was almost at the main entrance, where MJ was lounging
on a couch with her book propped up to block out the crowds beyond the pages, using half of
her wizard robes to hide the sight of the couple making out beside her.

It was to Michelle that Brook turned to, almost glad she didn't have explain to Harry or even
Peter that she was taking a drunk Damian home. MJ was the most relaxed of the group by far
when it came to the concept of enemies and allies. She sometimes had an attitude that made it
seem like she didn't care about most things, but Brook knew the girl was very observant and
oftentimes viewed things from a different perspective.

Would MJ store the small bit of information of her strange departure for later? Yes. But
would she bring it up unless absolutely necessary? No.

So with summoned confidence, Brooklyn sauntered over to her fellow wizard and shouted
over the sound of the music, "Hey, MJ! I think I'm heading back home, could you please just
let the rest of the group know in case they worry"

MJ looked up from her book, nodding once before replying, "Everyone is busy at the D&D
game in the basement, but should they ask, I can let them know. Do you need a ride?"

Brook didn't mention she would be leaving with Damian, but she DID insist that she'd be fine
walking home. MJ still made Brook do a few silly tests to make sure she wasn't sending a
friend out into the dark streets drunk and defenseless. She appreciated the though, but set off
back outside with a huff of laughter the music carried away from her at the thought of her
being defenseless in any state. Brooklyn only to let out a sigh of relief when she saw Damian
had, in fact, not moved from the spot she left him at.

Seated at the front steps, out of sight from anyone passing by.

It was almost comical seeing someone like Damian Wayne sitting there amidst the greenery
and pavement dust, disheveled and swaying. If he hadn't saved her sorry ass on more than
one occasion, Brooklyn might've made a point to make fun of him later.

But right now she had a very pressing matter at hand, gathering her enemy from the floor,
convincing him to push pride aside and lean his body weight on her, then finding the
unknown luxury car in the darkness with a mumbling Damian by her side.

Of course, to make matters worse, Flash just had to have a giant parking space next to his
house.

The walk would've been relatively easier had it not been for some low class nobody that had
actually tried to rob what the man must've thought to be two defenseless teens. The poor fool
had no idea they were both forged from darkness, deadly in their own ways, even more so
together.

They were the lions, the thief nothing more than a simple sheep.

One second, Brook was holding Damian upright as they were threatened with a clearly
unloaded gun. The next, the demon had practically rushed as nothing but a blur in the night
towards the hooded man, and in the seconds in took for the man to register the movement,
Damian already had him pressed up against the concrete after one swift round kick to the
legs.

Even drunk, Damian Wayne was death incarnate. His skills nothing but automatic reflexes
after too many years of practice.

On the floor, the thief looked too terrified to even bother screaming, staring into those unholy
emerald eyes that almost shined with the light of the moon and lampposts above. Brooklyn
had to physically pry Damian off from punching the man for the demon to let go (while
mumbling nonsense, most fo which she couldn't make out).

"How dare he try to attack us! How dare that street rat try and touch, try and harm what is not
his to even look at" Damian had muttered sensibly at last, stumbling back into her arms as he
frowned at the quickly retreating form of the mugger who was now sobbing as he fled the
scene. Then that intensity turned its attention on her, eyes locked onto her own as he leaned
down to the point that their foreheads almost touched as he added, "I keep you safe"

That last part he'd whispered, but that close to him, Brooklyn had heard it loud and clear. He
was so wasted...
With a smirk, Brook patted his arm as if in congratulations while whispering in return, "Yes,
you did very good in keeping me safe. Now lets go home, Dami"

The Wayne nodded in satisfaction, something that shouldn't have been as endearing as it was.
Then he fished out a worn set of keys, pressing them against her cold hand and making sure
her fingers wrapped around them, his forehead still dangerously close to her own, he
mumbled, "Home. Lets go home, my annoying and very loud nemesis"

Fighting the urge to laugh at his boldness and odd choice of words, Brook made sure no one
from the party or possible snooping neighbors had witnessed that little exchange with the
thief before guiding them away from the main street and deeper into the parking space.

When she finally made it to the dimmest parts of the large parking lot beside Flash's house,
the top model luxury car she was expecting was not there, but rather a familiar blue Jeep.
Clicking the key buttons once more, Brook was shocked at the indisputable confirmation this
was indeed the car belonging to the Wayne.

"Kakogo cherta?" Brooklyn couldn't help but say while standing before the worn vehicle
with Damian by her side, "Why is this here? I thought you brought your car?"

What the hell?

Damian, who smelled like beer and whiskey while still maintaining his usual earthy scent,
managed to say quite calmly and without much stuttering, "This is my new car. I have more
than one, you know"

The Stark felt like her eyes would bulge out of her eyes once she finally realized this wasn't
even a new car. It had the same small scratches, the evident ware and tare from the Jeep that
they had both 'borrowed' when they fled from the Joker's attack. This was the exact same car
Brooklyn thought Laura Barton would take care of returning, maybe even SHIELD.

But here it was, in the silent parking lot of a mansion, the keys belonging to it in her hands.

It wasn't until she managed to secure Damian into the passengers seat before settling in the
one beside him that Brook dared to ask, "Let me get this straight, you stole the car we stole?
Why? Even if you ended up liking the model which I don't see how you could since
you're...you, it would've made more sense for you to buy a new one in perfect condition. You
could've bought seven of these for that matter!"

Damian turned his face in her direction, and with the most straight-faced expression possible,
he explained, "I did not s-steal it, that's beneath me given the amount of wealth I"m worth. I
found the owner and paid him four times what this piece of crap was worth. This is mine"

He'd done what!?

Leaning agains the steering wheel, Brooklyn felt her world turning upside down in
puzzlement. She barely managed to croak out, "You bought this car? I may have had a few
drinks, but I'm certain I remember you complaining about this piece of crap the entire
journey!"
"It is garbage," he agreed, then with a far away look towards the blinking street light before
them, he added calmly, "But it's ours. Plus, I couldn't just leave Gotham in my usual car and
risk the Joker following me to this second-rate party. Neither the clown or his goons would
ever expect a Wayne driving this thing, nor would my family"

At his comment, Brooklyn realized she'd overlooked a huge problem this entire time, not
having through as far ahead as he had.

She couldn't actually drive, and Damian was far too drunk for her to even consider letting
him try. Of course, she'd assumed his fancy car would have a self driving feature, but
beholding the worn stick shift mechanism now, Brook knew she'd be lucky if the AC worked.
Sitting in the driver's seat suddenly felt like a joke. Likely realizing the same issue, the demon
sighed, but placed his hand over her own on the wheel.

"I'll give you instructions. You will not fail" he said with enough confidence for the two of
them, eyes sharp and focused on the road before them.

Brook had no clue why, but she trusted him, felt encouraged enough by his words to start the
car as instructed and brave the streets Happy would never let her attempt to traverse in his life
time. Despite being an ass most of the time, Damian was a surpassingly patient teacher, and
the way he explained things somehow seemed to click in her head, possibly because he went
about working her thought them with things from their past as assassin trainees, like martial
arts moves, or math problems to be solved.

Sure, she'd still almost crashed into Flash's Porsche on her way out the massive parking
space, but aside from that, the trials and errors of the drive home were not life threatening.
Dare she say, Brooklyn was almost getting the hang of it.

At a stop sign, Brooklyn turned to see why Damian's instructions had lessened, only to see
the teen under the glow of the street light was clearly growing tired, all but slumping against
the car seat. Without even registering her movements, Brooklyn took off her Slytherin robes
and draped them across Damian's body in hopes of semblance of comfort and warmth for
him, beholding him for a few more seconds before they were basked in a green light and her
hands returned to the wheel.

It had been a bumpy ride for the rest of the way, but when she made it her empty garage
space in one piece, as had the Jeep. Brooklyn was temped to just sit there for a while to bask
in her victory at the fact that she'd actually driven a car for ten minutes successfully. Half of
that time, without instruction.

Perhaps that was a small warning that she was slightly tipsy and out of her mind, because
such joy quickly transferred onto making sure Damian was comfortably wrapped in her robes
as they made their way inside her building.

Mercifully, Peter had been correct about Aunt May not having yet returned from her date.
The hall was quiet and full of sleeping neighbors, there was no one to witness the two
grounded teens slithering in the darkness, not a soul to witness the delicate consideration
Brooklyn took to try and get her nemesis through the door as silently as possible.
It hadn't been as daunting as she'd feared. Damian was apparently getting to a 'stage of
drunkness' where he grew tired enough to be complacent.

Not once did her nemesis protest as Brook dragged him inside the already lit interior of her
apartment. When she made sure to lock everything down and turn off the robot that kept her
cover up all night, that was when Damian had begun to show a bit of grouchiness, calling out
to her from where she'd left him sprawled on the couch.

"Where are you? Don't you dare abandon me," he'd shouted over the couch, seeming almost
worried until she peeked her head out of from the kitchen.

"Just getting some stuff for you," she explained, unable to stifle her small smile at the sight of
his frown that was morphing into a small pout.

Oh, how much she would bemoan the absence of drunk Damian's moody softness tomorrow.

It was rather comical how the Wayne could barely stay up at times in his drunken state, but
also remain in tune with his fighting spirit and an open gates to his thoughts. He truly was an
oddity in her life, a person she just couldn't figure out entirely no matter how hard she tried.

Once she'd gathered a few things and discarded her black heels somewhere in the living
room, Brooklyn draped one of Damian's arms around her shoulders, ushering him up from
the couch and onto the spare room he'd stayed at last time. He'd looked around the space with
a sense of familiarity, and remained docile as Brook dared to lay him down after quickly
helping him brush his teeth and wash his face (which ended up being more difficult than the
drive over had been).

Knowing it would be useless to try and see if he could dress himself into something more
comfortable, Brooklyn could do nothing more than to get rid of the draped robe, stripped tie,
and his polished shoes. The one thing she had pushed a sleepy Damian to do was to change
out of his pants. 'Mr. I like to wear adult clothes' would be very irritable if he had to go to
school tomorrow with wrinkled pants.

Therefore, she offered him her biggest pair of sweat pants, and with eyes closed, guided his
hands to change without actually touching his skin.

That had been an experience she'd never imagined would happen to her. Helping undress a
Wayne.

Keeping in mind that Damian despised physical touch of any kind (their previous skin to skin
contact being nothing but a fluke), Brook made sure not to violate his privacy or trust, even
when his drunken self was just complaining nonsense about 'Tim Drake' being pain in his ass
or something about The Court of Owls having been nothing but a thorn at his side. Only
when she opened her eyes, Brooklyn realized his rapt attention was on her kneeling frame on
the bed before him...realized his words had meant to serve as a way to distract them both
from the oddity of what was going on. An unexpected kindness.

When she'd managed to finish her self imposed tasks, Brooklyn felt spent enough to collapse
onto her own bed, but in an act of kindness to add to the mystery of all of her recent actions,
Brooklyn made sure her enemy was tucked in under the covers before she even attempted to
leave, she even helped raise his head as popped an aspirin to help with the impending
hangover.

"I'll leave your pants sprawled on the arm chair so they don't get messed up," Brooklyn said
absentmindedly, going about the room to lower the blinds, making sure to leave one of the
hidden daggers from the pockets of his pants near the bedside table. Brook knew she
would've appreciated to have a weapon nearby had she been in his position, but she was still
awestricken to see the dagger was actually the vibranium blade she'd gifted him.

One she'd expected him to just discard or throw away. One he still carried with him.

Once she made sure all was in place, even going as far as to leave a few things for Damian to
use in the morning in the adjacent restroom, Brooklyn made to head to her own room, only to
be stopped by a hand peeking out from under the covers, clutching her passing fingers lightly.

Moving her gaze from their intertwined fingers to his face, Brooklyn joked, "What? Do you
need something else? Maybe a bed time story or a good night kiss?"

Damian, obscured by the relative darkness of the room, whispered, "Why would you let me
into your home? I'm not dying like last time, so why would you help your enemy at his
weakest?"

Brooklyn's eyes went wide as saucers for the hundredth time that night at the comment,
mouth gaping like a fish out of water as her mind failed to come up with a quick explanation
for her unorthodox offer. She wanted to blame the alcohol, but even Brook knew it was all
thanks to Ivan's careless simply of vodka that she was only slightly tipsy despite all she'd
consumed at the party.

Settling down at the edge of the bed, the Stark peered down at her nemesis; her significant
bother, inevitable downfall, and esteemed rival.

The old her would've definitely left Damian to rot at that party, she wouldn't have started and
ended that party with a Wayne by her side to begin with. But it occurred to her that for some
time now, she'd seen him as something more than an obstacle or nuisance.

"I would've done this for anyone," she replied simply, only for Damian to call out her blatant
lie with a click of his tongue.

"You would've done this for your friends, not for anyone else in that party" he corrected, eyes
shinning with a consciousness that hadn't been there before, "So why help me?"

Because...she had no idea. The mere sight of Damian always made Brook feel all fuzzy, like
she couldn't remain calm or indifferent. It was almost as if Brooklyn felt she had to do
something to bother him, or just do something against or with him. It was as if she was bound
to him like a magnet, enemies that were always supposed to clash. Only the recent days spent
talking and being around him made it seem like...

You would've done this for your friends, not for anyone else in that party.
He'd think she was being stupid, but maybe Brook needed drunk Damian's honesty to clear
this oddity up at last. Brushing the strands black hair out his face, Brooklyn whispered
unsurely, "I would've only done this for my friends, you're right about that. I think I've
consider you one against my better judgement since the day you rushed to my aid when I was
attacked by the Red Room. Quite possibly before that"

The bedroom was quiet for a few heartbeats, too many by her count, only for Damian's
smooth voice to suddenly break the silence and say, "Friends? Even if we were not the heirs
to rival companies, or the children of the men caught in a centuries old family rivalry, we
would've still been enemy assassins from different guilds as kids. How could we be friends?"

That was the constant question swirling in her mind. Literally everything in the world said
they were supposed to hate one another.

Yet despite all that, Brooklyn found herself whispering back into the darkness, "Enemies
would not agree to be teammates. I would not let an enemy into my home or care for his
wounds. I would not spend my free time talking for hours with someone I despised, much
less vowing to fight the League for him. Not to mention I've never been particularly good at
being whatever the world expects me to be"

Damian's hand finally let go of her own, only to rest atop the one caressing his hair, not to
stop her movements, but guiding her trembling fingers towards his temple. For a second,
Brooklyn expected him to laugh in her face, to remind her once again why they were
supposed to stand on opposite sides of a battlefield all their lives. Only he did no such thing.

It happened for the briefest of seconds, could very well have been a trick of the darkness, but
Brooklyn could've sworn his gaze softened a considerable fraction.

So softly Brook almost wondered if she was meant to hear the words spoken, Damian said, "I
would not vow to fight the Red Room if I did not think you were tolerable. I would not
accept your awaiting hand, nor would I fight by your side...the longest and most sacred form
of trust we know as assassins. Jon has been the only friend I've ever had, the only one that
dared, but I suppose having another friend won't be the end of the world"

She hadn't said the word 'friend' outright in fear of her offer sounding childish and foolish,
she supposed he'd been braver than her in that regard. The offer was now laid out on the
table, one that had perhaps never been offered between people of their backgrounds. It was
both thrilling and bone-chilling.

"You're really offering?"

"I'm not one to say things I don't mean, much less make offers I don't plan on following
through with. Should you accept...we must swear not to tell a soul, I don't think either of us
are looking forward to fighting our families just because I want to befriend a Stark and you a
Wayne"

Brooklyn.exe stopped working.

As the Stark tried to reboot her brain and process the fact that Damian Wayne actually
wanted to be friends with her, something other than her brain made peace with the fact that
there was really no coming back from that decision. It was her battered and shriveled heart
calling the shots now. In fact, she could've sworn the sounds of both their heartbeats, loud
and erratic, palpitated across the room in anticipation to the one decision that would change
everything they knew.

Yet somehow, Brooklyn knew deep down that things had been changing for a while now, and
perhaps it wasn't all bad.

Brook knew their friendship would not be like the others she had come to posses. Brook
wouldn't be able to go shopping with Damian like she did with Tanya. He wouldn't tell her
silly jokes like Harry did, nor would he be the kind of friend in her life to say endless praises
like Peter or Ned took to doing.

Their friendship would be unique. New.

It would be one built on a foundation of ultimate trust with things that Brook couldn't discuss
with her other friends, even Peter. This friendship would be a secret in the dark like the
bedroom they were in, but one to turn to when the world got overwhelming and only
someone like Damian could help. Their friendship would be one of understanding, not just in
regards to their rocky pasts, but to push one another forward to a better future. There would
be no judgment amongst them. He'd be the friend to turn to when the foundations of her life
and soul seemed to crumble, someone she could count on to keep up with her.

One look into his eyes, and Brooklyn knew he not only understood all she'd pondered, but
agreed wholeheartedly to it.

With a smile she hadn't dared muster before Damian before, Brooklyn said, "I guess since
we're friends now you're gonna have to find something see to call me. Beloved nemesis just
won't cut it anymore, that would be cruel and would hurt my poor heart"

Despite her teasing, Damian seemed to seriously consider her point.

He clutched her hand a little tighter than before, but those green eyes of his were strong and
sure as he replied, "Then you are not my nemesis anymore, just my beloved"

Beloved.

Der'mo, why did that actually sound pleasant?

The name that was once supposed to be nothing but a mocking insult, now turned into
something different, evolving like a caterpillar into a butterfly. It was useless to try and fight
the ever widening smile that bloomed across Brooklyn's face as she shrugged off the new
nickname like it was nothing. Just earlier she'd thought about how others cared to pour false
honeyed words into her ears for favor, how Damian would never be the kind to do so due to
his refreshing honesty. But hearing him calling her something as endearing as beloved, more
so the fact that he meant it with every fiber of his soul, Brooklyn found herself preferring that
above all.
"I suppose that will do, Dami" she whispered, moving to get up from the bed, "Lets hope you
don't deny all of this happened when you wake up tomorrow since I'm already starting to
grow fond of the idea of not hating you twenty-four seven. For the first time in my life, I find
myself glad for all the drinking I was forced into as a child, it means I'm not going to be
drunk enough forget this"

Brook had managed to stand on shaky legs, but the hand atop her own did not let her go to
the door.

Damian stared up at her with his brows creased, fighting with his own mind before saying,
"Friends talk, we always talked even if it was mostly to dish out insults. So I'll talk with the
honesty your new title deserves. You not being able to get drunk...I was not subjected to
drinking to fight the cold, or whipped to death, but the one punishment I received when my
performances were not satisfactory was being left alone in my room for days. I was provided
meals and comforts, but was alone. I know I make it seem like I don't need anyone around, I
just don't want to think that they will stay...only for them to leave me alone in some cold
room"

Brooklyn was smart enough to understand he was talking about the way he talked to his
family, the aloofness he displayed with them...even with Jon and Alfred sometimes. Brook
had come to guess that maybe Damian was not as cold as he let on, but she'd never thought
being left alone as a child might've impacted who he was. She had suffered much, but not
once had she been left alone. In the Red Room, her sleeping quarters were a giant hall full of
rows beds, training was always done with others. Even when being tortured or punished,
Brook had never been alone.

"Sometimes I wish my heart were as cold and detached as I pretend it is, and its your damn
fault its melting"

She almost thought she'd imagined that last admission whispered in the darkness between
them, might've thought herself going mad were it not for the gentle squeeze of his hand.

In an effort to ease the discomforts of her new friend, she squeezed his hand back and said
with honesty that threatened to make her voice raw, "I think my heart is melting too"

Brooklyn soothed her thumb against his temple. Once. Twice.

After a deep sigh, she added gently, "I'm right next door if you need anything, be it a hand to
hold back your hair while you hurl your guts up in the bathroom or someone to talk to. Know
that now you have Jon, Peter, Ned, and I...that you won't have to be alone another day of your
life. I promise you that I will fight to keep that promise, whatever it takes"

At last, his fingers retreated from her own, nodding once before turning on his side and
snuggling into the covers for some well deserved rest. Though she could've sworn she heard
him called out to her in a whisper as she closed the door behind her, not Brooklyn, but
Beloved.

Once she was exhausted and ready for bed, Brooklyn still ended up standing in the middle of
her bedroom for a few seconds, trying to process what had just happened without any clue as
to where to begin.

Damian Wayne was not her enemy anymore, he was her friend.

As far as friendships were concerned in her life, he was basically family...someone she would
fight for until she physically couldn't anymore.

Maybe thats why she pushed back her craving for soft sheets and fluffy pillows, busying
herself with paperwork for a while, even going as far as to text her friends to make sure they
all made it back home safely... and to thank them for dragging her along to the party that had
ended up changing her life. Once they all had replied with their affirmations and well-wishes
for a good night, Brook attempted to turn off her phone, only to accidentally click on her
stored photos.

She stumbled upon a hidden gem, the already forgotten evidence of the minutes Harry had
managed to posses her phone.

There, in that mostly unused digital gallery, were a few photos (most blurry and shaky) of her
and Damian at the card table side by side on that rouge booth. Some showed them drinking,
others smirking at one another after a swift victory. But there was one that was both clear and
unusual, a photo where Damian was actually laughing beside her.

The sound of his laughter hadn't been a dream after all...

He was in the midst of laughter, gazing only at her and not his deck of cards. As for
Brooklyn, she didn't recall ever looking as relaxed as she did in that moment, smiling as she
obscured her eyes with the very tie around his neck.

Before crashing for the night, Brooklyn printed the few clear photos of her new friend and
added them to the wall, right next to the one she took at the safe house of a grumpy Damian
laying in the Bartons' bed in the most abhorrent clothes imaginable. Somehow, those photos
didn't look out of place with the others of her family and friends, not one bit.

They belonged there now, and Brooklyn ended up falling asleep staring at them under the
dim light from the glowing star stickers up above her bed.

Damian POV-

The weight of Titus was missing by his feet, and even though he could see the rays of the sun
from the closed lids of his eyes...Alfred the cat had not rushed to wake him with his
insentient purring. Not to mention the bedsheets felt off...they were too soft, and Damian
could almost sense that the bed he was laying on was significantly smaller than the mammoth
mattress he was used to.

Before opening his eyes, the Wayne caught the familiar smell of fragrant vanilla, the one he
could set apart as belonging to Brooklyn's shampoo. There was also the smell of roasted
coffee grounds, the lazy chirping of birds outside the window that would be found in a place
like Gotham where even small creatures feared to disturb the precariously balanced peace.
He was in Brooklyn's apartment.

Thats when the events of last night came crashing like a tidal wave almost at the same time
an unpleasant headache slammed into his brain. It didn't help that he'd tried to rise from the
bed too quickly, or that it just hit him that he'd agreed to be friends with Brooklyn Stark...and
actually meant it. For the first time in his life, Damian unceremoniously flopped back onto
the cluster of pillows, staring up at the ceiling of the unfamiliar room, only half-hoping it
would morph back into the dark shade of his own decorated with golden edges and dagger
marks from lazy throws...but it never did.

The only thing that got him out of bed was probably the anger at himself for actually getting
drunk, as well as the fact that the Wayne knew Brooklyn wouldn't have accepted being
friends with him if she didn't feel the same. Even when he had been an awful drunk that
needed help taking his shoes and...

As soon as Damian stood up, he fisted the soft fabric covering his legs, was greeted with the
sight of SHIELD issued grey sweat pants that most certainly didn't belong to him. They were
too short, reached to about a little higher than his ankle, but the true cause for the blooming
heat across his cheeks came when he recalled the help he'd gotten to put those on in the first
place.

Fighting the unbecoming blush across his face, the Wayne swiftly made his way to the
adjacent bathroom to get ready for the day, now familiar with how things worked since his
previous stay. Yes, he'd have to wear the same clothes as yesterday, but at least Jon had texted
him with a promise to bring his backpack over. Well, that and a string of excited texts
Damian's headache couldn't really process.

Making his way out the room, following the scent of warm coffee and fresh bagels was more
of an involuntary action as he focused on keeping his head from breaking in half. When he
finally made it to the familiar space, dressed and ready for the day, he found Brooklyn sitting
on a kitchen stool not looking nearly as disheveled as he felt.

His nem...his friend, was sipping from her own coffee at a leisurely pace while inspecting a
small glass-like screen. When she heard the sound of his footsteps, Damian had expected
Brooklyn to turn around and laugh at him, maybe joke about his lack of alcohol tolerance.

But the Stark did neither of those things.

She smiled, then gestured to the seat beside her where a mug of coffee and a few bagels were
already laid out. Along with two small pills and some water.

Once he was seated on the stool beside her, that familiar and not-entirely-unfavored smirk
returned to Brooklyn's features as she said "Good morning, sweetie. Sleep well?"

Sweetie. Hilarious.

"Like the dead, " Damian replied, trying not to seem too desperate as he downed half his
coffee in one go. It was prepared well, likely due to the experience from her days working at
that diner they'd visited long ago. The one owned by the odd man in crazy clothes and kind
eyes.

"How's the hangover? I left you something for the headache so you can get through classes.
And before you ask, those pills are not poison, now that we're friends, I'd never dream of
harming you" she said casually, honestly, even as her auburn ponytail almost smacked him
across the face as she turned back to her reading.

Now with some sense of life returning to his body after the coffee, Damian noticed there was
faint music playing all this time, something he'd cataloged as a morning habit of Brooklyn's
last time he'd been there. Today, the music was not blasting loudly though, likely as an
attempt to ease his headache.

One would think that now that they were suddenly friends after being enemies for so long,
things would be beyond awkward and uncomfortable. But Damian quickly realized with
slight astonishment that even if they had remained unwilling allies last night...Brooklyn
would've likely done all this for him as well.

There really was nothing different aside from their lack of insults.

Maybe thats why Damian finally let his body relax, flipping through the unsuspecting
messages of his family as he asked, "Before you ask, I do remember the atrocities of last
night's confessions, but not everything from the revelry. What happened exactly?"

Brooklyn almost spilled her sip of coffee at the words.

"At the party? Well...we had a fun time. If you're worried about how your drunken state
could've affected your reputation, it didn't. You were mostly still yourself and everyone
knows how we are when we get competitive so no one will think much of seeing us around
one another if they even remember that"

Damian swore to himself right then and there that he'd never drink another day in his life,
something he should sworn before considering something as simple as a spiked drink to
father was the reason for Damian's unwanted conception.

"Mostly myself? Meaning?"

Brooklyn bumped his shoulder with her own, smirking as she said, "You were still still
serious and unsocial, but you did speak your mind more to me, like when you told me you
liked..."

Liked! Liked what!? What had he done...

"Liked the Jeep down in my garage," she finished, to which Damian released a relieved
breath of air, not really sure why he'd been so worried in the first place.

Damian went back to his phone, but not before glaring down at the girl beside him as he
grumbled, "I don't like the car"
Buying that Jeep had been a spur of the moment decision, something that had required
Damian to not only track down the owner using Drake's equipment, but almost give up his
yearly savings once the man showed some emotional reluctance to let the vehicle go,
especially after it had been stolen.

Why he'd bought it? Damian had no clue. It kept appearing in his sketchbook, his dreams...it
was maddening.

When Jon had seen it for the first time yesterday on their way to the party, the Kryptonian
thought it was someone else's, likely Todd's or maybe even something belonging to Barbara's
deceased father.

But it was his, no matter how run down or pathetic it was.

The Stark, seemingly unaware of the turmoil in his mind, added, "Good thing you kept it, you
actually managed to do the impossible and teach me how to drive. Happy will be so... well,
happy"

The fact that he'd been able to teach 'Little Miss Perfect' something brought as sense of
accomplishment he couldn't quite figure out how to process. Damian only managed to nod at
that, then complain about killing Flash at school today for hosting that stupid party if only to
bring justice to his aching head.

"You do realize that was our first act of teenage rebellion. We went to a party, a Halloween
bash nonetheless..." Brooklyn chuckled, "You and I always end up in the weirdest of
situations"

To say that was an understatement would be inaccurate. Sure, he'd fought many criminals in
his day, Damian had known his fare share of odd scenarios, but nothing quite like all the
times he got stuck with the Stark.

It made him smirk slightly.

"So I suppose we are no longer enemies, at least amongst ourselves then," Damian said,
bitting the bullet for the sake of confirmation, "We are beyond allies now?"

Brooklyn set down her bagel, turning back to him visible reluctance he almost mistook as her
regretting their conversation last night.

"I meant it, I think of us as friends, but only if you want to deal with the risks and secrecy
that comes along with that" she said before fidgeting with plate and then almost frantically
moving over to the sink to discard her dishes, her back to him.

He'd been walking that line for days, maybe even weeks now. Danger or getting in trouble
had never been deterrents to him for anything, and even though he had little to no experience
with friendship...he knew he could give it a go. He wanted to..no, needed to. Walking that
line of hatred and acceptance of the Stark had been maddening, a push and pull between his
own desires and his better judgement, yet even so he knew the decision about his trust in
Brooklyn had been made up long ago.
Brooklyn was something akin to his equal, a being that was just as strong and smart as he
was, someone he could talk about things no one else would comprehend. S

he wouldn't be like Jon, he realized, Brooklyn would be a different sort of friend.

"I suppose it is only logical we are friends," Damian said at last, moving beside her to discard
his own dishes into the soapy water.

Brooklyn's shoulders sagged with what he could only describe as relief. When she looked up
from beside him, her small red-lipped smile was enough for the Wayne to solidify their
agreement, willing to figure out what it meant day by day if need be.

That's when Jon decided to knock on the balcony doors, holding two backpacks in hand as he
squished his cheeks on the glass, begging to be let in, breaking whatever spell had Damian
unable to look away from his new friend. He almost pondered telling Brooklyn not to let him
in, but she was already rolling her eyes and opening the doors with a chuckle.

While Jon went about getting some food from the kitchen after that, Damian and Brooklyn
were already standing by the front door, putting on their shoes.

When Brooklyn looked up from strapping her heeled shoes, she let out a humorous huff of
air, smiling as she reached up towards his neck. Not touching, but hovering close to him.
Now familiar with this little arrangement of theirs, Damian nodded for her to continue as she
went about fixing the folds of his black turtle neck. The brief touches of her warm fingers
against his skin no longer sent warning signs across his body as it did with..well every other
being in the world.

It was normal. Soothing.

In turn, he set about fixing the lapels of her burgundy coat as well, slightly pleased for some
reason when Brooklyn did not flinch away from his own touch. Not even as his hand made
way to her wrist, the one still covered by that red watch, hiding the scars beneath.

She looked back up at him then, brow raised as she whispered, "Well then, Dami, back to
pretending to be enemies for a while"

Damian found that thought unpleasant now, but he knew it would be necessary with that
SHIELD spy in school and their blabbering classmates. Yet there seemed to be a certain calm
knowing Brooklyn would be able to be herself around him at the end of the day, once they
were alone and needn't bother with masks.

"It appears so, beloved" he said, testing the new nickname out without its adjoining insult,
surprised to see Brooklyn beam at the new name. he couldn't help but add while they were
still able to converse amongst one another in pure honesty, "Even though you must've done
progress with your driving last night, I'll take the wheel since I don't particularly feel like
dying"

She outright laughed at that, raising her hands in the air in surrender just as Jon turned around
the corner with a bagel in his mouth. He'd greeted the two with a smile, raving about he party
and how fun it was as well as thanking Brooklyn for taking Damian in for the night. The
Stark had brushed it off of course, and as the three made it out the door early to avoid
Brooklyn's babysitter, another door down the hall opened, revealing Parker and Leeds.

It was Parker who looked up, astonished for a second, only to smile and say, "I was just about
to knock on your door, though I had no idea Damian and Jon were already here! Do you two
want to come to school with us?"

The last thing Damian wanted to do was spend more time with Parker, who infuriated him for
some reason. Yet Jon and Brooklyn had already agreed, so Damian was forced to drive them
all to school.

Leeds looked like his head hurt as much as Damian's used to, and once they were in the Jeep,
Brooklyn (who had taken the passenger's seat), turned back to hand him some pills for the
headache which she'd apparently been keeping in case Damian needed more. It was a small
and nearly overlooked detail of what could only be kindness reserved for someone she cared
about.

He had spent most of his life being struck by both physical and metaphorical daggers. Thats
probably why he had no clue what to do or say when someone handed him a flower instead
of inducing a wound. He still didn’t know what to make of any kindness, but little by little as
he had been for a while now, Damian was learning not to look for explosives hidden amidst
soft petals.

He still didn't know if it was a good or bad thing that the instinct to trust her came so easy
sometimes.

Parker and Leeds spent quite a while questioning why Damian and Jon were in Brooklyn's
home so early in the day, wondering who the Jeep belonged to. Brooklyn merely said the
party had clearly been rough on everyone, pointing to a hungover Leeds who had apparently
stayed with Parker last night. All suspicions were easily diverted after that, even from those
enhanced individuals not suffering from alcohol induced aches.

The real headache of the day came when they arrived at the school parking lot. Though there
were significantly less students at that time of day, the crowds of sick students were already
building up. Though Damian knew it would certainly cause students to talk— since they
clearly had nothing better to do— the shock on their faces mercifully seemed to lessen once
they realized it wasn't just him and his beloved getting out of the car, but others as well.

As a group, they stood before the battered Jeep, staring out at the mass of students gathered
in the parking lot who were gazing their way in complete astonishment.

It was Jon who whispered, "Well, at least we're a team right?"

The group looked to him, noticing Jon was confidently staring back at the wandering eyes as
he swung an arm around Peter's and Brooklyn's shoulder.

With that, they all seemed to be spurred into motion, and as a...as a team, they made their
way past the hoards of students, teachers, and the angry looking SHIELD agent that didn't
 seem to appreciate arriving at school alone. No one dared to stand in their way, not as they
walked inside where Bennet and Jones (Brooklyn's other friends) seemed to be hiding from
the cold by the lockers today. They too seemed slightly astonished by the sight of enemies
walking in together, but none more than Osborn.

That face...Damian would treasure that puzzled look forever.

Though they did have to part ways eventually, Damian was at least placated by the
knowledge that despite not being able to make his new friendship known (not the he would
want to regardless), at least the idiotic students of the school would learn not to mess with his
new friend if he had anything to say about it. Oftentimes, he didn't have to say anything at all
to get people to back down.

Though he and Brooklyn already had a tendency to protect one another, Damian vowed that
as his new friend, no harm would come Brooklyn's way ever again.

If anyone ever tried to harm his beloved, they would pay a steep price. That was his vow.

Chapter End Notes

Now I can finally share the story behind the beloved nemesis thing!

While watching the animate movies or reading the DC comics, I noticed that Talia
(Damian's birth mother), always referred to Bruce Wayne as her 'beloved'. I imagine that
is likely the only term of endearment Damian ever heard growing up with her, and
associated it as a word for those you care for, not just in a romantic sense likely because
Damian knows there is no love between his parents.

Him calling Brook a 'beloved nemesis' was more of a subconscious thing for him to
write since he was starting to trust her. Now that they are friends, he remembers the
fondness of the word, and has decided to use as a secret way to tell Brook how much he
cares for her while still making her think it's just a mocking homage to their earlier
squabbles.

Just thought it would be an interesting thing to share!

 Animal Planet Documentary
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Richard 'Dick' Wayne POV-

It had been a long day of stopping the Joker's minions from brining havoc to Gotham, the one
place the clown always seemed to return to even when he evidently had higher aspirations to
ruin the whole world.

Yet, despite all the work that had been done today and the importance attached to it, Dick
made an effort to return early today to check up on Damian.

Since that night the eldest noticed little D was acting odd, he'd felt even more guilty for not
being around more. So he'd asked his wife to come to the Manor today so they could at least
keep the teen company, even if Damian was likely just gonna kick them out or ignore them.
Sometimes, just sharing a space with his little brother felt like its own kind of bonding, and if
thats the most Damian would let Dick do for him...then they'd both just have to make the best
of it.

What his exhausted body and mind most certainly didn't need then was the sight of Tim
kneeling by the shrubbery of potted plants Alfred liked to keep at the top of the stair railing,
looking down into the main living room space.

At first, Nightwing thought his brother had overworked himself again, as he often did, and
was passed out on the floor. That certainly wouldn't be the first time such an unfortunate
event would've happened. But the faint whispering from Tim's crouched form said otherwise,
something that should've clued Dick to possible mischief from the most clever of his
brothers.

Never mind that Tim was supposed to be back at the company running numbers or doing
whatever CEOs were supposed to attend to, therefore Dick couldn't help but wonder what
could possibly be holding his interest in a mere cluster of plants? With an eye-roll to his wife
that had flown them discretely into the building, Dick slowly approached his brother and
asked, "I know I'm going to regret saying this, but what are you doing?"

In seconds, Dick was being pushed down alongside Tim until he was splattered on the floor
with the air being knocked from his lungs. Before Dick could scream out a reprimand, Tim
placed a finger to his lips, and due to his long history as a vigilante he decided to keep his
complaints for later until he could be sure all was safe.

Even though his brother looked like a kid caught with a cookie jar (or in Tim's case, the
equivalent would likely be a box of imported coffee grains), Dick's brother seemed far too
amused and happy to signify any looming danger, his rare smile almost obscured the
permanent eye bags under his eyes.
Instead of saying anything, Tim quickly turned and gestured for Starfire to join them, an
afterthought before pushing a few branches aside and placing his battered phone back to face
the lonely living room below.

Only it wasn't empty as it ought to be.

Damian wasn't hauled up in his room as per usual, nor was he training down at the Batcave
like a madman...he was down there, sitting on one of the long plush couches with a stack of
papers in hand...and a Stark sitting beside him, far closer than Damian would ever allow
anyone to be under normal circumstances. Dick honestly thought for a second that he
might've suffered a minuscule concussion during patrols that he'd have to get looked at by a
snarky Alfred, only when he rubbed at his eyes, the image remained unchanged.

Yes, that was undoubtedly Brooklyn Stark. The same wavy red hair, knowing brown eyes that
he was willing to bet all infant assassins possessed, even that voice from below was familiar
to him after news channels had focused all their energy on her lately. Mercifully, both teens
were facing away from the railing of the stairs, and Dick was certain that there was no way
they would've heard him talking earlier since they had music on, some boring and ancient
orchestral piece the youngest Wayne would probably listen to if he wasn't allergic to the
sounds of human merriment (as Jason would put it).

Just the fact that Miss Stark was here...it had Dick scanning the boy below in a panic
wondering if Damian had managed to get hurt again.

"What's going on?" Dick whispered harshly to his brother, moving aside slightly so as to let
Starfire take a peek and hopefully refute his findings.

Despite looking like nothing more than three children spying on something silly, Tim proudly
explained, "I came home early after a meeting with Oscorp, all thanks to him wanting to
spend more time with his son after what happened at Family Day with the Stark mind you.
When I came in through the window like you two, because doors are for losers, I was on my
way to the kitchen when I saw those two down there sitting together"

Starfire turned her glowing emerald eyes Tim's way, whispering in reprimand, "So you're
filming them?"

Tim smirked, "Even better. Now ssshhh!! I'm watching the enemies interact in their natural
habitat"

Dick's brother didn't feel the need explain what that meant, which was a shit habit of his,
having people struggle to catch up to his mind's speed. Curiosity was too strong a force to let
the situation pass though, so all three went back to looking at the sight down below, with
Nightwing feeling a little guilty on invading his brother's privacy. But in his defense, that was
a Stark down there.

Never mind that, Damian was hanging out with a GIRL outside of school obligations. There
had to be something wrong.
Past the gentle sounds of the violin strings music, the Stark's chuckle echoed along the empty
room as she threw a small pillow Damian's way, which he dodged easily...but to Dick's
dismay, this brother didn't retaliate in kind and then some. Little D just huffed annoyedly with
a shake of his head and turned back to the papers on his lap.

That's when he saw it.

Like a shark lurking dangerously in the ocean, Titus approached the room from the east
entrance. That in itself was alarming, but it was made worse by the fact that the dog had seen
the Stark throw that pillow. Even just sitting near Damian was worthy of a death sentence in
the dog's eyes, regardless of where that person stood on the scale of family enemies.

Tim suddenly announced quietly beside him, "A predator approaches, stalking through the
planes of forgotten pizza with one motive in mind, killing Brooklyn Stark"

Dick shot his brother a slow disbelieving look once he realized he wasn't talking to either of
them, but rather to his phone.

This was madness. Fucking madness.

Just as Kori looked about ready to get up and go save the Stark, Titus pounced with the speed
of a gazelle that left Dick with no choice but to cover his eyes and wonder how the hell they
were going to explain the dead body of an heiress in their living room to B. Beside him, Kori
gasped out in horror as they waited for the wails of pain and suffering to start...only the
scream heard was more of of annoyance. Daring a peek down at what could've just been a
quick death and disinterest from Damian, Dick found the massive dog was curled up by
Brooklyn's feet contently, running his snout against her cherry-blossom colored stilettos.

The girl leaned her head back on the couch with a sigh, "Why must this beast come bother
me like this? I bet you trained it to annoy me"

Damian removed his gaze from the packet in hand, looking down at his dog with both
puzzlement and defeat, a nearly foreign expression that certainly shouldn't have chosen this
situation to make itself known.

"I did no such thing," Damian muttered, "For whatever twisted reason, Titus is fond of you.
I'm thinking of taking him to the vet to get his brain checked for a tumor"

The Stark turned to face the young Wayne, a move that didn't cause Damian to shuffle away
from the closeness of it all.

"Oh, don't be like that! You said I was radiant, remember? He's as sane as you are"

Dick and his two companions had to painfully restrain their screams within their bodies, in
fact, Tim looked about ready to drop his phone at the words. The three waited for Damian to
refute the claim, but he merely shot her a frown and said, "You better not tell people about
that"
The girl grinned. "As if anyone would believe me. Let's just keep going, ok? Your dog is
lucky I'm too exhausted to shove it aside, but that doesn't mean we can afford to relax"

Indeed, Titus did stay curled up contently yet sharply by her feet, the way he often did when
he was guarding Damian from any and all possible dangers. Only this time the dog was
facing away from his master, protecting the enemy instead. And his little brother, for all his
protective fierceness when it came to pets he'd adopted, was easily willing to let the crime
slide under the rug.

Damian shrugged, "I put up with Leeds and Parker for your sake, let Titus do as he will"

Surprisingly, the Stark complied.

Dick couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on. None of what was going on down
there made sense. Especially what came next.

Damian threw his packet on the coffee table, then turned to the Stark and his calm and loving
expression almost made Dick question whether that was a actually his brother.

With kind eyes and no trace of annoyance or anger in his voice, Damian said softly to
Brooklyn, "My only love sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown, and known too
late. Prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathed enemy"

The Stark too placed down her own packet of homework, and like that was the most normal
sentence in the world that totally did not mean that Damian had fallen in love with her, she
replied to him, "Your hand is like a holy place that my hand is unworthy to visit. If you're
offended by the touch of my hand, my two lips are standing here like blushing pilgrims,
ready to make things better with a kiss."

Damian WAS leaning his head against his hand on the couch, staring her way as if Brooklyn
Stark hadn't just confessed her own affection in the creepiest of ways.

Is this how flirting was now a days?

The thought of that made Dick feel older all of the sudden. But it still did not make sense!
Damian Wayne flirting, giving heart eyes to the girl he hated above all else! Never.

"Good pilgrim, you don't give your hand enough credit. By holding my hand you show polite
devotion. After all, pilgrims touch the hands of statues of saints. Holding one palm against
another is like a kiss" Damian said, a half-smile...A SMILE, across his face as he took
Brookyln's hand into his own.

Dick had to place a hand by his own mouth to keep the shrieks and screams at bay.

WHAT THE HELL WAS HAPPENING!?

That wasn't Damian down there! This had to some sort of sick joke from Tim. Had he made
two holograms of the teens to play a prank? But beside Dick, his brother seemed just as
shocked, maybe more so.
"Don't saints and pilgrims have lips too?" The Stark said, leaning closer on the couch as if to
be nearer to Damian. At this point Dick was clutching his wife's hand for support, while she
stared down at the teens with fondness.

Oh, but the weird assassin flirting down there wasn't over.

Damian looked away shyly, which was odd on its own, but accompanied with the words
"Yes, pilgrim—they have lips that they're supposed to pray with" it just became weirder.

"I had no clue Damian was such a romantic. This is beautiful!" Starfire whispered, pushing
some more of the foliage aside to get a better look despite her earlier whispers that this was a
breach of privacy.

Dick wanted to argue that Damian was in fact, not a romantic. Damian had been the one who
spent half an hour before Dick's wedding arguing the stupidity of affection and illusions of
love. Now there he was, the prodigal demon himself, making weird pilgrim flirting
comments.

The Stark did not seem bothered by the weirdness of it all, in fact, she seemed very happy as
she replied, "Well then, saint, let lips do what hands do. I'm praying for you to kiss me.
Please grant my prayer so my faith doesn't turn to despair"

What kind of weird role-play was this anyways....

Surely Damian would never...oh never mind, he was still smiling and playing along with a
shy remark.

"Saints don't move" the youngest Wayne said, "even when they grant prayers"

Since when did Damian believe in...oh this was wrong, something was very wrong here!

It was Tim that whispered, not to them, but to the camera, "The adolescents have established
communication and preformed their mating call, will the female accept?"

Dick, as if his mind was not already in shambles, turned to his brother with a raised brow.
What the hell was he saying? Was everyone crazy today?!

Maybe one of the Joker's goons had killed Dick, and this was some messed up trick of the
afterlife...it had to be, right?

Down below in the living room, the Stark smiled, pink lips moving closer to Damian as she
whispered just loud enough for Dick to hear, "Then don't move, while I act out my prayer"

The three adults leaned forward with jaws on the ground as they expected the two teens to
kiss. Dick wasn't sure if he wanted to rejoice at the fact that Damian was willing to kiss
someone, even if it was a Stark, or if he wanted to go throw up somewhere.

But just as the two leaned ever so slightly, eyes hazy and smiles unfaltering, Brooklyn Stark
pulled back with a chuckle, leaning down on the couch space behind her as she clutched her
stomach.
"And that...is observed attempt #8 at establishing non-platonic bonds...but unfortunately...it
seems to have been ineffective...this adolescent will have to retreat...and try again...another
day..." Tim whispered, in that same deep voice that Dick just realized was supposed to imitate
a nature documentary host.

He might've laughed at that, but Dick was currently too worried about his brother getting
rejected, only to see his own amused smirk as he leaned back on the couch and said, "And to
think people consider this good writing. This is ridiculous"

Wait....

Dick was suddenly hurled back to his school days at Gotham High, when he rarely payed
attention and arrived late to class all the time. But there it was, a bit of retained knowledge in
the back of his head...that was Romeo and Juliet.

Those packets were not homework, but scripts. This was acting.

Nightwing released a relieved sigh he had no clue he was holding back, glad to see the world
hadn't lost its mind after all. Or at least not completely. Sure, those two were probably acting
for something no doubt school related, but what about her being at the manor? What about
Titus' behavior? The way Damian did not refuse all touch from the girl before him?

That was not part of a play...that was just them.

The teens recovered from their amusement, leaning forward to reach for some tea no doubt
made by Alfred, meaning he knew a Stark was here and said nothing about it. Interesting.

Down below, the girl said after a sip from her teacup, "Good riddance that Romeo and Juliet
die at the end. Those two are beyond weird. It physically kills me to act like Romeo
sometimes"

Setting down his own cup, Damian nodded in agreement, "At least it will soon be over.
Everyone will know not to underestimate us again, and Flash will be all the poorer for it"

Oh...that made more sense. This was Damian's competitive nature at play.

"He's probably still pissed about the party though when you refused to let him dance with
me" the girl said, causing little D to frown.

"We will never speak of that party again" Damian said with a groan, "And I will never attend
such childish events from now on"

...

HOLD ON...DAMIAN WENT TO A PARTY?! AN ACTUAL PARTY WITH

TEENAGERS! WHEN!?

Looking towards Tim, Dick noticed his brother was equally as clueless to this new
information. Even his wife Kori looked like she was expecting this to be some sort of joke.
The Stark got up, smirking as she backed up from the couch while smoothing down her
causal clothes that seemed far too simple for someone who'd been on TV with lavish dresses
for the past week.

"You're just mad that you're a lightweight"

That was a comment directed at Damian, insinuating Dick's youngest brother had in fact
drunk alcohol at a high school party.... which was impossible.

Damian did not deny the statement.

"Well, you're an awful driver. You could've gotten us killed long before we made it back to
your home. You're lucky my brain was still sharp as ever to give proper instructions"

Even Tim had dropped his nature documentary act to whisper a few curses in disbelief.

It took Dick a little loner than it should to process that Damian had gone to a high school
party, which was fine in its own right considering all of Bruce's children had gone to party's
as kids, snuck out, all that jazz.

But someone like Damian doing that...yeah that was too much to process. Not only had little
D gotten drunk at a party with a Stark, but she had driven them to her home! Meaning...oh
god, meaning Damian stayed at the Stark's home!

The eldest Wayne looked around for a scrip they could be referencing this time, perhaps they
were part of another sort of act for school. But this seemed to be genuinely them just
pondering over past memories.

Even Dick let out a few curses at that realization.

Unaware of their audience, Damian stood up from the couch with impeccable posture,
moving towards Brooklyn as she said with a smile, "But you kept the jeep! I can't believe you
payed a total nobody enough for a Porsche for that piece of junk! But since it took us to the
safe house, I suppose I am emotionally attached to it as well. Can we name it? I heard people
do that to their cars"

Damian stalked closer as she backed up round the table, not in fear, buts as if they were
playing a game.

Thats when Dick recalled the old looking sky blue jeep in the garage of the mansion,
something the eldest had originally thought belonged to Jason, something said brother
could've stolen last minute for a mission and forgotten all about it. Apparently, even that car
was not what it seemed.

"Its my car. I'll name it"

The Stark smirked, waving a finger around his direction as she argued, "But I'm the one that
chose it! We can call it....Roscoe!"
Damian stopped his approach, looking down at a peacefully sleeping Titus...wait what!?
Since when did titus sleep when someone ws around Damian?...then back to the enemy as he
said, "German for deer forest, why?"

The Stark settled on an armchair, lazily fisting the fabric of her denim dress as she said, "Its
the first thing that came to mind when I remembered the car. You drove it through the wood
like area remember? Thats why I thought of forest, to remember the good ol' days of getting
chased to a safe house by a clown who wants us dead"

It was truly a miracle no one was dead yet, but in that moment, Dick was questioning what
kind of relaxants his brother must've taken to be able to put up with all that conversation.
Sometimes even just saying hello to someone in the house was too much for Damian, but
right now the teen seemed relaxed..or as relaxed as someone like he could be.

When a noise came from the door into the living room, both teens moved in unison, Damian
taking out one of his retractable katanas from his pocket, while the Stark did something to her
watch, turning it into a metal glove of sorts that lit up like a beacon ready to fire.

Dick knew no one was supposed to be back yet, hell, he and Tim shouldn't even be home yet,
so who could it be? Afraid the Joker decided to strike their home next, Dick made to move
out from their hiding place to help, but his wife halted his movements as a cat strutted into
the living room like nothing was wrong, then laid beside a calm Titus.

Thats when he realized...Titus hadn't bolted up right to protect his master. Had....had he
trusted Brooklyn to do that for him? Dick had long since stopped questioning the fact that
Titus was by far the smartest dog in the world, so the fact that said dog could eve process the
concept of trusting someone...well it wasn't impossible.

Realizing it was just Alfred the Cat, both teens slowly lowered their weapons, their stances
relaxing as they kept a weary eye on the door.

"You and your pets" Brooklyn muttered with a frown, "I wouldn't be surprised if you're
hiding a farm around here somewhere Dami, maybe a few horses and cows"

Dami? What the hell?

Damian placed the hilt of his katana back inside he pocket of his pants, then with a roll of his
eyes he said with all the seriousness in the world, "Don't bring my cow into this argument,
plus you're the one that suggested I should take care of cats with Selina for bonding
purposes"

SHE'D WHAT!

Tim briefly dropped his phone, but managed to catch it before it hit the wooden floor and
gave away their hiding spot.

All the Wayne siblings had noticed Selina and Damian getting along more than before, which
they had considered nothing short of a miracle. That usually just meant Damian didn't say
anything mean when the two interacted, but that was big! Dick had assumed it has something
to do with Selina being pregnant that had finally made his youngest brother cave...but a Stark
had done that!

And Damian...no, DAMI, had listened.

Dick's head was starting to hurt, his brain working too hard to try and keep up with he images
his eyes were sending, even his mouth and cheeks were starting to hurt because of all the
smiling.

Too bad he couldn't just hit pause and process everything, because the teens were still at it
with the odd behavior that sometimes felt like it was gonna send Dick into a heart attack. He
hadn't even noticed that he was hungry or tired as he beheld the two back on the couch,
talking as if they had known each other all their lives.

Damian was spouting full sentences worth of responses, and Brooklyn seemed like she had
great knowledge of Damian's mind as she spoke. Sure, it's not like Damian suddenly became
a stranger, he still sported his casual stoic expression, kept his posture impeccable, and even
complained quite a bit.

But he seemed interested in what the Stark had to say, Damian even seemed to know quite a
bit about her. This wasn't just he two being forced to work on a school assignment together,
Damian would've kick her out by now, but this...is this how they usually were around one
another?

They spoke causally about training together, even if they still insisted on being the best
fighter. Not once did Damian correct Brooklyn when she called him Dami with a smirk on
her face, nor did he bat an eyelash when she offered to eat the meat on his plate when they
took a field-trip to Oscorp later in the year.

She knew Damian was a vegetarian?

Once they had books back on their laps, working out math problems while keeping an easy
flow of conversation, was when Dick realized his brother was also spouting nicknames back
at the Stark.

"Hey pass me the calculator" Damian said, not looking up from his notebook.

The Stark smirked, "Whats the magic word?"

Beside Dick, Tim said back in his commentator voice, "It appears the female adolescent has
chosen death"

But death did not come, instead Damian looked up at her with a glare and said, "If my
beloved doesn't want me to command Titus to lay on her lap, she will pass me the calculator"

The fact that the word beloved was used so casually by non other than Damian was scary, but
it seemed the occurrences of today had completely numbed his sense of shock as Dick just
accepted the weirdness.
"Ok" Dick whispered, "Now that seems like the kind fo flirting Damian would adapt" earning
a gentle slap on the arm form Starfire.

"Do you think they had sex or something after that party?" Tim whispered back rudely,
"Maybe thats why he's being so friendly. I thought we didn't have to bother with the drug,
alcohol or safe sex talks since the demon practically gave them to us at the age of ten... but
maybe someone should talk to the demon about this teenage stuff"

Both Tim and Dick knew Damian would never do such a thing, even just thinking he had
been about to kiss the Stark earlier had seemed impossible to begin with, but how come they
were so friendly to one another?

Was it due to being hunted down by the Joker? Dick had never stopped to ponder what had
led to those two being in that safe house, he'd just been glad his brother was alive. But now
he was really starting to wonder about that...

After both teens seemed to soar through their homework, it was said Stark who turned back
to the cluster of papers they had been rehearsing with. She skimmed through the pages as
Titus attempted to nuzzle his head by her stomach.

The fact that the dog was being incredibly friendly and almost needy for attention was more
scary than endearing at this point. The fact that Damian didn't seem to mind it as much was
even weirder. Damian had been stuck to the hip with Titus since the Great Dane had come
rushing towards him at the Kent farm!

It was after the kids began discussing more Shakespeare lines that Tim spoke up again.

"For our sibling viewers that never pay attention to Damian...the male teenager ironically
named Titus... his sock destroying beast...after the bloodiest and most violent of
Shakespeare's plays titled Titus Andronicus. Titus from said play was a renowned general
who brutally killed many people in horrific ways... This is the fate that awaits us all once the
teenager finds out this documentary is being made, but one worth the sacrifice as the
adolescent seems to pursue attempt number nine" Tim said, voice deep and barely holding
back a chuckle.

Down in the living room, Damian had stood up, rolling his eyes at the script as he mentioned
something about practicing for the masquerade.

Now, Dick remembered very little where Shakespeare was concerned, he hadn't even known
Titus was named after a play to begin with as Tim had just mentioned. But he did remember
movies! Nigthtwing was able to recall Leonardo DiCaprio dancing as Romeo...he knew what
was coming, but couldn't quite believe it.

He'd seen Damian and Brooklyn Stark dance once before, but that had been an accident
orchestrated by the two adults spying from the bushes. This...as Brooklyn accepted Damian's
hand willingly...as they both began to sway to invisible music at complete ease...

What a sight...
Like that night at the gala, the two teens were in perfect sync, like they were reading the
other's minds, just no longer trying to kill each other. They moved around the couches and
tables with ease, exchanging complaints about how none of their classmates could dance and
what a pity that was.

"They look like true love. Scary assassin true love!" his wife whispered, beholding the sight
below with shining eyes.

Dick was still trying to process the fact that Damian was letting another being touch him, that
Brooklyn Stark was able to let herself be dipped with a laugh, and that when she mockingly
reciprocated the action Damian merely yanked a strand of her hair as revenge.

Their youngest brother was not harsh with his dance moves, his hands were clearly gentle on
her back and the one clutching her hand was not squeezing the circulation out of her hold.

His fingers ran lines down her back soothingly, which the Stark did not balk at, not as she
began whispering, "At least I was stuck with a competent dance partner. Did you see Eli
trying to dance yesterday?"

Tim's voice was shaking slightly as he said, "Now...a true once in a lifetime event, a Damian
Wayne just smiled..."

He had...

Not a smirk of the half-smile from earlier.

It was a little awkward, as if his face was not used to shifting into a smile, but it was there,
however small.

Looking to his wife for confirmation just to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks, he
noticed Starfire was equally as awestruck.

She'd known Damian for nearly as long as Dick had, had worked with him when the
youngest Wayne was tasked with helping the Titans. She had often expressed her worry for
him, wondered just as much as Dick had whether the day would ever come when Damian
would find someone to relax around.

This-this was it.

"He looked like a flapping chicken without a head" Damian said, face serious even as his
partner burst into laugher as she was spun around.

He was making jokes now...maybe Dick was dead after all? He'd have to ask Jason what
death felt like just to confirm it later.

The Stark moved to fix the collar of his turtleneck then, something so domestic Dick
suddenly realized those two were like an old married couple! He should know, being actually
married an all.
Maybe Tim wasn't that far off and Dick did need to talk to Damian about... teenage things
after all. She was touching him...and he wasn't pushing away...how was that even possible!?

It was in the midst of this end of days moment that the front door actually opened this time,
both teens separating from their arms and quickly moving to gather their weapons once more.
It was almost scary how similar those two were.

Turned out, the intruder was no an enemy of any sort, it was just Alfred who'd retuned with
groceries. Finally! Someone who would do something about all this!

Alfred merely greeted the teens as he passed by the living room, at which point Brooklyn
Stark reluctantly moved to help him with the bags, and for the first time IN HIS LIFE,
Damian went to help as well.

Though Alfred was clearly as shocked about Damian's actions as the peeping toms up above,
the man did not seem all that shocked to have a Stark helping out. In fact, he greeted her like
an old friend.

"Oh! Mistress Brooklyn, thank you for your help" Alfred said, smiling fondly at the girl
while he clutched the remaining bag on his arm.

Oh no...Alfred liked her already.

"We can't hate her anymore" Dick whispered to his brother, "She's won over Alfred. Its over."

Tim nodded, phone still facing the scene below as he whispered, "We might as well start
preparing for the wedding of those two teens then. I think in Alfred's eyes, that Stark is
already family"

When Brooklyn offered to help Alfred cook and the man burst into a pleased smile, they
knew it was all over. If any Wayne ever laid a hand on Brooklyn Stark, they would meet an
end so cruel the devil would weep.

Dick would rather fight the Joker, Scarecrow, Riddler, and Mr. freeze all at once rather than
upset Alfred.

What made it even worse was that Titus and perhaps even Damian seemed to be on her side,
family drama be damned.

The next conversation before they disappeared into the kitchen only solidified the thought
that the Stark was practically untouchable, and in Dick's eyes, worthy of being around his
youngest brother.

"I apologize for coming home so late, I had to help Mistress Barbara to the Bat Cave" Alfred
said, throwing a bone from his grocery bag to a barking Titus in the process.

The Stark stopped on her tracks then, looking to Damian who only gave her a small nod,
some conversation happening between them without the need for words.
"Forgive me for being so rude Alfred, but thats Damian's sister right? The one the Joker hurt
recently?" she asked.

Dick, Tim, Starfire, and the two below couldn't help the fallen expressions their faces took at
the mention of poor Barbara.

She'd been dealing with it like a champ as she always did when things go hard, but even Dick
could tell she was frustrated at times, wanting to go back out there and help them all with the
mission at hand, especially if it involved the Joker.

Alfred nodded sadly, "Her bottom half was paralyzed as a result"

Brooklyn looked to Damian then, eyes wide as she moved to stand by his side, and the hand
that was not holding up five grocery bags went to grab the phone discarded on the table
beside little D.

"Damian mentioned she was hurt, but not to that extent" the Stark said, then moved to show a
photo to both Alfred and Damian.

"I'm sure your family has met my uncle Rodey, he got hurt a few years back, paralyzed from
the waist down as well" she said, smiling slightly when she added, "My dad made his this
brace that allows him to walk with little to no trouble. I recently helped him modify it so that
things like sitting or running would go smoother"

Dick realized he had seen the brace the War Machine wore, but it had been very subtle,
something Jason thought had been more of a fashion statement.

"I've convinced my dad to start a production for these at Stark industries for those suffering
from similar injuries" the Stark said, "But I could easily make one for her now that I know all
the components that go into it. Not that you could ever let anyone know I helped a Wayne,
but it would at least help her walk around on her own and maybe after more modifications,
even run or fight"

Everyone was struck still, not just with shock, but hope of a better future for Barbara. Dick
realized he would be willing to beg, even to a Stark, to make that happen. There wasn't
anything any Wayne living in that mansion wouldn't do to see Barbara walking again.

"You'd do that?" Damian asked.

Brooklyn Stark shrugged, "You already saw I was working on a better model back at Stark
Industries. I could just make some adjustment and give it to you. Dad has no clue I'm
working on one so there would be no real harm done"

Alfred seemed close to tears then, moving to embrace the girl if it weren't for the bags she
carried. Instead, Alfred gave her a simple bow, offering to do anything in his power to help
her get the device here discretely should she wish it.

Thats when Dick finally realized all his predetermined expectations or guesses on what the
Stark must've been like were all wrong. He wanted to hug the young teen, sob on her
shoulder and thank her not just for saving Barbara from the sadness she tried to hide for so
long, but because she made Damian change in a way Dick had never thought possible.

Before following Alfred back into the kitchen, Damian placed an arm on her shoulder,
holding her back as he said just loud enough for them to hear, "Why would you help
Barbara? She's a Wayne"

The girl merely smirked.

"You're my friend Damian. She is your family" Brooklyn said, "Of course I'll help then. I've
told you many times already that family is power. I'd do whatever it takes to help, even when
she is a Wayne"

He'd probably heard wrong, but a Stark just called a Wayne friend. But hes ponder on that
later...because this was bigger than anything else at the moment.

Dick wasn't expecting a grad thanks from Damian, he just wasn't the kind to do that sort of
stuff, almost as if he were allergic to the simple words of gratitude.

But Dick also wasn't expecting Damian to say, "Much appreciated... my beloved"

Beside them Tim muttered, "The adolescent teens are....ah to hell with that. I hope everyone
is seeing this, otherwise I might be hallucinating from lack of coffee. In which case someone
get a doctor"

It was no hallucination, nor was the black iron-man like suit that walked into the living room
by Alfred's side. From within the suit, a robotic female voice with a peculiar accent said,
"Agent Claire has left her apartment. Alarm to return home has been activated Miss Stark"

With a groan of annoyance from the girl, the suit opened up to let her inside.

"Thanks GIL. Guess I'll have to take that rain check on learning how to cook from the master.
Too bad, i was gonna impress grandpa Steve with a dish this weekend" Brooklyn said,
waiting until Alfred left to get her sweater to turn back to Damian.

Dick felt like he was watching a rom-com as he impatiently wanted to see what those two
would do.

The suspense was killing him!

The red-haired girl beamed up at Damian while they gathered her things. Once her backpack
was full, she said "Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow for show time my Julian Capulet"

Damian rolled his eyes but walked the girl to her waiting suit with arms behind his back.

"I'll wait for our customary night call then, especially since your father wanted to talk to you"

Wait....

HOLY!!!!
Dick began to slap Tim's arm furiously, trying to muffle his screams as he realized that night
everyone had stayed behind after the meeting with the Avengers, when Dick thought he'd
heard a female voice from Damian's room but shrugged it off as exhaustion...that had been
the Stark!!!!!

Seeming to realize the same thing, Kori pulled on her bright red hair, glowing eyes wide open
as she slapped Dick's own arm. Once they both came down from their shock enough to share
the news with Tim and his phone, the three of them were fighting every cell in their bodies
not to scream.

Alfred, unaware of what had occurred merely handed over her sweater and gave her a hug
before retreating to the kitchen with a promise to drop off some baked goods for her
tomorrow at school.

Dick didn't get that anymore since he graduated from middle school!!!!!

Shit, there was a new favorite kid now!

Once the suit closed, a female robotic voice of the Stark said, "Its probably just to share some
music or something. But I'll let you know if its anything serious or useful, or if my dad found
out about any of my secrets and I die. Though I'm curious since we are friends and all, would
you miss me if I died?"

"Its amusing you think death will get you out of this...this friendship" Damian replied. After a
laugh from the Stark, the two parted ways with a wave on her part, and a nod from little D.

As she left out the open window and Damian and Titus made the way to the kitchen..the
adults must've sat there, sagging against the floor for a few hours. They only got up when a
shadow obscured the sun from the nearby window as Bruce Wayne leaned down to say,
"What are you three doing here...laying on the floor?"

Dick was the first to scramble up, helping his wife as Tim hid his phone inside the pocket of
his wrinkled suit jacket.

"Oh! B! You're back!" Dick said, trying not to sound as if he'd just been spying on his
youngest sibling when he added, "Welcome home!"

Tim didn't bother with greetings, he just mentioned something about being tired before
leaving, only waving his phone up in the air to Dick once he made it to the hall where Bruce
could no longer see him.

Used to their weird shenanigans, Bruce had left with a raised brow, not even questioning the
clear excitement of Tim and Dick as they ushered the confused mass of, Barbara, Jason, Cass,
and Steph into Dick's room where Starfire was already waiting once everyone returned from
their patrols.

One smirk from Tim to Jason, and no one had fought as they were shoved inside the locked
room impatiently.
Damian had given them an odd look in the hallway, and Dick almost rushed over to hug his
brother and praise him for growing up so quickly...but this... the others needed to know.

As good brothers do, the two told their siblings everything, waiting until they all burst out
laughing and called bullshit to play the footage on the TV propped on the wall with smug
satisfaction.

Dick was almost certain Steph had a heart attack at some point, Jason could've fainted, and
though Cass was usually the quiet one, even her silence seemed different today as they went
thought the whole thing until the moon rose to the night sky.

It was Jason who spoke up from the silence that followed, only able to say, "Well, shit. I think
I just died again"

No one could disagree.

But it was to Barbara they all turned in the end, because those last bits of the recorded
footage about her possible brace made everyone smile and almost cry, but they were weary of
what Babs would think of it all.

Thankfully she was not angry or refusing help from a Stark. She looked genuinely happy, the
first true smile since she woke up from that coma.

So, as good siblings who mostly cared about Damian's well being...they got to planning
because as Dick had announced earlier, 'he didn't care how forbidden a Stark and a Wayne
was, he absolutely loved it' while doing the splits on the floor.

No one but Jason had argued, but even he had been quickly persuaded by the reminder of the
images on screen and the happiness of Barbara, though Dick thought the many life debts they
owed the Stark by now had more sway.

Instead or arguing as they often did, they had put their exhausted brains together to find ways
to get their emotionally stunned brother to figure out he clearly had a thing for the Stark.
They knew Damian would be stubborn, that he would deny any and all emotions for the sake
of his image.

They didn't even know if the Stark had a boyfriend, or if she had feelings for someone else,
but the girls had all sworn on their female knowledge that there was clearly something there
in the young girl. That perhaps she too would be difficult when it came to emotions,
considering she was also from an assassin background, or at least that was Cass' cold
prediction.

But here was something there that even a blind man could see...and to those who loved
Damian, they saw it as a spark of hope.

Of course they also spent a large amount of time excitedly screeching at everything that had
occurred, having mental breakdowns, questioning life and reality, even arguing to go make
sure that was actually Damian asleep two floors up rather than an imposter.
 But they all agreed they hadn't been very useful for the past six years to help Damian come
out of his shell the way the Stark had managed in mere weeks. They had not been able to
save the League assassin as older siblings should, but maybe they could assist Brooklyn and
Damian helping each other?

By the end of the night, Dick was almost certain Steph and Starfire were already planning a
wedding scrapbook, but what mattered most of all was that Barbara was smiling and
laughing.

Jason and Cass were not really the romantic type, but at least Jason was fueled by the fact
that little D being with a Stark might just give their dad a heart attack.

Cass was still protective of Damian, that was her nature and once her life's devotion. But
Dick could've sworn she seemed at least slightly relieved to know Damian was not alone in
his head anymore.

Who knew a simple Stark, an enemy to their home and name, could quite literally change
everything?

Chapter End Notes

Up next will be the school play!!! Then some very interesting things....

Hope you enjoy this so far!

 Romea and Julian
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Being picked up by Damian Wayne was shocking, but not the first time it had occurred in
recent days.

Since Alfred became more and more preoccupied at the mansion, Damian often drove
himself and Jon to school despite the safety concerns concerning the Joker.

Much to Happy's anger, the Wayne took to picking up Brooklyn and Peter by surprise
sometimes, but after a week or two of this happening, the man just sent the two teens an
angry text and took Agent Claire to school instead of throwing a fit or honking at the sports
car the whole ride.

Unlike the first time Damian had driven them to school, the rest had not involved the jeep.

Every time Damian came, it was with his black sports car which barely had enough space for
the four of them. When Brook had asked why he preferred to use this car, he'd merely said,
"The jeep is not for Parker or Jon to enjoy, Roscoe is ours"

Brook always felt some form of confusion when she thought of that wording, but neither her
or Damian really knew what that meant, so they let it go.

Though Tony and Mr. Wayne were still oblivious to these ride shares, the excuse for Happy
and Alfred was that they needed to make it to school together for school business. The two
only agreed because it was much safer to have two assassins, a half-kryptonian, and a super
human in one car.

In a addition, Happy thought being in a car with a Wayne would make Brook miserable, so he
allowed it without much thought. Agent Johansen on the other hand, she had made sure
Happy trailed the sports car closely just in case someone decided to attack.

Either way, neither Brook's dad nor Mr. Wayne were informed of this little arrangement by
Alfred or Happy, as Brooklyn suspected, being for both their sakes.

Though Damian and Brook had agreed to be secret friends, putting their rivalry aside for
good, Jon and Peter were still unaware of that fact, along with the whole school and the
world beyond.

Jon seemed much too surprised when Damian agreed to pick up the team when he'd asked,
but had no idea friendship was involved.

There was a sense of ease seeing Damian in the mornings now, even if their acting was good
and made everyone believe anger still ruled their interactions, it was good to know he was
safe.

Brooklyn hadn't told anyone but the Wayne, but she was starting to dream of Ivan more and
more each night. Often times, it wasn't just Brooklyn dying by his hand, sometimes it was her
family, friends, but mostly Damian dying under Ivan's dagger.

Damian had promised to fight for her, and she often feared that would get him killed. Her
only consolation was Yelena's good progress back at the compound. She was moving past her
Red Room ways every day, now even training to become a SHIELD agent, texting Brook
from time to time thanks to Nat's cell.

Sometimes, it seemed that Yelena might even be subtly thanking Brooklyn for the
opportunity for a new life...but maybe the Stark was just seeing things.

Brooklyn knew that if a fight with Ivan ever came to happen, Natasha would fight by her
side, maybe even Yelena now that she was learning of the beauty of the world each day.

But Damian would fight as well, he promised her that every time Ivan plagued her dreams.

He'd accept her walkie-talkie hails no matter the hour, and his unintentional dry humor often
sent Brook to bed with a smile on her face.

Maybe Brooklyn was just fixating on that today because she was nervous. Something that did
not happen quite often.

Today wasn't any ordinary day. It was the day of the dreaded literature play.

After weeks worth of preparation, everything had been set up as best as possible, and
everyone in the car was nervous for their own performance. Well, Jon actually seemed to be
slightly elated, but that was natural in his case. They could all be fighting the world's worst
criminals and Jon would probably do it with a smile on his face.

Brooklyn on the other hand, felt like she was about to run a marathon.

Though they had rehearsed their lines over and over, Brook still felt like she wasn't ready for
this. Even when the play would just be in front of the teachers, the Stark felt like it was too
much attention.

Her only solace was that Brook was no longer acting with a nemesis, but a friend.

Their friendship was still very much into its 'trial period' where neither of them could figure
out how it worked completely. Much of how they were now as friends was as they had been
as enemies those few weeks before they made the commitment.

It was strange, but also relaxing to know that at least between them, they were in this
together.

So as Harry rushed to them (after being dropped off by his father, who really seemed to be
trying to be a better man), Damian and Jon went their separate ways per usual. Tanya and
Ned had clutched Brook tight not long after, sharing their excitement about the play as Agent
Claire met up with her friends nearby.

Brooklyn knew the woman was aware of the play, but it appeared that things out of
Brooklyn's safety did not matter in the least. A small relief. Brook did not want the SHIELD
department to go off gossiping about her life anyways.

When the bell finally rang, Ned, MJ, and Tanya seemed to almost drag Brook to the
auditorium, which is when the Stark caught Flash saying something about betting around four
hundred dollars that the play with the Wayne-Stark rivalry would earn them a bad grade.

That made it all the easier to walk inside, get into her black dress, strap on the fake sword to
her hip, and walk to the entrance of the stage which was being organized with props and
lighting. Everyone was buzzing with excitement, showing off their own costumes or
practicing the waltz Brook and Damian had tried to teach to them these past few days.

"You're supposed to hold on to your partner's arm" Brooklyn instructed, motioning the
position with Damian as her partner, both of them standing in the middle of the stage.

Everyone, staring before their assigned partners, copied the gesture, though some guys
claimed to have trouble figuring out the steps shortly after.

They looked to Brook with pleading eyes, as if they wanted Brooklyn to go over to them and
teach them the dance step by step. The Stark knew better than to think that was all innocent
concern for their performance, Tanya had made sure to tell her those boys' true intentions.

They just wanted to dance with the 'great and mighty Brooklyn Stark' for nothing more than
bragging rights. For whatever teenage hormonal reasoning, the thought that Brook would
place her arms around their body was apparently a very appealing thought boys often
fantasized about in the halls.

Luckily for Brook, she did not have to ignore their pleas for long since Damian was also an
'instructor'.

He strode over to the whining boys, who now looked around in fear as if they thought of
fleeing the stage. Before they could hurry to fix their stances, Damian strode over to them
with a wooden stick that had been left on the stage from the prop making.

Without a second thought, the Wayne brought that stick down onto the boys' back, arms, and
chins, fixing their posture with cold quiet and a judging glare.

None of them complained for the rest of the class period.

When Damian had made his way back to Brook so they could show their classmates how to
do the next few steps, she whispered in his ear, "You don't have to do that every time they say
stupid things"

The Wayne, still keeping a scrutinizing eye out for flaws out in the crowd, whispered back
just low enough for her to hear, "It is a duty of friendship to guard your honor from those
filthy idiots, my beloved"

Following the square steps, Brooklyn tried her hardest to keep that stone cold expression on
her face instead of laughing. Who knew Damian would make it so difficult to act like she
hated him?

After shouting further instructions on how to dip your partner, Brooklyn was pulled back
close to Damian's chest, from which proximity she could whisper above the music, "Then
when Matilda and Beatrice decide to send you puppy eyes in about three seconds, I'll make
sure to send them away as always. Just without the stick"

Damian rolled his eyes, "Its an effective stick"

He had not meant that in a rude or cruel way, but his insistence in humiliating those boys had
been amusing lately, even when they class was nowhere close to being able to dance in
tandem.

The memories of all those practice days, each seeming quite similar to the last brought a
smile to Brooks face, however small.

All Brooklyn was focusing on now was the person on the other entrance to the stage, all the
way on the opposite side of the chaos. Between people running by or props being hauled into
place, Brook caught sight of the demon, her demon, staring right back at her with script
loosely in hand.

This was their first time seeing their costumes, and Brooklyn had expected to laugh at the
sight of Damian in pastel colors, friend or not. But...darn it, he actually made it work.

The sewing club had really thrived for that challenge, creating an orange and cream colored
suit that looked very elegant, definitely something high society would've worn. It certainly
showed off his built body those sewing students must still be scratching their heads about.

Even from a distance, Brook could admire the way said colors made Damian's raven hair
stand out against his olive skin, green eyes brighter somehow.

Brook wondered if the black dress she wore looked nearly as decent, if the half up-half down
arrangement of her red hair looked stupid, or if the small golden diadem was too much.

The sewing club had chosen a style of clothing somewhere between the old fashioned
Shakespearean looks and the modern movie depictions of the Leonardo DiCaprio film. The
students were like a rainbow of colors in their dresses and tunics, but Brooklyn definitely
stood out in all black. In her personal opinion, they all looked odd, but not as ridiculous as
she had imagined.

Midtown High certainly did not do things poorly no matter how small they seemed to be.

Not that all her worries mattered now as the lights dimmed to a dark stage, the footsteps of
MJ (the friar) resonated before the as she set out to do her introduction.
Despite the darkness, Brooklyn could still see Damian and the people clamoring behind him
get a good look. When he raised his dark brow, Brook merely retuned the gesture. They had
both sworn to rock the socks off everyone who'd doubted them, and so they would today in
the span of a thirty or so minute play.

With a simple nod back to her secret friend, Brooklyn got ready for her entrance, not letting a
single doubt in mind as she felt Tanya and Ned lean beside her to cheer MJ on.

This would be the only time Brook and Damian could act pleasant with one another in front
of other eyes, but she only hoped her depiction of love towards him was enough to pass off as
the love between the characters.

But she knew....when it came to working together, she and Dami could do anything to
perfection.

******

Tony Stark POV-

Tony Stark was a go-with-the-flow type of person. Always had been.

He'd originally planned to spend his free day surprising Pepper at the company, maybe even
take his new son to a baseball game or something like that to boost their father-son bonding.

But Harley was in the process of looking into schools in New York, deciding where he
wanted to attend. For a young kid, he was awfully smart and clever, but also responsible in a
way Tony hadn't been as a child.

So, given that Pepper would be busy today trying to fix the planning he and Brucy hadn't
been able to get done a few days ago, Tony thought he might just relax and watch movie.
Everyone was away sleeping off the last few days of work that had come with a tip on the
weapons.

Perhaps Tony should be doing the same, god knew he needed it, but he'd never been the type
to sleep on a perfectly good day. So, as the billionaire beheld the selections of movies on TV,
the man couldn't help but think of the kid that had bought them all.

It HAD been a while since Tony had been able to speak with Peter calmly, so the man
decided to give the kid a call just before he and Brook had to leave for school. Not
surprisingly, Peter answered on the second ring, frantically asking if something was wrong.

After reassuring the kid all was fine, Tony simply asked how he was today, curious what little
Peter had in store in his simple teenage school day.

Peter seemed to be frantically stuffing things into his backpack as he replied sleepily, "Not
much Mr. Stark. Today is actually a calm day because of the play. The teachers didn't want to
overwhelm us with work"

Play? Now that was interesting.

"What kind of play? For what class?" Tony had asked, bag of peanuts before him as the
sounds of The Office from the TV filled the large room.

Peter yawned, "Its Romeo and Juliet for literature class, but I'm....I'm nervous"

Nervous? That kid had fought criminals and villains with ease! But Underoos was also
incredibly shy, a good kid, but someone who needed to get used to a spotlight without a mask
on.

After telling Tony that he'd be playing the main role of Romeo, Tony fought the urge to laugh
in excitement. He'd give anything to see that!

Then a thought occurred to him....

"Does that mean Brooklyn is also in the play? What role is she playing?" he asked, not at all
surprised his daughter would think to leave out the oncoming play from their recent
conversations. She probably thought it was silly and stupid.

A sudden image of Brooklyn playing Juliet with Peter made him sit up in alarm.

Could that be?

If Tony was being honest, he hated thinking about his daughter being romantically involved
with anyone because...well no one was good enough. But deep down, Tony knew that the
only person he would ever find even slightly worthy of his little girl (even when she was a
fearless ex-assassin ) was none other than shy Peter Parker who couldn't possibly have any ill
intentions at heart.

The Stark knew the kid well, saw the raw kindness and goodness in his heart. Peter was
capable of protecting his little girl, even when she insisted on not needed such protection. But
Tony often saw them in training, goofing off and such.

Brook smiled around Peter, freely called him her best friend.

If anyone was gonna be with his daughter, Tony couldn't help but sight in relief that it could
be Peter. He already considered Underoos like a son anyways. But if those two ever actually
dated...well things might be different then, he might make sure Parker knew not to cross any
lines then.

Still, the thought of both of the Avenger younglings in a play together about tragic love, now
that would be better than anything currently on TV.

Unfortunately, the universe had it out for Tony, of that he was now sure.

That image of two innocent kids playing pretend, one embarrassed and the other shy, was
shattered completely like glass in seconds.

As sleepily as before, Peter mumbled something about Brook not being in his English class,
that he would be playing the lead role with some girl named Cindy.
No...Tony's little girl WOULD be playing a lead role, just in another class.

Was it odd that she would be playing a female version of Romeo? Yes, that had been a little
amusing, only disappearing like an afterthought when Peter mumbled that next sentence
sleepily.

"She's playing Romeo and Damian is playing Juliet for their class. Their play will be more
fun though, they have dancing and a personalized script. Ned even said that rehearsals had
been surreal lately, he's excited to see Brooklyn act"

That quickly, Tony tried to calm down as he bid the spiderling good luck and quickly hung up
the call. Not a second later, Tony sprinted off the couch angrily, the worry for his daughter
heightening by the second.

Tony ignored the odd looks Nat, Sam, and Steven gave him as he ran by them towards the
open window down the hall while turning on the metal cuffs on his wrists. Without a second
to waste, the man jumped out the window, his suit cradling him from the fall, then taking off
at high speeds towards Midtown High.

The whole time Tony couldn't help but curse, scream, and worry his sweet child would have
to be so close to a Wayne unwillingly. No wonder she hadn't said a thing, she must be so
angry and perhaps too embarrassed to ask for help with something like this, especially when
Tony had been so busy out on missions lately.

Suddenly he worried if a simple high school play would allow hand holding, hugging, or...
kissing. That single thought only made Tony speed faster to put a stop to it all...to save his
kid.

***

Bruce Wayne POV-

Back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne was sleepily chugging down his morning coffee, watching as
his pregnant wife made her way back to the bedroom to change for their planned walk in the
park.

If it weren't for the stress of the Joker and the weapons, Bruce was sure the stress and anxiety
of becoming the father of a newborn would've crushed him already. But today was not for
hunting down a clown, it was to spend the day with Selina, to be with family.

They all had an elegant dinner last night as a family, with Dick coming all the way from
Bludhaven with his wife for the event celebrating the two month pregnancy milestone. It had
surprisingly gone well, meaning no one had died, fought, or ruined Alfred's meal. Jason had
kept the snarky comments to a minimum, and Tim had not fallen asleep atop his food once.

Even Damian had behaved himself, albeit by sitting quietly with his pets the whole time.

Though the night had been long, it had been one of the few successful Wayne dinners to date.
Had Bruce not been so exhausted, he might've thought to pat himself on the back for the
accomplishment.

His silent peace was only disturbed when Dick practically danced into the living room,
twirling Alfred around happily and then placing a kiss atop Tim's head, who was passed out
on the counter, even with the smell of coffee wafting the large kitchen.

When Dick sauntered over to the fridge and chose something healthy to eat for once, Bruce
had to do a sleepy double take. Sure, his children had been acting weird lately, but he'd
shrugged it off to exhaustion and the stress of their current mission.

But this was different, what could have his eldest son in such high spirits?

As his son somersaulted over to an empty chair with food in hand, Bruce dared to ask, "Why
are you so happy today? I thought with your wife away on a mission you'd be upset?"

Dick had always been a happy and energetic child, something that had barely dimmed
throughout the years, but he always seemed to hold a puppy-like sadness when he was away
from Starfire for too long. She'd left late last night, Dick should be mopping by now.

Could it be that he had good news? Were they expecting a child as well?

Dick merely clapped a passed out Tim in the back and excitedly replied, "Today, Shakespeare
is in the air! I've been waiting all week for this!!!!!"

Ok, maybe Bruce wasn't always the most attentive of parents, but Dick held no care for
someone like Shakespeare, there was no way.

Hand moving to manage hid rising headache, Bruce grumbled, "What is today then?"

Had Bruce missed a birthday? Anniversary? New movie coming out?

The only person that ever gave the man a straight answer was Damian, but he had just left for
school with Jon. He'd have to fish the answer out of Dick all on his own then...

The eldest of his kids stared out into the back yard with a smirk, sleepily saluting the animal
shrubbery with his carton of milk while saying, "Today is a day that will do down in history
as perhaps the third greatest day of my life!" Then he turned to face Bruce, eyes alight with
excitement as Dick added, "Oh! Is the baby bird still here? I wanna give him some pointers,
or maybe I shouldn't scare him off like that?"

Damian? This had something to do with Damian?

Had Bruce's youngest gotten in trouble again? Had someone been injured, killed, threatened?
Bruce's growing headache did not help him process nearly fast enough that Dick seemed to
be happy about this matter involving Damian.

Was there some award ceremony today Bruce had forgotten about? Should he quickly go
change into a fancier suit?
As if speaking to a hyper child loaded with sugar, Bruce decided to use his patience to better
draw out the thoughts from Dick's head by saying, "Damian just left for school. Is everything
alright with him?"

Dick's blue eyes shone with mirth.

"If he plays his cards right, then yes" the Wayne's son said simply, then beamed at the stack
of pancakes Alfred dropped off before him.

It was Alfred who shook his head, turning to Bruce while saying as if reading his mind, "You
have not missed an important even Master Wayne. Master Damian merely has an important
class assignment to do today"

Oh. Very well.

Bruce tried not to seem to relieved as he dove into his coffee.

In all honesty, the man was shocked Damian had decided to stay at Midtown after his mission
with the Stark was over. Maybe it was actually proving to be an academic challenge, enough
so for the teen to confide in Alfred and Dick about an assignment.

The Wayne might've thought nothing further of the situation had Stephanie and Jason not
come bursting into the door, clad in their pjs and out of sight of Bruce as they moved to sit
beside Dick with smirks of their own.

"Today is the day boys!" Steph said excitedly as she ruffled her blonde locks, "Today our
sweet and terrifying brother gets to embrace his inner Juliet at last!"

Bruce stopped mid sip, dark brows raised high as he tried to process those words correctly.
His kids loved speaking in memes and vines just to confuse him. This could simply be one of
those instances, but his fatherly instincts were practically buzzing with warning.

When that happened, either Tim had passed out from lack of sleep, Jason was close to killing
someone, Barbara was on the verge of a TV show meltdown, Tim and Stephanie had decided
to go on a date somewhere forbidden, or Damian had someone at knife point.

None of those instances bode well.

Thankfully, his trouble-less child came into the kitchen then. Cassandra was not sluggish in
her movements like her siblings. She was dressed for training, eyes awake and alert as
always. He almost sighed in relief as she sat beside him.

"What is this talk about Juliet and Damian?" he asked Cass, only for her to shake her head
and dive into her cereal. Even SHE seemed to have a small smile on her face today.

Bruce was almost fed up with the weirdness of the morning, thinking about just shouting out
for an answer when Jason said proudly, "I think we should go take a look, its not ever day we
get to see what Damian looks like on a crappy high school theatre stage"

Stage. Juliet. Shakespeare....there was absolutely no way that was true.

His youngest son, the one who despised every living being, who found school to be useless,
was in a school play? As Juliet?

The image of Bruce's stoic and angry son in a dress was almost enough for the man to burst
out of the stool he sat on. Perhaps he was still back upstairs asleep with Selina by his side.
That had to be it.

Tim's sleepy words were a relief that his son was not dead after all, succumbed to coffee
poisoning, and an immediate burst of shock and anger as he said, "Leave Brooklyn Stark and
Damian to do their little play in peace. If any of us show up and get caught, Titus will kill us,
and I have an important meeting tomorrow I simply can't miss"

Stark. Stark.

Damian and Brooklyn....

No.

NO!

If such a thing was real, Damian would've been the first person to try and put a stop to it
without caring about school consequences. Bruce was certain there was no way his son
would agree to be so close to a Stark...that just wasn't possible.

"What do you know about all this?" Bruce asked the table, voice echoing across the large
kitchen and effectively brining a wave of silence to the room.

Bruce saw the moment his children's eyes went wide with guilt, even Tim had woken up
enough to try and leave the room. But Bruce was done playing guess what, especially with
something that concerned the safety of his youngest son.

Sheepishly, Dick said, "Relax B, its just this little school project Damian has to do. Its not a
huge deal really, If anything, you should be happy right? The Stark is playing Romeo, and he
dies in the story"

With clenched teeth at the image, the man replied, "So does Juliet and they are supposed to
be in love"

Just thinking of his son so close to that Stark, the carbon copy her annoying father, the
teenage girl who had spoken back to Bruce without an ounce of fear...the assassin. Perhaps it
was the constant adrenaline that came with having an unborn child, but Bruce didn't think
twice as he leapt up from his seat and quickly made up his mind to drive down to Midtown to
put a stop to this nonsense once and for all.

Bruce heard Alfred's reprimands to get back to the table, the whines from his children to
leave it be, but he ignored them all as he rushed to the garage, picked out whatever car was
closest while frowning at the old jeep that was still in there for some reason, then rushed out
the mansion without looking back.
As he sped down the streets, no cop dared to pull him over, not when Bruce funded the police
force. All the man could really focus on was the need for an answer to this mystery.

Had the Stark blackmailed Damian to participate?

Bruce had been far too focused on the company and the missions to keep an eye on Damian
for a while, and now the Wayne was worried something terrible had happened in his
negligence. Damian was ruthless, cold, and aggressive when he wanted to be, but Bruce had
never considered what it would be like for Damian to be around an assassin his age, one that
could likely match his strength.

The thought only made Bruce swirve around traffic faster, hands clutching the steering wheel
in a death grip as he frantically willed the edge of the city to appear. Bruce did not answer a
single call from anyone during the whole ride, he was too worried about not making it to
school on time.

Once at the steps of the institution, Bruce had no clue what to do. He had no idea if he'd come
to fight someone, reprimand or save his son. All he knew is that there were posters all over
the establishment talking about the Junior Literature Play of Romeo and Juliet.

There were a few though that had a different title, Romea and Julian. It finally gave him some
direction as he realized the play had already started and was held in the large auditorium on
the west side of the school.

It was a miracle the halls were already empty so no one would question his presence. Just to
be on the safe side, Bruce found the side entrances to the building, just beside the stage.

Bruce could hear the noise coming from inside, the soft voices speaking dialogue, and the
sound of music beginning to arise.

So he quietly made his way inside, and from the darkness by the door, Bruce found a clear
view of the stage where his son...was that even his son?...was surrounded by bright lights,
green eyes behind a white mask scanning the crowd of moving students frantically.

(On the other side of the room, on the other side entrance to the auditorium, Tony Stark was
equally basked in darkness, unaware of the Wayne hidden in the shadows as he beheld his
daughter up on stage. Even wearing a raven colored mask, he could recognize that bright red
hair anywhere. She was clad in a black dress which flowed behind her as she moved around
the crowd of students frantically)

Bruce and Tony POV-

The otherwise merry tunes that had been playing earlier turned into something gentler, and
the lights around the room went from being an array of colors to turning into a soft hue of
blue across the stage.

When the young Stark and Wayne finally locked eyes amidst the crowd, they...they smiled.
Bruce could quite believe his eyes, his son had never smiled a day in his life, at least not like
that. Tony was also shocked in his own right, not just at the fact that his daughter had greed to
do this play in the first place, but because she was going as far as to smile to a Wayne to
succeed.

The adults watched as Damian was led away from Brooklyn by a girl who they were able to
hear thanks to the mics hidden in their clothes. She was telling Damian that a woman was
here, named Paris, whom if Tony remembered properly from his schooling days was
supposed to be the kinsman of the prince of Verona.

When Damian and the girl dressed in lively purple were ushered to dance, it was clear
Damian was fighting to keep his distance, keeping a scowl at bay as her fingers locked
around his arms.

Bruce knew his son hated to be touched, and realized the only thing keeping Damian from
bolting out of those feminine arms was his constant looking around the dancing crowd to a
gentle waltz.

The exchange of lines from both Damian and the girl was only paused by a twirling of
partners away from one another, in which case Brooklyn snuck through the dancing crowds,
pulling Damian way from 'Paris' and onto her own locked embrace for dancing.

Even as a student pretending to be Tybalt recognized the female Montague intruder in the
crowd, nothing was nearby to stop as Damian and Brook locked hands, eyes curious and
brows high in question as to who the other masked person was.

Another student of 'Damian's family' urged for peace, which was the only reason why Brook
and Damian are able to slowly join the dance around them undisturbed after all.

Damian no longer looked uncomfortable, both adults noted, he seemed right at home in
Brooklyn's arms as both took perfect steps in sync.

Both Bruce and Tony couldn't help but think of the time they saw their children dancing at
the gala all those months ago. The way those two seemed to move as if with a lifetime of
practice, an ease that came so easily along with it.

Damian didn't look like he was about to rip the Stark's hands off his body, and Brooklyn
seemed content to lean on the Wayne with a smile instead of demanding her space. From
their positions, the CEOs could hear the faint voices of the students behind the curtains on the
entrances to the stage, seemingly in awe as they beheld the pair now lit up by an angelic
spotlight.

Both teens spoke in metaphors of saints and pilgrims until they were close enough to be chest
to chest. To the adults, it was as if all other students were not there as they watched in horror,
wondering if their kids would do good on their dialog and kiss.

Only, a student intervened, pulling Damian from the dance as the young Wayne's eyes went
from dazed to panicked. The girl rambled about 'Julian's mother needing him', so the Wayne
had to reluctantly move through the crowd, his eyes not once leaving Brooklyn's as they got
further and further away.

"Who is his mother?" Brooklyn asked the girl, eyes panicked. Despite the dancing couples
around them, Brooklyn looked as if she might fall when the student replied softly, "Capulet.
His mother is Lady Capulet"

Tony was still recuperating from the near heart attack from possibly seeing his little girl kiss
an awful Wayne, but he noted the way her expressions perfectly portrayed the grief and
longing Romeo would have upon realizing that was a person she could not have.

As a parent who wanted his daughter to have it all, to bask in happiness to make up for her
horrors of Brooklyn's early life, Tony couldn't help but feel a clench of his heart at the sight,
even when it was all just acting.

Bruce Wayne on the other hand, was astonished by his son's acting moments later, when the
'nurse' pointed out the woman 'Julian' had been dancing with was a Montague. His son's face
was full sorrow upon realizing that was a woman from an enemy family.

But Bruce was still too caught up on the dancing from earlier, remembering the video of the
gala he'd watched with his family and the Justice League not too long ago.

This dancing had been much different, even when both teens had been trying to act formally
then as well. Damian was not disgusted in the least. Neither teen looked like they wanted to
murder one another, and in the lights of the stage, it had seemed as if both teens had gone
completely docile.

Both parents would agree that they were beyond horrified at the sight before them, but the
last of their restraint did not leave them until a cardboard balcony was set up, as the dancing
crowds retreated back into the hidden sides of the stage as a star filled backdrop fell into
place to create the illusion of a dark night.

Some poorly drawn carton bushes were set up at the bottom of said balcony, and Damian
Wayne made his way up some hidden steps to stand at the top, lamenting the identity of the
girl he claimed to have fallen for at first sight.

Bruce had to physically hold on to the door handle as the Stark appeared before the balcony,
listening to Damian's surprisingly well executed lament with a frown of her own.

There was something about Brooklyn whispering, "Speak again bright angel" when referring
to a Wayne that sent Tony's panic ablaze.

Up on that balcony, Damian turned to the stars, leaning on his hand as he said with equal
gentleness, "Oh, Romea, wherefore art thou Romea" Damian said, almost making Bruce
relent back a few steps in shock.

In fact, Tony wasn't sure he was breathing as the two teens continued their lines, the sounds
of chirping birds, running water, and a gentle song still playing being the only things Tony
could focus on that did not make him feel like ripping his skin off.
That was until both the Wayne and Stark realized the prop vines by the balcony were for
climbing as the red-headed Stark used them expertly even with the hindering folds and
tresses of her dress.

When both teens leaned close to each other then to seal their love proclamations, and neither
parent saw a single student coming to intervene, neither thought of the consequences as they
rushed to the stage in sync.

When the two confused students made their way down from the stage prop, cheeks flushed
and eyes wide, Tony didn't think twice before grabbing Brooklyn by the waist and hosting her
up on his shoulder as he carried her out of the auditorium.

Bruce didn't even have time to be surprised by Anthony's presence as he took hold of Damian
by the collar of his tunic, raising the kicking teen off the ground with a single hand and taking
him off the stage moving towards the door HE had come through.

The lights on stage came on as soon as both parents were almost out their respective doors,
each adult stopped by a teacher. Upon realizing neither could leave without hurting a civilian,
the adults tuned on each other, meeting in the middle of the room to yell accusations and
shifting blame for that disgusting sight of the play between one another.

Their children had to pull them back from throwing punches, even as the students had all
come out cheering for a fight to start.

Neither adult could exactly pinpoint how they had been ushered to the principals office, but
what they did know is that their children were forced to stay behind in the auditorium to
finish the play.

So all they could do was sit there in that office, listening to the principal rant about
irresponsible behavior, and vaguely meeting one another's eyes to find the same horror in
their expressions.

Their children had been far to close for their liking, even if it was just for a school grade.
Neither wanted to see their flesh and blood so close again. So after accepting the ban from
school grounds (unless for an emergency or graduation), the two were also scolded like
children and given an additional punishment for interrupting their children's academic day.

"You two have no idea how much of a miracle it was to get Damian and Brooklyn to work
together in something, then you come and try and solve it with violence! For that you two
will be given the same punishment your children once served and thankfully learned from"

No! Both adults thought.

Sure enough, when Pepper came to pick up Tony with a frown on her face, he knew going to
a pre-school with Brucy was the least of his worries now. Bruce felt something akin to fear
once he beheld the car next to Ms. Potts', where Alfred and his wife were standing there,
arms crossed, gazes cold.
Both adults looked back at the school once more, praying that the stupid play as over without
any more hand holding or possible kissing.

Bruce HAD texted Damian on his was back to the mansion, telling his son he could switch
schools back to Gotham High since his mission was no longer needed and remaining in
Midtown could result in unsavory experiences such as the play.

To his surprise, the teen had texted back angrily that he wouldn't leave the school. Though
Damian explained how illogical it would be to move schools again and that Jon had
important football games to play, Bruce couldn't help but gawk at his son's willingness to
stay.

Not that he could argue further, Selina took his phone and took turns yelling at him with
Alfred.

On the way back to the Avenger's compound, Pepper was hysterical, wondering how Tony
could get high school detention at this day and age. She was angry, which finally made Tony
feel some sort of remorse for his actions.

Maybe embarrassing his kid in front of all her peers might've been a little too much.

But he'd still called her after school, telling her she could look into new schools with Harley
when she made it home. Being around a Wayne would be too much torture for both of them.

But Brooklyn had cursed in Russian at him, then followed by saying, "All my friends are here
dad! Peter is here remember? I'm not leaving and you may be able to command me to stay
out of the mission, but you can talk me out of this"

Tony should been angry at his child's defiance, but honestly, he was impressed.

Brooklyn had not yelled at him since they decided to be a family and give peace a shot. She
was a good kid, and the fact that she was so willing to stay at her friends' sides was endearing
enough that Tony dropped the subject.

To his relief, Brooklyn wasn't mad at him since the play went well and she got full marks.
But when Tony made her promise to stay away from the Wayne, she'd hung up on him.
Pepper had been pleased with that response, and she'd taken away his lab privileges until he
went and fulfilled his punishment with Mr. Wayne tomorrow.

As if driving a nail into a coffin, Harley had greeted them at the entrance of the Avenger's
lounge with a paper in hand. With a smile on his face, the boy proudly announced he'd
decided to go to Midtown with his big sister after all.

That was enough for Tony to barely be able congratulate the kid, then crash into bed.

Brooklyn POV-

After that embarrassing intervention, the teachers had not seemed as upset as Brooklyn had
expected. They had just called for the play to continue as if they wanted to finish before the
bell rang desperately.
Despite the shock of seeing her dad at school, Brooklyn pushed that aside to get back into the
flow of the character for the next few scenes. It wasn't long after the love confession at the
balcony, that Romea and Julian elected to get married in secret.

That's the scene Brooklyn was in now, with a white dress, a twin to her black one. With a
sword still strapped to her waist, Brook made her way down the prop church where a smiling
Damian extended a hand for her.

This is when the shock of the events from earlier vanished as Brook realized this was the
scene they had only been able to practice once together unlike all others. There was
something about getting 'married' to Damian Wayne that had always felt a bit silly, made her
stomach twirl in anxiety at the likelihood of messing up her lines.

Still, both teens stood confidently before MJ, clad in priest robes as she read her lines that
would marry two people from opposing families.

With all that had happened earlier with their parents, Brook truly felt if she was doing
something incredibly forbidden right about now.

Only the oddly comforting hand of her friend kept her steady, let Brooklyn quell her nerves
as she turned to face Damian, and with a sudden wave of calm while beholding his sharp
green eyes, she found the will to say her scripted vows.

"I vow to you, Julian, to always be true to you and you alone, and to never stop loving you
with all of my heart. I know that doesn't sound like much, but it is all I have to offer. After
my exile, there is not much left for me to give. But, in always being true to you, you will
always know that you have someone to be with you and help you through anything" she said,
taking a deep breath, locking his hands into her white gloved ones as she continued, "I also
vow to you my name. Montague is a name that has done nothing but hurt you family, and so I
am giving it up this evening so that you know I will never hurt you. I also vow unto you, my
life. You now hold whether I live or die in the palms of your hands, because your happiness is
my happiness, your sadness is my sadness"

Though they had never truly rehearsed that scene well, she'd managed to recall all her lines. It
was a bit of a shock realizing Brooklyn meant some of those words not towards Julian, but to
Damian, her friend.

She would never hurt him. Damian would always have someone to be with him, to help
whenever he needed it. It was odd how those vows of love were similar to the vows of
friendship the two had made not too long ago. It made it all the easier to say them to him.

The lights above them turned to Damian as he clutched her hands gently, secretly running his
thumb on the scar under her watch, likely to push past his own nerves (which he'd totally
deny having) before his voice resonated across the room with his own vows, "Romea, I vow
to you that I will always love you no matter what. Through thick and thin, murder and
treason, I will love you until the day I die and many, many days after that. Even though you
killed my cousin, I still love you with all of my heart"
Brooklyn had to fight the urge to laugh that that particular vow. He's mentioned the death
with such aloofness it was actually comical enough to send everyone on the side of the stage
chuckling.

Despite that, Damian's eyes were all locked onto her own as he added, "I also vow unto you
all my belongings and riches. What is mine is yours, and from now on, we can share
everything I own. Finally, I vow to you that I will always be with you, whether physically or
spiritually, I will always be there to guide you and help you"

With that, MJ proclaimed them husband and wife, and Brooklyn's cheap veil was pushed
aside so that their noses could touch in what the teachers had deemed worthy for a kiss.

Being so close to Damian like that, it had briefly reminded Brook of the day at the mall...but
this time they did not kiss.

Fortunately, the earlier interruption cut their time shorter than they had anticipated. The bell
rang across the space and the sounds of busy hallways could be heard outside the room.

The teachers did not seem to mind all that much though.

"This is actually perfect!" Mrs Pettel said, clutching her pregnant belly as she moved towards
the stage, Damian's teacher clapping beside her.

"I agree" the male teacher said, "This is our own version of Romeo and Juliet after all. We
can decide to give it a happy ending in this case! A version where the star crossed lovers
defied the stars and won. Everyone did a wonderful job, expect full grades for your hard
work!"

The students cheered, and Brooklyn was tackled out of Damian's hold by Tanya and Ned,
with MJ joining the hug shortly after as they rejoiced on their success.

Everyone was encouraged to get dressed quickly so as to not be late to class, so Brook had to
rush out to the back stage and get out of her wedding get up in record time.

By the time she had to leave, Brooklyn decided to wait for Dami so they could make it to
history together just this once, so they could smirk Flash's way together to let him know he'd
just lost a large sum of money.

As people congratulated Brook on their way out and her friends rushed to class with promises
to see her later, Damian came out and silently began walking by her side. She debated
bringing up the interruption from their parents, but neither teen seemed too keen to bring that
up after such a success.

People didn't even notice them walking together until they made it to the from of their history
class when Damian reached into her loose hair. He pulled out a small while flower, part of the
crown that had been atop her head for the wedding.

With a smirk, Brooklyn jokingly said, "Keep it, so you can remember 'our wedding'"
She was not surprised to see Damian roll his eyes, but he did tuck the flower in the drawing
notebook in his hand.

At least Flash had paled a few shades that day in class once he realized his loss. That had
been worth everything that had occured.

Later on in the day, while changing for gym, Brooklyn discovered a few more flowers left in
her hair from hastily dressing so quickly.

She tucked a few into her bag as well, if only for the memory of the craziness of today, to
remind herself that with Damian, she could very well accomplish anything.

******

Damian POV-

Damian was still trying to work out how his father had found out about the play when a
knock came at the door. Still scolding himself from doing something so stupid, the Wayne
opened the janitor's closet door for Brooklyn to make her way inside.

She smiled at the familiar space where they'd once tried to kill one another on his first day of
school.

"Cozy" she said, taking a seat on the floor while fixing her rose-patterned dress as he took as
seat beside her.

They were both three classes away from ending the school day, which had shaken the school
once rumor of his father and Mr. Stark interrupting the play spread. He'd had to ignore
Brooklyn all day because of it. But he knew that because of the spectacle today, he'd likely
have no other chance to deliver this to her as promised.

Even when they were both supposed to be in class, Damian slowly reached into the pocket of
his black jacket to pull out the bag of cookies Alfred had made for Brooklyn as a thank you
for offering to help Barbara.

The Stark beamed at the smell, snatching the bag out of his hands and quickly taking a bite
out of the famous triple chocolate cookies Damian had told her about. He was pleased to see
she clearly liked them, but couldn't help the brow that raised itself when she offered some to
him.

Though he was never once for sweets, Alfred's cookies were the only exception to that rule.

"C'mon! We did a good job today, we deserve to celebrate our victory together!" she said,
handing him a cookie, and because of the tight space of the closet where they could meet in
secret, it was easy for Brooklyn to lean slightly and place the sugary treat into his hand.

Deciding to indulge her in this small act, he nodded and took a bite of the delicious treat.

Even if their absence from both their classrooms was bordering on long, both leaned on the
dirty walls of the janitor closet, surprised by chemicals and cleaning supplies as they ate the
cookies while exchanging stories of all the gossip they'd heard all day.

He noted the way Brooklyn's eyes dimmed with worry when she mentioned something about
Parker's own performance going well. But it was gone as soon as it came.

Though they probably looked ridiculous, they stayed in the dark closet until they were
fighting for the crumbs on the bag, shoving one another slightly, fingers engaging in fights of
their own until Brooklyn burst out laughing from the silliness of it all.

"Mom told me dad has to serve a punishment with yours, they have to go to the pre-school
together" Brooklyn said, red lips in a huge smile.

Damian couldn't help but feel a maniacal smirk at the thought. Now his father would get a
taste of his own medicine at last.

It was then, that both teens realized how mad they truly were. Not so much that their parents
had come in and done all that stuff in front of their peers, they could care less about what
others thought, in that they agreed completely.

What truly angered them was the fact that both parents were tying so hard to keep them from
doing things, like going on missions or doing something as idiotic as a school play.

"Mom was right when she said we should trust the heroes can do their job" Brooklyn mused,
leaning back on the wall with a frown while adding, "But this is enough. I think its time we
get back into this mess before they become even more overbearing"

Damian huffed in agreement, "They pushed our hand. If they won't let us help, then I guess
we'll have to go back to trying to figure out things ourselves"

Both knew Jon and Parker would have no problem agreeing, neither ever backed down from
a fight. It was with that resolution that both teens stood, fixing their clothes and wiping
crumbs from their mouths to hide the evidence of their little talk.

Before exiting, Brooklyn stepped close to Damian and though panic at being touched did not
seize him like with all those other students during the play, the teen found his breathing to be
slightly labored as she wiped a few minute crumbs from his cheeks.

"At least it's not strawberry ice cream this time, right?" she whispered.

Damian tried to come up with a witty remark to match her own, but came up short for some
reason. Instead, he moved to fix the cherry colored sweater around her form.

There was once a time when Damian could think of nothing worse than to be this close to a
Stark, when he thought just as his father clearly did. But Brooklyn was his friend now, and
he'd found the arrangement to be quite pleasant.

It angered him that father had suggested he switched schools earlier. Though Damiam held
no particular attachment to Midtown itself, he couldn't quite imagine not seeing Brooklyn
walking down the halls, going out on missions with her, Jon, and Parker. Even driving to
school seemed less dull now, the thought of Jon not playing football with Osborn was equally
as shockingly unimaginable.

The fact that his father had tried to take that all away, albeit unknowingly, it had made the
cold brushes of anger rush through his body, only quelled by Brooklyn's smile, a twin to the
one she'd given Julian Capulet not too long ago.

So he fashioned her loose locks behind her ear, then whispered, "You can throw away the bag
then, my beloved"

After pushing the brown bag into her hands, Damian walked out the closet with a smirk as
Brooklyn tried not to be too loud as she yelled after him.

While Damian had to go a floor down back to his class, Brooklyn had to go a flight up. In the
place where they would part ways, both teens smirked at one another, a promise to talk
tonight before disappearing from each other's sight.

Once back in class, no one dared question why Damian was gone for so long, especially as he
turned in his engineering project shortly after with no flaws.

Once back in his seat, the person beside him seemed to scoot even further than he already
was, which Damian as glad for as he thought drawing might be a good way to spent the rest
of the class in peace.

When the Wayne opened his notebook, he came face to face with a small cluster of white
Baby's Breath flowers. The memory of the wedding from earlier was somehow made even
more embarrassing when Damian realized that was the end of the story that was supposed to
result in tragedy and death.

Those vows had not been difficult to say in the least, it was one of the easiest lines actually.
Seeing Brooklyn in a white dress before him, with a veil and flowers in hand had
been...disorienting, especially considering he'd never given marriage much of a thought.

How odd that had been.

Instead of throwing away the flowers that had been in Brooklyn's hair, he pressed them into
the notebook pages for storage, knowing full well he'd deny ever keeping them if asked.

Today had been full of surprises, but he'd gone to bed peacefully that night regardless with
the memories of tunes from the play and lines said with his friend.

******

Extra:

The Wayne siblings 'totally did not' get yelled at by Alfred for trying to 'get their brother in
trouble'. Dick taken one look at Alfred's disappointed face and had almost blurted out their
real intentions. But he held himself back once Jason suggested they go train now that Bruce
was about to something stupid no doubt.
They 'totally did not' sneak out and went straight to Midtown High, not to witness the drama
of course, by the time they arrived not only was their father in trouble, but Mr. Stark as well.
That had been unexpected.

They had remained hidden, 'totally not' sending their smallest sibling, Stephanie, to get into
the air vent of the auditorium. Said sibling 'most certainly did not' record the remaining parts
of the play between Damian and the young Stark.

If they had done so, they would had to rush back home at the speed of light so Alfred and
mom wouldn't have caught them in Tim's cramped SUV. IF they had managed to make it
home on time, then they would've had to rushed upstairs so that when Alfred, Bruce, and
Selina came back, they could pretend to be surprised by the outcome of events.

But they wouldn't do that...they were 'excellent' and 'well behaved' kids.

HAD they done something like that, then they might've gone back upstairs to Dick's old room
and watched the play Stephanie was still squealing about. Jason hated the happy ending, but
aside from that, they all had the time of their lives watching it all.

Baby bird was a surprisingly good actor, though the siblings suspected some of those scenes
hadn't been much acting as it was Damian being unaware of his emotions. It made it all the
more amusing to watch.

If they had been enjoying such an amazing form of entertainment, Stephanie and Barbara
would been staring up at the TV with stars in their eyes. Tim would surprisingly, yet at the
same time expectedly, been mouthing the Shakespearean lines by memory.

Damn know-it-all.

Cass as always remained quiet though, but had Dick been paying attention to her during the
wedding scene, he could've sworn he saw a small smile on her face. If Dick ever mentioned
something of the sort, he'd be dead before he could finish the sentence, so the lad said
nothing.

What would've given them a heart attack had they pulled such a crazy stunt, would be the
knocking at the door towards the end of the recording. Scrambling to look casual, the siblings
would've sat on the floor, pretending to listen to Tim as he read one of those boring book he'd
kept on hand. Something about business and numbers.

That's how Alfred would've found them, raising an eyebrow, but not questioning it as he
dropped off a few snacks since they'd missed lunch.

Luckily, the siblings were able to act normal and keep a straight face during dinner when they
sat at the same table as Damian. The teen looked as he always did, bored, annoyed, but
sightly lost in thought.

Selina and Bruce assumed Damian was angry about the embarrassment at school, but most if
not all the siblings knew better. They had practically witnessed Damian flirt, confess love,
 and get married, something they never thought possible, it was no wonder such an event
could be swirling around Damian's head.

That night, as everyone (but Barbara and Tim of course) went out on patrols, they got the
chance to gush about the happenings of a simple school play, almost disappointed Damian
had missed out on having his first kiss.

No matter the outcome, all of their spirits had been lifted, and that their hatred for the Stark
lessened all the more though no one admitted it. She had been a very good actress as well,
had looked like enough of a beauty that Steph was surprised Damian had clearly not realized
it yet.

Of course Damian would be the type of guy to fall for someone not by their looks like most
typical men.

Still, they owed Brooklyn Stark all the more for clearly making things more comfortable for
their younger brother during that play...and everything prior to that.

By the time everyone had made it back to bed with only a few small bruises and cuts from
little crimes stopped, some were still awake, staring up at they ceiling wondering how the
world could've changed so much.

If they were still freaking out like this, then how would Damian be?

Chapter End Notes

I don't know if there is anyone who still remembers Disney's High School Musical. But
do you guys remember that moment from the first movie when the parents see the main
characters singing together at the callbacks. Yeah, this is basically that except the
parents freaked out.

I only have older brothers, so sometimes I feel like what I remember of my youth is long
forgotten. Hopefully someone out there remembers as I do.
 No More Troublemakers Please
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

A week after the happenings of the junior play, the school had finally come down from its
high.

Brooklyn was glad to see guys were no longer reciting Shakespearean poetry her way and
that as Flash came into the parking lot of the school, he still wore the frown of someone who
had lost hundreds on a stupid bet.

Today though, Brooklyn had not been dropped off by Damian. She was standing with Peter
by her side, and a nervous Harley on the other. Brook's brother stared up a the building before
them like it was a scary prison of sorts, clutching her hand as he tried to fix his backpack with
the other.

Brooklyn did not comment on the clammy feel of his hands, but instead whispered to him,
"You have nothing to fear. Remember that I'm a text away should you need anything today,
I'll even walk you to all your classes if need be"

Harley looked up at her, even when they were almost the same height. His dirty blonde hair
was still messy from all the times the teen had rubbed his hands through it nervously in the
car ride with Happy.

She quickly smoothed down the worst parts, then turned to Peter as he moved beside Harley
to point out some windows up above, explaining what classrooms they belonged to. Harley of
course listened intently, Spider-man was his hero in many ways, and the teen worshiped him
in and out of costume.

Glad to see her brother was at least getting less jittery, she moved to stand beside the person
that had been at Peter's side.

Yelena stared up at the building with some apprehension, even though Brooklyn could tell
half her mind was already scanning all the entrances and exists. Not to escape, but as an old
habit Brooklyn still found herself using everywhere she went.

It had been quite a shock receiving a call from Fury that morning that not only was Harley set
to attend his first day of school at Midtown today, but that he'd decided Yelena was well
enough to do so as well.

Apparently, both Peter and Steve had argued that school had been great for Brooklyn's
development and that Yelena should get a try as well. Brook found she had little to no
problem with that, especially since Agent Johansen was now tasked with keeping sights on
Yelena, which meant less attention on the Stark and her friends.
Still, she couldn't help but think this might be a good idea after all. Yelena needed to see what
being a normal kid was, and coming to school, passing off as a distant cousin of Brooklyn,
would be a good start.

Since they'd come a bit early, Brooklyn and Peter were able to usher the two new students to
the office with little fuss. When the lady from the front office noticed the new faces and
seemed to recall whatever call Dad had made yesterday, she left to get schedules and such as
the principal came in.

Coffee clutched in hand, Mr. Morita waved at the men and women working at the office,
stopping once his eyes landed on Brooklyn's entourage.

"Hello Miss Stark, Mr. Parker" the man said, then turned to the unfamiliar faces, 'You must
be young Mr. Stark. I had no clue you'd be attending school today"

Harley shyly waved at the man.

In an effort to spare her younger sibling, Brooklyn said, "This is my little brother Harley, and
this is my...my cousin Yelena Belova. My dad transferred them to school yesterday"

The man's eyes wend wide.

Turning to face the two new faces, the man said, "I hope you're not a troublemaker like your
sister and father. Mr. Stark"

Brooklyn smirked, she had no clue she was seen as a troublemaker in the man's eyes.
Somehow that was amusing.

"I can assure you Harley is the well behaved one of us Starks" Brooklyn said, "He's really
smart too, you won't have any problems from him"

The man hummed, cautious and unconvinced as she turned to Yelena, who was already
folding her arms in exasperation.

Thankfully, it seemed she was keeping her expressions neutral as the principal asked her,
"What about you Miss Belova? I assume you are from Ms. Potts' side of the family. I don't
want any more troublemakers here, I trust you are well behaved"

For a man who had unknowingly admitted three assassins and a kryptonian into his school
this year, he seemed awfully hopeful. But Fury had deemed Yelena's progress far enough that
she could attend school with civilians. That in itself spoke wonders.

So, before Yelena could prove she truly would be a piece of work, Brook replied, "My cousin
is from Russia and may not be used to some of our customs, but she is a good student"

The man ran a hand through his face, "I expect nothing less from people of your family tree
Miss Stark. Very well, I wish you two kids a good first day of school, should you need
anything or become interested in any extracurriculars don't hesitate to come to me"
The four teens nodded, and before the man could leave, he told Brooklyn, "Oh, one more
thing Miss Stark. The preschool called me yesterday, said your father and Mr. Wayne served
their punishment, let him know he's once again allowed to come to school events only if
announced"

Brook smirked, but nodded nonetheless as she tried to push past the images of the weekend
when her dad came home frantic after spending hours with Damian's dad. He'd shouted,
ranted, and even went as far as to swear to keep his distance from his enemy as much as
possible from now on, common enemy or no.

It wasn't long until Harley and Yelena were handed over their school supplies, and while
Peter helped Brook's brother carry his load, Yelena had refused the Stark's help all together.
She'd been quietly observing this whole time, likely noting the learning environment so
unlike that of the Red Room which was nothing more than glorified cold rooms of iron,
stained with blood.

This place must've been so different as it once had been in Brooklyn's eyes when she first
moved to the city on her own. Open windows, students arriving outside with gleeful shouts.
Yelena had come on game week, and Brooklyn was debating asking the spy if she was
willing to experience her first football game when familiar voices made their way towards
them.

Harry was the first to reach them, not hesitating as he wrapped Harley into an embrace. They
hadn't seen each other since Family Day, but during their meal afterwards, the two had found
they had many things in common when it came to video games or old card games.

Harley did not back away from the embrace as a result of that familiarity.

"I had no idea little Harls was coming to school with us! This is so exciting!" Harry said,
moving to inspect the teen's new sophomore schedule as Tanya came and greeted Harley with
a quick hug while MJ just waved. Even Ned had been friendly with a salute.

All her friends knew of Harley like the rest of the world now, Brooklyn was just been
thankful beyond belief that they were being so friendly to him on his first day. At least Harley
would not feel alone in the slightest.

It was as Tanya was fixing her cheer bow that she noticed Yelena stuffing books into her
locker, Brooklyn teaching her how to go about it more efficiently while her friends fussed
over Harley's clothes and teachers.

"Who is that Brooks?" Tanya asked, moving to stand beside the Stark as she waved a hand at
the blonde assassin who still seemed to be trying to work out her new clothes.

After introducing Yelena as Brooklyn's 'cousin' the group introduced themselves, with Harry
throwing a few flirtatious comments Yelena didn't seem to catch. She was quiet for the most
part, assessing them all while trying to seem at ease.

Afraid the girl would feel overwhelmed and old instincts would kick in as a result, Brooklyn
mentioned something about showing Yelena the way to the locker rooms while dragging the
assassin away down the hall.

Once they made it around the corner, Brooklyn said, "Sorry about my friends. They are alike
that all the time, its just something you'll inevitably get used to"

Yelena clutched the straps of her new backpack, eyeing the halls that were slowly being filed
with curious eyes at the new face.

"So this is your establishment for education, Printsessa Stark " she mused, "Its...unusual"

There was something about being mocked as a princess that still made Brooklyn feel like
flinching, but she pushed that all aside with the excuse that Yelena was still not quite at the
allies stage yet.

Brooklyn knew what Yelena meant. It was something to get used to for sure, especially with
the Red Room background. So she'd bee kind and understanding today...

Smoothing the lapels of her green cardigan, Brooklyn replied steadily "You'll grow used to it.
At first it seems like everyone is overly happy for no good reason, that the classes are too
easy, but then you start growing accustomed to the comforts"

Yelena's green eyes turned to a group of girls who were doing a poor job of whispering their
observations on the new student, thankfully, before Yelena decided to attack and show them
who's hair truly was dull, Brooklyn's name was shouted across the hall.

Almost sagging with relief, Brooklyn turned back to see Jon making his way across the sea of
students with Damian by his side, calm and collected as always.

When Jon rushed over and twirled her around a few times off the ground, Damian quickly
moved to push Jon back to his side, the usual morning greeting that was normally displayed
outside the apartment complex or in the parking lot.

"Hey! Damian has some great-ish news that..." Jon's eyes snapped to the unfamiliar figure
behind Brook.

Jon wasted no time giving Yelena a friendly wave just as Damian seemed to recognize
exactly who that was.

One second, Damian's face had been passive and bored, the next, he was seconds way from
taking out a dagger and burying it in Yelena's chest. Just as she sensed the change in the air,
Brooklyn cursed under her breath and pulled a now defensive Yelena and Damian quickly
away from the traffic of students and onto an empty classroom with Jon following behind.

As soon as Brooklyn closed the door, Damian was already pressing his arm against Yelena's
neck, voice shaking with unrestrained anger as he spat in the blonde's face, 'You think you
can try and kill Brooklyn without me recognizing you? You thought there would be no
consequences? How about I get some of that poison and leave you to rot!"

Before Brook could move, Jon was already pushing Damian back with some difficulty even
with that superior kryptonian strength. It wasn't until Brooklyn stood before him, willing
Damian to calm down that he seemed to relax for a few seconds, only to pull her behind his
body.

The Stark almost tripped own her own heels at the move, but managed to say, "Relax, she's
not working with Ivan! We've been helping her these past few weeks and SHIELD deemed
her ready to come to school"

Jon stood with raised arms between an angered Yelena and Damian, suddenly going slack as
he asked, "Wait, this is the assassin that tried to take you back to the Red Room?"

When Brooklyn nodded, she wasn't sure why she'd had the brief worry that Jon would move
to track Yelena as well. Instead, the teens blue eyes went bright like stars as he turned to the
blonde excitedly.

"You're an assassin too!? Wow, we definitely need to be friends! And you're so pretty too, I
don't mean that in a rude way of course, I just meant to say that you are good looking. God,
what am I saying. My name is Jon Kent, and I want to be your friend" Jon ranted, then
extended his hand out to Yelena, who just stared at it in confusion.

For a second, Jon's ranting had been much like Peter's nervous sentences, but on Jon they just
seemed all the weirder. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Jon would be eager to befriend
yet another assassin, Brooklyn just hadn't expected him to get so tongue tied about it.

Brook, still standing behind Damian, watched in fascination with hands clutched on Damian's
shoulders. She beheld as Yelena slowly moved to place her calloused hand on Jon's and was
more than amused when the kryptonian let out a surprised squeal, body raising itself off the
ground much to the blonde's shock.

When Yelena backed into a desk, staring up at a flying Jon, she tuned those wide green eyes
towards Brook in question.

"Oh," Brooklyn said, "Jon is half-kryptonian"

Guess that secret was out too.

Jon did not seem to mind as he nodded by the ceiling where he was surrounded by hanging
plastic planets making a solar system, almost as if mocking his alien heritage.

Damian as already sighing in resignation while Brooklyn couldn't help but relax knowing all
the blinds of the room were closed from prying eyes.

The girl turned to Brooklyn and said with a hint of her Russian accent, "You are friends with
the son of Superman?"

Jon answered for Brook with a nod, coming back down to the floor so he could gesture to
Damian, "And this is my friend Damian Wayne. He won't say he's pleased to meet you so I'll
do it for him"

Damian scoffed at that, but did not share a single greeting as promised.
"Wayne?" Yelena questioned, "The man your otets was screaming about the other day"

Tony had been very loud during training...

"Yes, he's Bruce's son" Brooklyn admitted, watching as Yelena smirked towards the Wayne.
The blonde moved from the table, stalking closer towards them as she said softly, "Yes, I
recall him. He is from the League of Assassins, I'm surprised to see you too have turned your
back on your masters"

Damian went still, glare intensifying as he said, "At least I left of my own accord and not
because I was caught. I don't remember you at all"

Brooklyn watched as Yelena sat atop a student desk, legs crossed while she inspected her
nails.

"You wouldn't" Yelena said, "We were nine years old when Ivan took me and a few others to
the League before it fell. But I remember those eyes of yours, that frown"

Damian looked about ready to attack again, even Brooklyn was slightly shocked at the fact
that both Yelena and Damian had already met once. Brook had fled the Red Room when she
was seven years old, and the League of Assassins had not met its fate until Damian had been
ten years old.

Of course they had met.

After the fall of the Red Room, Ivan would go see what his allies/enemies could provide. But
what kind of trainee had Damian been that he'd made a lasting impression on little Yelena?

Though Brook and Damian were now quite comfortable exchanging stories of their assassin
days, it wasn't often that they did so. It was too depressing in some sense, enough that both
teens often elected to just focus on the future.

But Yelena was looking at Damian like she'd finally wagered how badly she would've lost a
fight against him, somehow there was a sense of amusement in her expressions at that
thought.

Before Damian could forget his vows not to kill, Brooklyn moved towards Yelena and
ushered her towards the door. As she began turning the handle, Brook said, "She's trying to
start over just like we did Damian. I know what she did was...not very nice. But she deserves
just as much of a chance as we got"

Damian said nothing to counter that statement, and as they girls made their way back to the
lockers with the group, Jon shouted a goodbye for both, Yelena's a little more enthusiastic
than Brook's farewell.

*******

Brook and Damian had been able to exchange a few coded letters in History class. Not much
had been said aside from a promise not to kill Yelena unless she seemed like a threat to
Brooklyn's life.
In P.E., Brooklyn found out Yelena was in a few classes with her friends already, but the
Stark wouldn't see her until Calculus with Jon. Seeing as Brooklyn's desk was the only one
available, it would be apparent that she'd be stuck between Jon and Yelena then.

Thanks to Tanya's imparted wisdom, it took very little effort for Brook to notice Jon had
some sort of fascination towards the blonde. Maybe it was the need to help broken assassins
like Brook and Damian, or maybe it was something else entirely.

Ether way, when that class came after a mellow P.E. trying to calm Damian down subtly, the
girl came into the Calculus classroom to see her predictions HAD been correct. When she sat
down beside Yelena, Brook was just glad there was no word of the blonde having caused any
kind of chaos today.

The only think the rumor mill reported all day was that there was a new student, the Stark's
cousin who was shy and kept to herself. As for Harley, Brooklyn had been ecstatic to catch
his eye a few times in the hall, the boy already surrounded by a group of friends and no
longer looking afraid.

Since he had new friends to help him around, Brooklyn hadn't had to do very much to help
her younger sibling, and she was happy to report his happy smiles to Pepper and Tony
because of it.

Yelena on the other hand, seemed bored as she took out a plain notebook, shooting intense
stares at all those who gazed her way. At least she did not glare when Jon came to sit at
Brook's right.

In fact, Yelena tried to hide the relief of seeing a familiar face. Brooklyn could tell the girl
was slightly weary of Jon as well, no doubt for the same reasons Brook had when she found
out he was half-kryptonian. But as of right now, Jon was not an enemy, a good start.

Before the lesson started, Brooklyn heard Jon whisper, "Have you talked to Damian yet?"

Brooklyn panicked for a few seconds. Had Jon figured out she was friends with her enemy?

To her relief, Jon added, "He found out something really interesting this morning about the
mission"

Was that what they'd been meaning to tell her before Yelena came into question? Said blonde
leaned close to whisper, "What mission are you talking about? I thought Natasha said you
were grounded from field work"

Before the Stark could think if it was wise or not to share details of her secret life, Jon had
already decided that Yelena was worth trusting without a hint of a doubt.

"Brook hasn't told you?" he asked softly, then after making sure no one was staring at the
back of the class, he added, "We are trying to stop the Joker from killing people. Peter,
Brook, Damian, and I do hero work around the city too. But don't tell anyone, our parents
forbade us from doing so"
Yelena smirked, "I had no idea you still had backbone sestra. But I thought you and the
Wayne were enemies?"

Brooklyn tried to swallow her scream of frustration as she replied, "We are in a temporary
alliance because the Joker tried to kill both of us. The Avengers and Justice League are
working together too, but so far they've only had a few successful missions with little
reward"

"So you intervene?" the assassin asked, earning nods from both Jon and Brook, who decided
that Yelena might as well know everything regarding that. As a spy, the blonde would only
feel more determined to find out the truth and expose it if Brook tried to hide it anyways.

"We try to" Brooklyn said, "Ever since Damian was targeted, we were instructed to stay out
of it"

Jon shuddered, "Good thing we didn't stay out of it considering tje Joker's next plan"

When Brooklyn elbowed him for further explanation, the class had begun, and their strict
teacher kept an eye on the back as if to asses what kind of pupil Yelena would be. Brooklyn
had to spend Engineering class wondering what Damian had figured out after all.

By the time lunch rolled around, Brooklyn had been scratching her head at the possibilities of
the Joker's supposed plan.

Those thoughts were only temporarily halted once she was at the lunch line, where she was
greeted by Agent Claire as they shoved food into their plates.

The agent had found a group of friends at what was labeled the 'physics nerds' table. Though
the agent rarely did more than walk Brook to the car after school and check up on her at night
sometimes, they always had some sort of weekly update conversation.

Like always, Brooklyn whispered to the woman, "Nothing to report. I haven't been targeted
by anyone and Yelena has been behaving well"

The brunette hummed, "I've noticed Miss Belova's progress back at the SHIELD academy.
Your family's involvement is likely the only reason she hasn't killed someone. Fury and
Yelena seem to get along well enough, most find it terrifying though"

That was scary.

Fury taking Yelena under his wing, it made Brooklyn worry that she'd report back everything
to the eye-patch wonder once the school day was over. But Brooklyn knew for a fact that
Yelena's allegiance was foremost to Natasha and by definition, Brook was involved in that as
well.

Sestras stuck together.

Thats what they always texted one another when they got the chance. Natasha always made
sure the two teens understood that they were a team, criminal record or no.
There had been a gleam in Yelena's eyes when Brook mentioned doing secret hero work on
the side earlier, something that made Brooklyn think that perhaps the teen would keep quiet
about all this stuff...that she even seemed slightly interested in it all just as Brooklyn had been
once.

Once eager to do as much good as she could, if only to taste what it was like. Yelena seemed
to have that same curiosity now and Brook wasn't sure if she should indulge it or shut it down
lest they both get in trouble.

Ether way, as Brooklyn made her way thought he tables and busy crowds, she almost
chuckled when she saw Harley already situated at the center of a table, no longer shy as he
was showing a group of boys how to fix their engineering projects. Tony had mentioned the
kid had a talent with machines, it appeared that it had earned him some friends here after all.

Brook had explained to Harley earlier that kids would try to be his friends for just being a
Stark and that he had to look out for that, but it seemed that this was the start of genuine
friendships for her little brother.

When he caught her eye, he waved enthusiastically, to which Brooklyn replied with a small
wave toward the table, watching as the little sophomore boys went red to the ears at the
gesture.

Silly kids, it was slightly amusing how they were still star stuck by Brook's unwanted
popularity.

By the time she made it to her own table with tray in hand, her friends were already seated
and dividing up the food they would all share.

Before sitting down, Brooklyn made sure to let Yelena know to come once she realized the
assassin hadn't made reservations to sit with anyone else.

Yelena at least replied to everyone's greetings with a faint "Hi" before settling down beside
Brook. No one seemed bothered by the extra member, they just went about the usual
conversations about movies, books, or lessons.

Today Peter was shyly defending a character from Stark Wars that both Ned and Harry
seemed to hold a grudge against. Tanya was too busy shooting heat eyes at an unsuspecting
MJ (busy reading book) to hear Yelena whisper to Brooklyn in Russian, "Tak eto tot mal'chik,
o kotorom govorila nasha sestra?"

So this is the boy our sestra was talking about?

Brooklyn knew Yelena was talking about Peter, with his sweet collared shirt, apple juice in
hand and beaming eyes as he defended a character with the passion of an actual court case.

Yelena recalled that talk with Natasha about her little unspoken feelings for Peter, something
Brook shouldn't have been surprised by. But she'd kept quiet this long since Happy came to
pick Brook and Peter up, and at least Yelena had the decency to whisper this in Russian for
their privacy.
Before Brooklyn could try and salvage some of her pride with a lie, she felt the usually empty
seat beside her become occupied. Thinking it was Flash, as per usual, trying to ask her out,
Brook was about seconds away from threatening him when she caught sight of the stygian
hair, and the familiar green eyes that belonged to Damian.

The table went quiet and Jon and Damian took their seats on THIS side of the table.

That had never occurred before, and Brook wasn't sure why Damian was willing to risk
sitting with her in public until she recalled the apparent discovery he had made. But even that
wasn't enough to risk the quiet all around the cafeteria as everyone stared at the table in
shock.

Luckily, Jon managed to save them all by saying, "Sorry to interrupt everyone, but I wanted
to sit with my new friend Yelena. Hope its not too much of an inconvenience"

Harry, Tanya and MJ kept their gazes on Brook, as if expecting her to shove Damian aside or
something. Instead, Brooklyn made a show of rolling her eyes and going back to her food.

Harry whispered something about Damian before letting the series of events play out. He
actually seemed glad to have Jon, his teammate, joint the table which must've been enough to
not argue for the Wayne to leave.

Once the tense air waiting for a fight dissipated, the eating hall went back into its loud
splendor with a few whispers here and there.

"What are you doing here?" Brooklyn asked, just loud enough for the half of the people
seated at the table to hear, those being Damian, Jon, Yelena, Ned, and Peter.

Damian pulled on her sleeve, making sure Brook sat further away from Yelena (despite
meaning she'd sit closer to him) before saying, "You may be able to trust your 'cousin', but I
don't"

So...Damian was here to protect her?

Jon laughed, leaning over the table to lock eyes with Yelena as he said, "Don't mind Damian.
He's always grumpy with everyone. We are both happy you are trying to move on
from....your homesickness"

Nicely worded Jon...

Yelena merely leaned over to Brook's side and whispered, "Pochemu tvoy vrag tak grub so
mnoy? YA dumal, vy dvoye zaklyuchili peremiriye?"

Why is your enemy so rude to me? I thought you two made a truce?

On her other side, Damian whispered back in decent Russian, "S toboy ne bylo peremiriya,
pauk"

There was no truce with you, spider.

Yelena seemed like she might vault over Brooklyn's body to attack, but Brook gave the girl a
subtle frown before turning to Dami.

"There are more important matters than the past" she said, which gave Peter, Ned, and Jon
and idea of what the conversation had been about.

While Harry and Tanya were busy fighting for some toasted bacon and MJ was reading
across from them, Brooklyn dared to ask what Damian had found. When he shot a harsh look
at Yelena, she merely said, "I'm not here to spy or hurt anyone anymore. Sestra wants to fight
a clown, then I will help her as a way to replay my life debt for sparing my life. Besides, my
skill set will be useful in any fight you come across"

No one could argue that any extra help was useful. Brooklyn was just shocked Yelena now
felt like she owed the Stark a life debt. The blonde's day must've not been too bad if she
considered her life better than death now.

Jon was the first to smile.

"This is great! Another member to our team!" he whispered excitedly, with Peter suddenly
beaming at the thought beside him. Even Ned seemed ok with it, whispering something about
needing to get Yelena a com device in that case.

Everyone turned to Brooklyn then, as if making sure she was ok with that.

Yelena seemed almost nervous at the silence, looking at Brook's brown eyes with a very
discrete ounce of hope she was sure even the blonde had no idea she held.

Natasha HAD been adamant about including Yelena in their dancing lessons and training to
make the teen feel welcome, as if she belonged somewhere. Perhaps this would be useful too,
a way for Yelena to learn how to fight without killing the way Brook had.

There had been a lot of good knowledge that came with doing hero work, Brooklyn was
almost certain it had been a helping hand in becoming the person she was today. SHIELD
may not agree with it, but they didn't have to know what happened inside these school hours.

So Brook nodded, turning to Damian to make sure HE was ok with this. Damian was the one
to convince, and his opinion was just as important as the rest of the team to take into heavy
consideration.

The Wayne looked down to Brook's wrist, discretely moving his thumb along the scar
retesting there, the one from being handcuffed to a bed in the Red Room for years. He then
turned to see just the barest hint of Yelena's own scar hidden beneath the sleeve of her pink
sweater.

Brook was considering pulling Damian aside to at least explain to him what her reasoning
had been to keeping Yelena alive, to help her out and save her from Ivan's clutches. But that
was all unnecessary when Damian simply nodded, and as he noticed the rest of the table
turning to talk to everyone else, he whispered in Russian, "Yesli vy zastavite menya dumat',
chto vy napadete na neye ili predadite yeye, ya pozabochus' o tom, chtoby vy nikogda ne
uvideli svet "

Damian's warning had been loud and clear, enough that Yelena merely nodded, not bothering
to explain to the table what words had been exchanged. But they rang inside Brook's head as
they all ate.

He'd said; If you make me think that you will attack her or betray her, I will make sure you
never see the light of day.

It had not been the half-hearted yet strong promise Tony had made to Yelena, this one had
been raw and to the point. When Yelena amusedly asked why Damian was defending his
enemy, again doing so in Russian to keep the table from understating, Damian had replied
simply;

"We are a team. That threat goes if you attack or betray anyone else, even Leeds and Parker
as much as I hate it. Maybe in time you will see what a team truly is. I sure hope so for your
sake"

The table only understood Peter's and Ned's last names but no one had the courage to ask the
Wayne what he'd said. When they noticed Brook was calm and unaffected, they relaxed and
began offering to invite Yelena to some of their planned group activities.

Yelena did not shut down any of them, especially the one of the nearby planetarium. She still
did not accept, but it seemed like progress in its own right.

When Brook had briefly taken hold of Damian's hand under the table to squeeze it in thanks
for worrying over her safety, the Wayne had kept his expression impassive to the onlooker's
eye as he squeezed right back.

Jon just seemed glad that Yelena was joining the team, even more so when he mentioned
something about a dance to the table. Brooklyn had been snapped out of her gratitude then,
wondering what her friends could be yapping about so passionately about.

"A dance?" Brooklyn asked, imagining the graceful and expensive glories of the gala she'd
once attended.

Looking to Harry, she added, "We have another gala to go to already?"

As she began frantically going over her mental calendar, wondering how she could've missed
such a thing, Harry laughed and thew her a baby carrot that Damian redirected away from
hitting Brook face with a piece of bread.

Aside from the gawking at the display of such skill, it was MJ's bored voice that replied,
"What do you mean? Haven't you seen the posters all around school?"

She hadn't, and apparently neither had Damian or Yelena because the three assassins
suddenly realized there WERE indeed many colorful posters around the walls advertising
something called a Yuletide Dance organized by the German club.
Tanya put down her mascara wand as she added, "Its basically a winter school dance. Have
you ever been to one before Brook?"

When she shook her head, coming up empty-handed to such an event happening at her old
school, Tanya looked like she was about to faint. Slamming her hands down on the table, the
cheerleader said, "Then you must go to this one, luckily for you its boys ask girls so you'll get
plenty on invitations to choose from!"

Brooklyn as beginning to feel the drags of a headache at the thought of another event with
teenagers like Flash's party.

Harry, seemingly brought back to life by the subject added, "Its simple really. In a week or
two there will be a bunch of card posts al around school. Guys go and write down an
invitation and shove it in a blue envelope. Then we put them in the girl's locker and wait for a
reply. Takes the stress out of asking someone personally"

Jon beamed at the idea even as MJ seemed to stare holes at the poster.

"Girls should be able to ask guys even when its not a Sadie Hawkins dance. Plus the concept
of celebrating the Yule of pagan roots like this is weird, they used to do so with sacrifices and
offerings to Odin and the other gods"

Peter arched a brow, "Like Thor...the Avenger?"

MJ nodded, "The people would bathe in the blood of animal sacrifices to appease the gods
during the winter celebration, not spike the punch at a high school dance as everyone sways
to pop music"

Tanya smirked, "Don't worry my sweet friend, I'm sure someone will as you this year, show
you a fun time, and then you won't be as bothered. Who knows, maybe a girl out there will
the be one doing the asking"

MJ seemed unconvinced, and Brooklyn was still shocked such as thing as a school hosted
dance was possible. She might've pondered on the stupidity of it all had she not caught Peter's
hopeful gaze towards MJ.

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been splashed on her face as she realized Peter was likely
planning to work up the courage to ask MJ to this silly dance after all.

In an effort to understand what that truly meant, Brook asked, "So what does it mean when
someone asks you to a dance?"

Tanya beamed, curly brown hair bouncing with her movements as she explained, "Well,
couples ask each other to these dances as a way to spent time together. Many people come
together as a couple after being asked actually. Others go as friends, in groups just to enjoy
some time together. It depends if its date date, or just a date"

So there were complications, and just which of these intentions did Peter hope to achieve?
Was it even her business? Before Brook could begin to worry over silty specifics, Jon asked,
"So when can we start asking?"

Ned did a mental tally of the days with his fingers.

"I'd say in two weeks when the cards come out, though some like to do the more traditional
poster asks, most of this is Yule themed. One year they had mistletoes out all over the school,
and if you got stuck under one with someone, you had to ask, that was fun, took the
awkwardness out of the whole thing and some people became new friends because of it" Ned
said, shuddering at however memory that particular year brought along despite his positive
outlook.

Beside Brooklyn, Damian was still inspecting the posters curiously. She briefly wondered if
Damian would ask someone. Likely not, he despised public events.

"I can't believe I didn't notice them, I guess our types of brains only store a certain kind of
important information" Brook said, referring to their assassin training that should've let them
notice this small detail, but had failed to do so.

Damian nodded subtly, then whispered back to half the table, "This is atrocious. Gotham
High had school dances, but nothing as elaborate as this. Lets hope we are successful in our
next mission then, otherwise there won't be a school to host a dance"

Those words were finally enough to remind Brooklyn of the real problem at hand. Because
conversation had picked up around the table again, Damian and Brook deemed it too risky to
talk about this now.

So during their next class, the team of secret vigilantes agreed to meet at the roof garden of
the school for some privacy since Damian claimed this information could not wait another
day to be conveyed.

Brooklyn and Peter had felt awful leaving Harry behind for a few minutes to deal with the lab
himself as Brook faked a small cut for Peter to take her to the 'nurse's office'. They had met
up with Ned on the way, and Brooklyn was surprised to see Yelena had come out of her own
class as well for this.

Yelena was serious about helping then.

Once at the roof, they found a space between citrus trees to come together in a cycle with Jon
and Damian finally showing their slight concern on the matter.

Peter had gone wide eyed when Brook made to stand beside Damian, but said nothing further
on the matter as the Wayne explained, "Tim was able to place a tracker on one of the Joker's
goons yesterday, and he spent all night listening and recording every and all conversations
had with the Joker. Most of it was useless talk, enough that he left for a few minutes to get
some coffee while I was busy training"

Yelena raised a hand sarcastically, "Which of you is Tim again?"

Brooklyn realized Yelena still did not not about Damian being Robin, but at this point he had
no patience to hide his identity as he explained his family's vigilante work.

Jon, sitting beside Yelena, added, "Damian called me when he was going over the audio since
nothing good had come up so far. We were bored until the Joker said something about
Damian and the Waynes"

So the Joker hadn't let that failure assassination go after all.

"The Joker is mad that Batman and everyone else is back to guarding Gotham stronger than
ever. He can do little with the Avengers and Justice League protecting everywhere else. So
he's focusing on Damian" Jon said somberly, "He thinks that killing Damian will set Uncle
Bruce off his game which will give him the opening he needs"

If that clown ever dared show his face a mile distance from Damian, he'd regret it deeply.

"So we protect Damian at all times then" Brooklyn said, "I don't care if we're all grounded,
I'm not letting that cheap Pennywise get what he wants"

In truth, just thinking of Damian at the Joker's mercy again...it was not as annoying as it used
to be, now it was almost scary.

Damian shook his head though.

"He's not just taking his chance to go after me" the Wayne said, hands fisting at the folds of
his black pants when he added, "The Joker thinks he can get the Avengers off his back, fill
them with equal grief by killing you too. I don't think he knows just how involved you are in
this, but he wants to kill you as well to weaken your father"

Oh.

So that was the problem.

Peter was pacing around the tree as he asked, "So he's planning to kill you two? When?"

Damian shook his head as if annoyed by what he'd heard, "He's planning on doing it in a few
days. Since the Stark and I go to Midtown, which is not guarded by anyone in his eyes, he
plans to bring his goons in tomorrow night to set up a bomb that will blowup the school and
everyone in it"

Brooklyn was shaking at the thought of all that unnecessary death. The Joker was desperate
to cripple his enemies, to get the upper hand at last that he was being reckless.

Ned sighed, "So what is your family planning to do about it?"

Damian frowned, "Thats the thing, he's planning some big crime in Gotham to keep them
busy from interfering. If I tell them what I heard, whatever that crime is will be successful
and innocents will suffer. We have to deal with this on our own. I deleted the audio for that
same reason, my family will never know and if we tell the Queens authorities about it to
prevent it, not only will the Joker know someone was listening, but he'll be much more
careful to make another attempt soon we won't be able to prepare for"

This wasn't even about getting back at their fathers anymore, this was the only strategical
way to save lives.

SHIELD was afar too busy to spare a secret bomb squad for sure. The Avengers were not
swimming in free time either. They couldn't be asked to choose saving their children's lives
over those of citizens...that just wasn't right.

Standing up from the tree's shade, Brooklyn moved to the ledge of the roof, letting the cool
fall breeze ruffle her hair as she slowly turned, looking her teammates in the eye and said,
"Damian is right. This is our school, the threat is meant for the two of us, so its our duty to
save it"

Jon and Ned moved to stand beside Peter, who was no longer pacing. They nodded in
agreement with little fuss to make up their mind, but they watched in awe as Yelena moved to
stand by them as well, wiping the concrete dust off her jeans (No doubt from a traditional
before school shopping trip with Nat) as she nodded in agreement as well.

That quickly, the group set about a plan to sneak into school at night tomorrow, using the rest
of the school day for Ned to find the blueprints of the building while Brook and Damian
came up with possible places a bomb could be hidden without being noticed at school.

Yelena agreed to work with Peter of figuring out which bomb was most likely to be used,
with Jon as a helping hand for researching the Joker's past bombings.

Yelena had actually finished her Red Room training, and knew more about bombs that Brook
could, and Peter was arguably the best engineer and chemist out of them all, if anyone could
assist, it was him.

There was the possibility that an alien bomb would be used for sure, which is why Brooklyn
would take the late hours of midnight to go over SHIELD records as discretely as possible
with the help fo Ned to see what they could find. Ned had also agreed to help Damian sneak
into his family's own stash of information just to be on the safe side.

Tomorrow at 9pm, the group would meet at the school, and they'd stop it from being
destroyed. There was no room for error or fear, not when hundreds of lives were depending
on this, especially now that her brother Harley attended Midtown as well.

If Yelena found her first day of school to be too much or far too odd for her liking, she did
not show it as Happy came to take her back to the compound.

In fact, Yelena seemed determined to come up with an excuse to stay with Brooklyn
tomorrow to make their plan easier. Luckily, her good behavior today just might be the key
for that to happen.

Harley also seemed very pleased when Brook and the kid met up after school. He gushed
about his new friends and fun classes as they walked to Happy with Agent Claire in tow.
 Seeing his joy for this new school, it only made Brooklyn want to protect it all the more as
she saw the assassin, agent, and teen off.

Damian had waited for Peter and Brook to finish their goodbyes, and the three spent the ride
to Brook's home planning out ways to make their mission easier tomorrow.

Unfortunately, Brook would not be able to get to planning right away, she and Peter had
something important to do later today, something that was made all the more important
considering their mission for tomorrow might be more dangerous than they were letting
themselves consider.

Chapter End Notes

What can I say, Jon loves meeting new assassins.

Also as an explanation, Yelena remembers her visit to the League of Assassins quite
vividly, recalls Damian as the heir to the League, the grandson of the great Ra's al Ghul,
son of the legendary Talia al Ghul.

To young Damian, Yelena had just been a faceless guest into his kingdom, thats why he
doesn't remember.

Keep in mind that Damian doesn't know that Brooklyn was supposed to inherit the Red
Room, and she is also in the dark about his heritage. It's not that they don't trust one
another with this information, they just don't want to scare the other away with that
knowledge of how involved they truly were. At least not yet.
 The Fair
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Peter Parker POV-

Even with the heavy news of their next mission, Peter and Brooklyn still didn't have the heart
to cancel on their planned day with Cassie Lang.

Cassie's mom had texted Peter all week telling him how excited the little girl was, and he just
couldn't hurt her that way.

When Brooklyn and Peter finished their homework before sunset, she let him swing her
around the city in his suit as they made their way over to the suburbs area of the city. Some
people that caught sight of the Spider-man seemed happy, thinking that meant the hero would
be aback soon enough.

But Peter was still grounded, and it was unlikely the people's good graces and hopes would
remain for long. It was a constant fear in his head, a worry he got when he was almost out the
window before realizing he couldn't go out and do his usual hero work.

Brooklyn had been the person to reassure him time and time again that the people of Queens
loved him. That they thought he was busy doing Avengers work and did not hold it against
him. Maybe thats why he was so glad to finally be able to do something to help the people of
Queens tomorrow.

He'd missed being able to swing around the city as the sun set, dreamt about it a few times.

Having Brooklyn with him, now comfortable enough to look at the passing buildings was
certainly a plus. She'd been such a rock to him during these past few weeks not just with
encouraging words, but also by giving him the opportunities to continue to help out.

Peter was actually very happy with their team, even more so now that Brook and Damian
were starting to consider it as one. He'd never expected Yelena to join, but he was glad for it.
Sure, she was hard around the edges and a little cold, but just as Brooklyn had changed, he
believed Yelena could too.

With this team by Peter's side, it certainly made the burden of being Spider-man all the easier,
made him feel like he wasn't just a kid trying to play hero, but actually making a difference.

Over the sound of the wind, Brooklyn had one hand around his shoulder, the other clutching
the large black hoodie to conceal her identity. Yet she still shouted, "You seem to be enjoying
yourself today!"

Had she noticed his change of mood so easily? Of course she had..
"I just missed this" he replied, taking one last long swing that sent Brooklyn curling against
his chest. As they free-fell Peter couldn't help but let out a whoop of joy while Brooklyn
whispered Russian curses under her breath.

It wasn't until they made it to the alley where Peter would change back into civilian clothes
that Brook opened her eyes, leaning on the brick wall as she discarded the hoodie.

"I hate it when you do that. I'm the one thats supposed to get revenge on you for letting dad
know about the play. Lucky for you you're my best friend, I'll let this crime slide as well" she
whispered to the giant trash bin Peter was changing behind, earning a sheepish chuckle for
Peter. He never wanted to make her feel uncomfortable, but sometimes he couldn't help but
want to see how she shied away from the winds.

As someone who loved to seem indestructible, Brooklyn still had a few things that made her
even more human than she allowed the others to see. Free-falling was one of those things.

Once back into his jeans and collared shirt, Peter swung the small backpack over his shoulder
as the two teens made their way to Cassie's home just in time.

The little girl didn't waste a second letting them walk to the door, she rushed out the front
porch and hugged both their legs with a giggle.

"Itsy bitsy spider! Brooky! You made it! Can we go now! Please?" Cassies asked, clutching
onto Brooks dress and Peter's jeans as she swung impatiently.

One wave from Cassie's mom back inside the house had the two teens nodding, each holding
on to a small hand as they made they way down the street towards the nearby park. Brooklyn
mentioned she was just glad they hadn't seen Cassie's giant pet ant, a
But the Stark still ushered them quickly down the street just in case it showed up.

Cassie, who elected to wear a deep purple tutu with a long sleeve full of butterflies looked
excitedly towards the visible carrousel wheel and rides high enough to bee seen over the
roofs of the nearby homes and the trees of the neighborhood.

Today was a special day after all. The Queen's Fair had begun.

Peter had many fond memories of coming here with Aunt May as a kid, even a few foggy
ones of his younger years when his parents were still alive. Everyone in Queens loved the
fair, and it was usually very hard to get tickets this early on, but Mr. Stark had gifted them
some when the fair was brought up during training at the compound and Brooklyn mentioned
she'd never been to a fair in her life.

Cassie had been dying to go this year with Peter again, so the teen set it all up with Mr. Stark
last week. It helped that the guilt of interrupting Brooklyn's play let them come without any
sort of overprotective escorts, something Brook seemed to enjoy as she too stared out
towards the joyous screams, music, and sounds of rides in motion.

Peter almost felt the breath knocked out if him as he beheld the fair lights illuminate
Brooklyn's surprised face, the way her mouth quirked into a smile at the sight of something
new. It was rare for her to let go completely and succumb to fun, but with Cassie around,
Peter knew that would not be hard today.

Even now a days, Brook always managed to surprise him somehow. She looked younger,
filled with a kind of lost childhood joy as she was dragged over to the entrance by Cassie
with Peter in tow.

After handing over the tickets, Peter went to a booth to purchase a large strip of tickets for
rides and games using the money Mr. Stark had ordered him to use. Peter wasn't sure why
Mr. Stark thought they'd need over four hundred dollars for the fair, but he'd been instructed
to take all the money regardless.

When Peter turned around waving the tickets in hand, he caught sight of Cassie carried in
Brook's arms as the little girl began to point out rides while the teen smiled at the wonder all
around them.

Tomorrow they would have to fight, become their more violent selves for the sake of other's
lives. Both she and Peter knew that. But today, Peter would make sure Brooklyn could feel
what it felt like to come here as a kid, to live that experience she was deprived of.

Even as the occasional person recognized Brooklyn from time to time, no one had the heart
to approach her while the three of them were on their way to a ride, or eating cotton candy,
churros, or anything Cassie was craving in that moment.

Even thought the rides were mellow by teenage standards, certainly nothing as crazy as
swinging down the city with Spider-man, Brooklyn still managed to find joy in them
alongside Cassie. Peter even found himself scared at a few of them still, no matter now silly
that sounded.

Peter was more than shocked when they got to the bumper cars. He'd heard the endless
rambles from Happy about Brooklyn's lack of driving skills, so he almost crashed his own car
against the edge when he saw her expertly maneuvering her small vehicle (even if it was not
an actually car) with ease.

When he'd driven by her side and asked, she'd merely said, "I learned the mechanics not too
long ago. I just had to go about thinking about driving a certain way"

Peter wondered if Mr. Stark had taught her to drive at last, the way he had taught Peter. Either
way, he was just glad to see Brooklyn have the time of her life, helping Cassie bump as many
cars as possible.

The three got face paintings at some point too, which Brooklyn had not complained about at
all. Cassie of a butterfly -like mask to match her shirt, Peter a little doodle of the Spider-man
symbol (Brook's idea, not his), and the Stark a small painting on her cheek as well, but of a
little bat, as if doing such a taunt could carry on miles into Gotham for the Waynes to seethe
over.

After photos were taken, Cassie had wanted to go on the carousel now that night had befallen
them so she could see the city lights in the distance from a good view. Neither Peter nor
Brook had argued as they guided the little girl to the line, hand in hand.

It was there, as they stood waiting while Brook leaned down to wrap a scarf on Cassie's neck
that an older lady patted Peter's shoulder. When he turned around with a smile, asking how he
could help, the older woman chuckled slightly.

Her smile turned to Cassie as Brook pulled the little one into her arms so the girl could rest.

"Your wife and child are very beautiful, you have a wonderful family" the elder woman said,
only to be scolded by who Peter could only guess to be her granddaughter, someone who
looked just a little older than Peter and Brook.

"Nanna, those two are teens" she said, then turned to Peter and said sweetly, "Sorry for that,
my Nanna doesn't have the best eyesight anymore"

The elderly smacked the girl with her cane lightly.

"I didn't use my eyesight girl, I sensed it"

The teen had whispered to her grandmother, loud enough for Peter's superheating to catch as
she said, "That girl is the daughter of Tony Stark, leave her be"

The Nanna smirked and whispered back, "Those two are lovely together, like the sweetest of
fruits in summer"

It was Autumn though....

Not entire sure what that meant, but far too embarrassed to ask, Peter merely turned back to
the girls, trying to calm down his blush with the passing breeze while Brooklyn avoided his
eyes as she rocked Cassie back and forth in a soothing motion.

Thankfully, it was now their turn to get into the Ferris wheel, and as they settled with Cassie
seated by one of the windows to look out at the city, Peter ended up seated beside Brooklyn.

When the machine first moved, Brooklyn had seemed to panic, almost reaching out to Cassie
as if to keep her safe from some danger. With a small smile, ignoring the embarrassment from
earlier, Peter took her smaller hand into his own.

The action almost made Brook flinch for a second, but upon realizing it was Peter, she smiled
up at him in thanks and ever so slowly wound their fingers together. Its was like a rush of
warmth was transferring from her body to his through their interlocked touch.

It suddenly hit him.

He was in the Ferris wheel with Brooklyn, not just his friend, but also a girl. Peter had only
even been atop this thing with May and at some point in time, his mom. It felt oddly special
to spend the experience with Brooklyn of all people now.

Seeing the way the firework lights glimmered off her skin, the manner in which she indulged
all of Cassies curiosities and questions....how she hadn't let go of his hand. It made Peter
happy, really happy, but he also felt his skin blush redder than her favorite lipstick.

It occurred to him that Brooklyn had been one of the few girls in all his life that had not
picked on him, or laughed at his face when they found out how much of a nerd her really
was. Tanya and MJ were like that too, but they did not know of his secret identity on top of
that.

Brook had grown to accept it, and in some way, that made him feel less alone. It made him
feel special and cared for.

He knew Brook heard the comments from passing students. That she knew people though
Peter was not popular or good looking enough to hang out with someone like her.

Brooklyn was famous, smart, kind, and really....really beautiful.

But she'd always laughed those comments off, even glared a few times. Brook always told
Peter not to worry, that if anything SHE was the one who was not worthy of his friendship.

It didn't make sense, but it was comforting to know that even when her popularity grew,
Brooklyn had never left him.

When she turned to look at Peter, smile wide and brown eyes alight with joy, Peter felt like
he'd been knocked back by the sight.

"This view is amazing" she said, then joked "The city certainly looks better when someone
isn't making us free fall all the time"

That drew out a chuckle from Peter, pulling their bodies closer as he got a look out the city as
well. It did look amazing, like clusters of lights brought down from the sky, beacons of life
Peter had sworn to himself to protect.

The warmth from Brooklyn's hand only served as a further reminder that such a burden was
not his alone anymore. Maybe it was that overwhelming feeling of gratitude that made him
reach out to place a kiss on the crown of her head.

Once he'd done so, he was far too embarrassed to move away, in fact, he noticed she too had
frozen up beside him.

What had he done!?

Brooklyn still wasn't very comfortable with many things, how could he have been so
careless!?

But Cassie had not seen the action and moved away from the window to cuddle between
them for the rest of the ride down. She was sleepy at that point, and by the time the ride
ended, Peter had to carry Cassie in his arms while Brook took care of her bag and the dozen
or so stuffed animals they had won for the girl.

(Peter hadn't used his enhanced skills for those games, but Brooklyn had won each game with
no remorse if only to make Cassie happy)
At night, the crowds had become thicker, enough so that Peter and Brook had to keep hold of
one another's hands as they made their way to the exit.

He felt content then. Safe. Not at all worried about the mission tomorrow if only for a few
more minutes.

But before they made it out, Peter caught a glance of an Iron Man suit plushy atop a ring toss
game.

Peter had not clue what came over him, but he briefly handed over a sleeping Cassie and
rushed over to use the last of their tickets on the game. Though he hadn't cheated, it was hard
not to with the training from Mr. Barton.

Lest to say, he won it and when he'd gifted it to Brooklyn, she'd chucked at his antics, but
handed Cassie back, locked their hands back into place and beheld the plush with adoration
on the way back.

Peter was not entirely sure why he'd done that, he'd always been more drawn to the food than
the games at the fair since he was a kid. But it had felt right, especially when they were
finally on their payback home and Brook clutched that stuffed toy with all her might, close to
her body as they rose and dropped, swinging though the city lights.

He went to sleep happy that night knowing his friend had a good time, and Cassie as well.

That smile of Brook's was not as rare as it used to be, but it somehow felt more precious now.
Of course Peter refrained from telling May about that when she'd excitedly grilled him for
details on what she had mistaken as a date between him and Brooklyn.

That was crazy of course! They were friends! And Mr. Stark would NEVER allow such a
thing, Peter would be dead if that ever happened!

Plus Peter had only gone on a date once, well it was more of a dance, and that had ended
before it started thanks to villains.

He'd recently imagined his first future date to be with MJ, likely somewhere like a museum
full of morbid stories she loved so much, or at a park somewhere as they joined a protest or
two.

It was ridiculous to thing May would even consider someone like Peter being with Brook, it
left him puzzled that night as to why the feeling was not so much revulsion as it was
confusion. Why that old lady had thought they were together as well.

Aunt May was just trying to mess with him, that had to be it.

But Peter found himself missing the warmth of Brooklyn's hand on his own at night,
remembering the smile on her face when he dropped her off at her balcony.

It had been...beautiful.

*****
Damian POV-

After finishing the sorry excuse of his Calculus homework, which the teacher swore would
be hard but took less than ten minutes for Damian to complete, the teen decided to go
downstairs to get some sustenance.

It wasn't too late for a simple snack, especially when he'd have to stay up late going over
floor plans of Midtown High with Brooklyn and who knew that other specifics his beloved
would think of on top of that.

It didn't seem like an awful way to lose sleep anyways, plus Titus was starting to get
annoying with all his whining before bed time, as if he was impatient and excited to hear
Brooklyn's voice.

When he made it down the last step, Damian had been slightly startled when he beheld
everyone gathered in the living room, looking up towards him.

"Oh! Good thing you came down, Alfred was just about to call you down" The harl- Selina
said, motioning with one had to take a seat while the other clutched her barely noticeable
pregnant belly.

"I was not aware we had something to discuss today" Damian said by way of greeting to
everyone, "Has father's high school punishment been increased? Or did Jason kill someone
and we're all about to get a lecture on morality?"

Jason was seated on the large love-seat by the TV, from which place he shot Damian a
childish middle finger, as if that were his only immediate form of defense.

Before Damian could decide if further punishment was worth hitting Jason with a lamp for,
Grayson motioned to the vacant seat beside him on the couch, far away from everyone else
that Damian decided to take it, though he did cross his arms on his chest to show his
annoyance.

Stephanie was within the embrace of Drake on the other couch, those two still choosing to be
so sickening with their affection that Damian almost looked away. Almost.

"Actually, none of us know why we're here. Alfred called for all of us moments ago, then left
to get something" the blonde said, drumming her free hand on the wheelchair beside the
couch Stephanie sat at, where Barbara seemed more interested in the news on TV than
whatever else was happening.

But something was amiss.

Pennyworth never called in family meetings, even when he was likely the only person with
the power to summon everyone at will. Usually, father was the one who tried to get everyone
together to discuss mission specifics, but even he seemed at a loss beside his wife, almost
looking nervous.

Good.
Though Damian had a slight idea as to what this could be about,it just wasn't possible.
Brooklyn had offered to help Barbara with her paralysis by making a leg brace for her, but
there was no way it was finished by now, not with all the other work his beloved had to do
aside from school and the Stark company.

Apparently, though it did not happen often, Damian had been wrong.

Pennyworth came into the living room shortly after, a large white box behind him set on a
large wagon of sorts. Damian tried not to let his possible recognition show as he stared at it,
then to the old man who had a smile on his face for once.

Though Damian had expected his loud and obnoxious siblings to start shouting questions and
nonsense, he had not anticipated them to be so quiet, staring at the box with weariness more
than curiosity.

Father had no such emotions as he asked, "Is today someone's birthday?"

Pennyworth shook his head, "No, but I have a gift for Mistress Barbara, should she wish to
give it a try"

Barbara was wide eyed as she wheeled herself forward with everyone else watching without
moving a muscle.

Brooklyn had done it....she'd finished the brace. Helping a Wayne when she had no obligation
to do so, even if her and Damian were friends now.

Damian couldn't help but hold his breath as the box was opened and the room was able to see
the metal brace within. Though Damian had seen the one the War Machine wore, this one had
been fashioned to look different, likely as an attempt from his beloved to hide its origin.

It was the darkest of blacks, its sides glowing a faint yellow. It did not look heavy, but at the
same time, it appeared to be quite sturdy. Damian briefly recognized some of the materials
from the hinges and the support pieces, though painted black, the Wayne knew that was
vibranium, like the dagger he now always carried beneath his sleeve.

Brooklyn had mentioned something about having a small supply, some of which had clearly
already been used to make daggers when he'd visited the lab at Stark Industries.

She'd mentioned wanting use the rest for other experiments once, but he'd never thought
Brooklyn would use such a precious metal for this.

Alfred had slowly fastened everything in place, doing so expertly in a way that could only be
done if Brooklyn had told him. The device was very tricky to work out, too many things to
set up to make sure it functioned properly.

Selina, father, and Damian's siblings had all stood up at some point, trying to see how the
machine worked and what it would do.

Father was likely not expecting this to help Barbara walk, he looked like he was trying to
decipher the object like it was some sort of exercise machine to help with the muscle strain.
Only Alfred and Damian knew what it would do, that the minds of Starks had made such a
thing possible.

When father asked where Pennyworth got it from and how much it cost, Damian was relieved
to see the old man would take this secret to the grave as he'd offered.

"I won't reveal my secrets Master Bruce. The money should not concern you either, not when
you see what it does" he'd lied, effectively making everyone less interested in where it came
from and more on what it could do.

Damian stood up, hands behind his back as he witnessed the last clasps put into place so that
the brace rested snugly against Barbara's legging covered legs. The red-haired woman looked
down at the object in wonder, and when Pennyworth made to help her stand, both Bruce and
Selina panicked and went to go ease Barbara back in her chair,

Before they could question it, Dick and Todd had taken Alfred's place, and without
questioning it, they helped Barbara to her feet.

"What is going on! She could get hurt!" father demanded trying to push past Drake,
Cassandra, and Stephanie who were holding him back, but also an equally panicked Selina.

Once her slipper covered feet touched the wooden floor, the metal braces on her legs went
taught, and as both bothers slowly backed away from supporting Barbara with shocked
expressions of their own, the room saw as the red-haired victim of the Joker was able...she
was able to stand on her own.

Damian had the vague sense of father and Selina stopping their struggling as they beheld
Barbara standing, not at all looking like she might fall back or that her knees would buckle
and she'd tumble forward.

He'd never doubted Brooklyn's machine work would fail, not once since she suggested it, but
it was still almost surreal to see it in person. Damian had spent so long seeing Barbara in a
wheelchair that even he was a little struck by the moment, paralyzed as if waiting for
something to go wrong.

But nothing ever did.

In the silence, Barbara then proceeded without an ounce of fear to take a step forward. The
small neurotransmitter glowing yellow by Barbara's temple seemed to register the want for
such movement, enough for her thinning leg to actually move.

Damian felt Dick's hand clutch his arm, and he knew Stephanie had moved to stand on his
other side, but the teen couldn't care less as that raised leg slowly made its way forward, not
one hinge creaking or making any noise.

When that foot met the floor safely, the other moved to follow, and after a few steps taken
wearily, it was Dick who began to chuckle, tears in his eyes as he moved to tackle Barbara
into a hug.
It wasn't long for Stephanie to follow suit, Jason on her tail not to hug, but to really take a
good look at the brace though his face did look much less irritable than usual, eyes narrowed
as if holding back tears of his own.

As Cassandra moved to pat a laughing Barbara who had also burst into tears, that was when
father's shock seemed to come to an end. Both he and Selina also made their way forward to
embrace Barbara, more than happy to see the Gordon did not collapse by the group embrace.

Damian was not a hugger like them, even when he did not completely mind the few embraces
he'd shared with Brooklyn. He did not cry either, the last time he'd done so had been out of
frustration when he was ten, but never again had his eyes watered, not even now.

When Barbara turned to look at him, Damian merely nodded in approval. Nothing more.

So as everyone began to fuss, encouraging Barbara to take more steps up and down the living
room, Damian noticed Pennyworth moving beside him, his own tears caught by a
handkerchief while the old man's other hand stretched behind them to place an envelope in
Damian's folded hands.

It was from Brooklyn, no doubt came with the package.

Damian took the opportunity of everyone being distracted to open the blank envelope to find
a small paper within.

It read;

You have no clue how hard it is to send anonymous packages, the postal service is doing
things right.

Hope it works alright, let me know if it even needs tweaking.

Family is power after all. May this restoration of power fuel you.

Before anyone could see it, the letter was placed in his pocket away from sight. It was not
signed, but Damian knew that hand writing like it was his own, and if he focused hard
enough, he could even smell the faint scent of vanilla that came with it, a shampoo his
beloved favored.

Pennyworth leaned down then, not taking his eyes off a slowly walking Barbara as he
whispered, "Give Mistress Brooklyn my eternal thanks, she has truly accomplished a miracle
today, one which I don't feel worthy taking the praise from"

That was right. From now on, everyone would think Alfred was responsible for this moment,
not once thinking a Stark could be the one to thank.

It made Damian slightly angry that his family would continue to hate the girl that had given
Barbara the ability to live again. But he also knew the consequences of sharing that
information, and how much trouble Brooklyn and Damian could get into if the brace's origin
was discovered. So he kept quiet, watched as Barbara's steps improved over time while new
tears flowed and smiles and chuckles doubled.
Or at least until Titus came downstairs.

Everyone froze before Barbara when they noticed Titus eyeing the new object from the last
step of the stairs. Everyone was understandably afraid, standing guard before Barbara now
because they knew just as well as Damian did that Titus doesn't like new things.

He's weary of the unknown.

One time, Titus had taken one look at one of father's new weapons and tore it to shreds.
Damian could only assume Titus thought every new object could be used to hurt his master,
so he attacked.

Tonight was no different.

When Titus charged down towards them, he was smart enough to not go directly towards the
wall of Waynes, but jump onto the couch beside them, then leap over the group to stand
behind Barbara.

Damian was a breath away from commanding Titus to stand down when they all noticed the
dog stopped his attack. He was...sniffing the brace.

After a few sniffs Titus actually backed away, tail wagging as he made way back to Damian
like noting was wrong with the world.

As everyone gawked at the action, clearly not quite believing what had occurred as Damian
ruffled Titus' ears when the dog sat by his side.

His family may not know what had just occurred, but Damian had an idea.Titus hadn't
attacked because...the brace smelled like Brooklyn.

"What was that?" father asked, moving away from protecting Barbara as if to come inspect
Titus. As usual, Damian's loyal dog did not like others being so close to his master, and
quickly got back on all fours to growl father's way.

"I did not want Titus to ruin it, so he didn't" Damian said, trying to sound bored, attempting
to make it seem like it had been a command on his part and not adoration on Titus'. Luckily,
the notification ring on his phone was enough for Damian to claim boredom and go back to
his room.

When he retched the first step, Barbara shouted to him, "Thank you....for stopping Titus"

Damian shrugged, not bothering to turn around lest he demand the gratitude should be given
to someone else entirely. He just made his way upstairs, and it wasn't until he closed the dark
wood doors of his room that Damian finally relaxed and turned to his cell phone.

It was a message from Jon.

Jon was supposed to be with Clark right now if Damian wasn't mistaken. His father had
wanted to go to some silly fair after days of working on an article in Queens, one which was
ironically enough on the four mysterious vigilantes of the city.
Jon had made sure his father never suspected them to be the culprits. This was probably just
another update on what he'd talked out of Clark during this fair visit.

But that was not the case.

This was not a text, it was an image. Not of Jon and his father in disguise though.

It was Brooklyn, she was at the fair.

Now that he thought about it, Brooklyn had mentioned something about being busy this
afternoon when he dropped her off at home, but with Jon and Parker in the car, Damian
hadn't been able to express his interest in her words.

Speaking of Parker...

There he was, that spider in disguise, cradling as sleeping child in his arms while the other
held onto Brooklyn's own. It took a few seconds for the Wayne to shake the disgust from his
mind, to wonder why his thought were going wild.

Damian was upset about something.

It couldn't be about not going to a stupid fair, he'd never cared for those kinds of events.
Maybe it was that Brooklyn could be in danger? They were friends now after all, her safety
was even more important than it had been when they were enemies. If she was at the park
with someone like Parker, it was only logical he'd worry her friend might not be enough to
keep her safe.

Staring down at the picture, he saw how happy his beloved was, smiling with tender eyes
locked on the child. Though he had no idea who the kid was, maybe he could ask tonight? As
far as Damian was concerned, Parker had no siblings after all.

But the child being there was important to him, a small relief. But why?

Damian settled down on the side of his desk while Titus laid down at his feet. He stared and
stared at the sent image, noticing the small bat visible on Brooklyn's cheek.

Parker didn't have a bat, neither did the sleeping child, which meant it was a choice.

A bat could mean many things, but Damian's brain kept wondering if it was supposed to
symbolize his family. Brooklyn had taken to joking about the other Waynes recently, calling
them and Damian sometimes as the bat kids of the Batman.

Why not get a Spider-man symbol like Parker had? Why not a useless cluster of butterflies
like the sleeping child?

It was unmistakably a bat, with black wings that contrasted the brightness of her red hair.

The only thing snapping Damian out of those thoughts was the quickening of his heart that
had become more and more recent as of late. The heat on his cheeks that manifested out of
nowhere. That unknown compressed feeling in his chest.
It had been going on for a few weeks, mostly in Queens than at home, so Damian had taken
to assuming it had something to do with the lesser pollution affecting his body. Gotham was
almost constantly covered in a dark cloud of smog after all and though Queens was no
ecological reserve, it was still a huge improvement.

Though Damian never wanted to admit weakness about anything, these symptoms were
becoming...troublesome. They happened often when he should be listening to Brooklyn as
they interacted, or when he thought too much.

Perhaps if the issue continued to get worse, he'd have to tell Pennyworth about it so proper
treatment could be applied to whatever sickness this was. For now, he could bare it.

He had to bare it.

Tomorrow would be risky, dangerous, and if they were successful....it might save their
miserable school after all.

So he laid down with Titus and Alfred the cat, placing his black sleeping pants on and taking
off his shirt. Once in the comforts of his large bedsheets, Damian decided to spend time going
over the school plans until Brooklyn came back from that ridiculous outing with Parker so
they could talk.

He hoped it would be soon, for her safely of course.

But even as he inspected basements and air ducts, Damian couldn't help but wonder why
Brooklyn had gone somewhere with Parker of all people. Sure, they were friends, but the
thought of such an outing seemed wrong.

He got his answers later at night when everyone in the mansion had gone to bed. Brooklyn
had explained that she'd gone to the Queens fair with Parker and a little girl who was the
daughter of Scott Lang, the Ant Man Damian had seen on the news a few times.

Apparently, her and Parker took to carrying for the child while her dad was on 'arrest'. She'd
been the reason the two teens went to the event in the first place, and Brooklyn never
mentioned seeing Jon.

Something about having all that explained to him eased the turmoil of emotions in his body.

His beloved was just caring or a child, something Damian knew she was decent at since their
punishment at the pre-school from what seemed like ages ago.

In return for her story, Damian shared one of his own, of Barbara's experience with
Brooklyn's little gift. The Stark had been ecstatic to hear that not only was it delivered, but
that it worked perfectly.

"Your work was more than sufficient beloved, and though my family will never say it, I
believe they are grateful" he spoke to the walkie-talkie, hearing a faint laugh from the other
side.

"Did you read the note?" she asked, to which Damian hummed.
 Brooklyn replied, "I meant it you know. This Barbara thing being one less thing for you to
worry about, I hope it will bring you some sort of peace. We'll need to be on our top game
tomorrow"

Damian knew they would have to be, anything with the Joker involved could end in chaos,
like Barbara being in a wheelchair not too long ago.

But somehow Damian knew that when he and his beloved teamed up, they were an
unbreakable force to be reckoned with. Surviving the Joker was just what they did, and
tomorrow night would be no different.

So they went thought the maps, planned backup plans, and went to bed that night knowing
they were at least not going in blind to this mission. He was still weary of letting Belova join,
that image of the assassin putting Brooklyn through pain would not go away soon. But like
Jon, Parker and Leeds, she was a wild card the Joker would not expect.

Before closing his eyes, Damian took one last look at the image of Brooklyn and Parker,
being reminded of the emotions he had once joked about her having, but she'd never denied.

Not that it mattered, his beloved was not his to command into staying away from someone as
unworthy as Parker. Damian and Brooklyn were equals after all.

Maybe her feelings for Parker were nothing. It certainly wasn't his business. But it left
Damian feeling confused for a while, trying to work out what could be so great about Parker
of all people.

In conclusion, he still had no clue.

Chapter End Notes

Just a short chapter before the events of the mission.Hope you enjoyed seeing Cassie
Lang again!

Anyways, here is to the good stuff to come!

 After Hours
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

There was something mortifying about being at school at night. It was still the same building
they all went to every morning, but under the cover of night, it seemed more like a nightmare
from one of the horror movies Ned loved so much.

Though Ned had stayed behind at home to give them proper tech support, she knew he would
agree with Brook's thoughts as she stood by the gates, looking down at the dark building in
the distance as the cloud coverage grew greater by the minute.

The place certainly did not seem abandoned, Jon had flown over and confirmed there were
people inside, but the amount of lead in the building's structure made it hard for his x-ray
vision to pinpoint exactly where.

Still, Jon, Robin, Spider-man, and the two Red Room assassins made their way inside quietly,
all in black outifts not just to blend better into their surroundings, but because they had secret
identities to worry about.

Despite never having worked with the group before, Yelena did her best to follow, learning
what their subtle glances and motions meant, all while likely working with a group for the
first time in her life.

She was a fast learner, much faster than Brook had been. Maybe it was because this was
actually a serious mission, or maybe Yelena was starting to get comfortable around them.

SHIELD and the Avengers thought Yelena had stayed with Brook tonight because of some
curriculum Yelena needed catching up on. No one had seemed overly concerned over the
phone, likely because they were all busy. What ended up working out perfectly was dad
assigning Peter as a bodyguard just in case Yelena tried anything fishy.

Yet here they were, doing something fishy together behind Tony's back.

They all moved through the shadows as one, careful of anyone being left on watch. But the
school football field had been quiet, the only evidence of someone being around was the
slightly opened front doors.

Someone hadn't cared to risk getting caught, or they were carrying a bomb that would only fit
through the large doors of the school's main entrance. Brooklyn was really hoping the reason
would be the prior option, even more so when they finally made it inside the dark and cold
hallways of the school.
Beside her, Damian already had their first destination in mind, the school auditorium. After
the junior class plays were over, the place went back to being dormant until its next big job,
which wouldn't be till the upcoming dance.

It could work.

The five of them went forward slowly, making sure not to let the polished floor beneath them
squeal once as they did their best to look around every corner, trying not to flinch when they
heard the echo of a faraway sound reach them.

They weren't alone.

After about half an hour, the auditorium, gym, chemistry storage room, AND the boiler floor
below the school had proved unsuccessful. Even when some people must walk by those areas
in a day, they seemed like the most likely places to hide a bomb.

Leaning against the safety of the girl's locker room, much to Jon's and Peter's horror (
because of their innocent chivalry), the five were already exhausted from walking around
school, tired of being startled by even the smallest of noises.

Clutching her self-made gaunltlet, Brooklyn asked GIL to turn on the blaster to work as a
small light for the group to gather around. Though they were in the safety of the shower
areas, they were still careful not to let too much light show as Damian looked over the small
3D hologram structure of the school Ned had constructed.

Yelena huffed in annoyance and said, "We should just lure them out instead of hunting them
like mice"

Damian rolled his eyes, "And when they decide to turn on the bomb early and kill us all, then
what? Do we just build ourselves back from the dust and fight back?"

Peter, as always, tried to defuse the tension by suggesting other places they could go to, like
the music room, or even the roof. Though everyone knew those places were unlikely, its not
like they had a better shot.

Until Brooklyn caught sight of something.

Speaking to the com device in her ear, Brooklyn asked Ned, "When does swim season start?"

Ned paused his slurping of something to say, "In March I think, even with the indoor pool the
place still gets too cold during these months to even try and use it. Heating the large space
would just be too costly"

Sure enough, there was a large space on the hologram map indicating a pool not too far from
the locker rooms, which could explain the nearby noises. Peter mentioned it was usually
covered by giant tarps and drained of water by now, which would be a perfect place for a
bomb to rest easy without being noticed when there was no need to go clean a pool.

Without need for arguments, everyone got their weapons ready. Brooklyn clutched her
recently finished gauntlets, keeping the light from the electricity at bay as she made sure her
daggers were ready to grab at a moments notice.

Jon flew up few feet into the air, carrying the suitcase full of bomb supplies from the Wayne
Batcave as Peter checked his web shooters while Yelena clutched the close combat twin
fighting batons she'd snatched from Brooklyn's room at the compound.

While they were getting ready to possibly go into heavy fire, Brook moved beside Damian,
making sure they were obscured from sight by the shower wall as she whispered, "You know
the Joker best, what do you think we should do?"

Damian clutched his katanas, but seemed to get a far away look as if he was truly considering
what to say.

"If he's putting a bomb, it's not him calling the shots here. He had to have sent someone else
to do it, which means we should expect the unexpected"

Not comforting, but Damian had always been more of a truth kind of guy.

Sighing, she took one last look at his face, the one she'd worried about for the past few hours.
Something about HIM being targeted had made Brooklyn angry, not that he hadn't been under
the Joker's killing list before, but this direct attack just made her all the more pissed.

She knew Damian was very skilled, perhaps more so that Brooklyn was at the moment, but
she still knew that once they they were out there, Brook would keep a very close eye on him
even if the Joker was not there personally.

Before she could make it back to the main locker room where the others were, Damian gently
held her back, his hand on her own as he pulled her close. His cold finger tapping her temple,
then he tapped his own.

"No mistakes out there. Stay strong. Stay alive" he whispered.

Knowing there was even an ounce of worry in Damian's mind was soothing somehow. It was
enough for Brooklyn to copy the gesture, then patting her friend on the shoulder he'd once
injured.

"You better stay alive too" she said, "If that bomb kills us, I'll haunt your ghost forever if you
die"

Damian did not bother mentioning how ridiculous that sounded, he just rolled his eyes and
whispered back in the darkness of that tiled shower, "I believe I would do the same, my
beloved. Then we could go haunt my brothers to death"

With a smile on her face, both teens made it back out where the others were still doing some
last minute checks on their stuff.

It was Brooklyn that said to them as confidently as she could, "Remember what the plan is. If
things start going south, Jon flies out and gets help. If that bomb is about to go off, we get the
hell out, we're more useful alive to the heroes than we are dead along with the school. Keep
your coms on, and remember" Brook said, pausing to shoot a warning look at Yelena, "we
don't kill unless there is absolutely no other choice"

Yelena twirled one of her sticks, then saluted Brook with it in confirmation.

With that, Jon still found the need to extend out his fist for a group huddle. Peter had no
trouble adding his fist to the mix, with a reluctant and groaning Damian and Brooklyn
following suit. When Yelena stared at them as if they'd grown extra heads, Jon said softly,
"C'mon 'lena, you're part of the team too"

Despite the nickname, Yelena slowly put her first forward, and the five of them held them
there for a few seconds before putting their black hoods up, masks on, and walked out into
the unknown.

Damian still wiped his hand on the sleeve of his black jacket, as if making skin contact with
Peter and Yelena had been far too unpleasant.

That gesture alone was enough for Brooklyn to at least relent one last smile before they made
it out into the dark hallway.

******

Turned out, their small guess had been correct.

Hiding behind the bleachers, the teens had a decent view of the chaos before them.

The coverings for the pool had been pushed aside, and while idiots in clown masks worked to
make proper space inside the pool itself, some where hovering by what could only be the
bomb.

Some part of Brooklyn had been hoping up until now that Damian might've heard the
conversation wrong, and that the Joker wasn't desperate enough to blow up a bunch of kids
for the sake of a selfish victory.

But there it was, a bundle of pipes, metal, and a familiar glowing blue light that could only
indicate that bomb truly was made with alien technology, meaning Damian and Brooklyn had
been right to give weapon records of information to Peter and Yelena after all.

What Brooklyn had not expected was the woman ordering everyone around. Dami had been
right about the Joker not being the one who might show up here tonight, instead, Harley
Quinn stood on the diving board in that same ridiculous outfit from last time they met, a
black and red tight suit with a horrible hat to match, its bells tingling every time she moved to
shout orders with gusto.

Someone had apparently thought that planting a bomb that would kill thousands of kids was
not morbid enough, because the speakers of the pool area were blasting a mellow classical
piece.

As the workers moved like obedient ants, Harley Quinn moved her hands to the beat of the
music, like a conductor of an orchestra commanding chaos.
Fighting the urge to shoot the bitch with a gun she did not possess, Brooklyn focused on the
problem at hand. There were at least thirty visible goons, half of which carried alien weapons
of some sort of another, some known, others not from SHIELD files.

With the pool exposed, it could become a hazard when fighting, even if there was enough
space to walk around. But the pool was deep, one fall could cause fractures or concussions
that could turn the tide of a fight, at least for the humans in their group.

None of the people present seemed to be mutants, but that wasn't reassurance enough for
Brooklyn considering Richard Reeds kid was one, but looked just as any kid. They'd have to
keep an eye out for surprise skills.

No one seemed to be expecting an interruption, especially not as Harley Quinn was notified
that the Batman and his sidekicks were busy in Gotham still. Meaning, they were on their
own.

Fighting back all insecurities and worries, Brook turned to Damian, watching as his gaze was
locked on Harley Quinn with distaste. After a few hand motions between them, a plan
formed, and Peter was the first to leave the safety of their hiding place, shooting webs up
above the other side of the room, launching himself to kick back the masked men and women
working on the bomb.

Waisting no time, Jon was next, flying up above in seconds, freezing the furthest villains in
place as the ex-assassins emerged from the bleachers, set to immobilizing those closest to
them.

Brooklyn did not have to look to Damian for confirmation as they worked in tandem. She
wordlessly ducked her back for Damian to get a boost, slicing the two closest masked
individuals by the legs. Once they fell in pain, Brooklyn rolled forward and knocked them
out with her taser -like gauntlets.

Then with the same wordless agreement, Damian moved to round up a group of five, turning
their attention on him and his katanas as Brooklyn snuck behind them, gauntlet to their necks
as they fell one by one.

Amidst the screams and panic, Brooklyn would sneak in glances at Yelena, who no doubt felt
more comfortable working alone. She used her borrowed twin batons to knock the goons out
as she weaved around their bodies, kicking and punching occasionally as she ran towards
Peter and the bomb.

Glad to see that was in order, Brooklyn inspected the area around them, empty of anyone to
fight. Jon was flying up above, using his cold breath to close all the exits as best he could.
Seeing as though Peter was taking care of webbing intruders that came close to the bomb,
Brooklyn motioned for Damian to follow her towards the diving board where Harley Quinn
looked angrily at the scene below.

Whatever idiot had tried to turn on the lights in the room had failed miserably, because
Damian and Brooklyn had to fight their way through the flickering of the lights above as they
moved to hunt down the Joker's right hand woman.
The Joker had tried to wound the Avengers and Justice League by killing Brook and Damian,
perhaps it was time they wounded him instead.

Seeing their approach, the woman chuckled nervously, jumping down from the board and
moving to the closest set of doors, which were already frozen. Even as two of her masked
lackeys tried to help pry them open, it was no use, Jon was dodging weapon blasts above but
he still continued to freeze the door so that no matter how much it was shot at, Harley would
have no escape.

Damian and Brooklyn continued fighting their way over, leaving unconscious bodies behind
as they ran, both almost smiling in anticipation.

Damian had some debts to accumulate no doubt for his sister's sake, maybe for other reasons
too. Brooklyn on the other hand, found herself eager to shove a painful amount of electricity
down that woman's throat for trying to hurt Damian all those weeks ago.

Neither teens would kill her, no matter how tempting, it just wasn't their way. But they would
make her suffer, of that Brooklyn was sure.

So they continued on their way, ignoring the music in the background as Brook let the
screams of her victims fuel her energy.

Once they made it close enough that Harley could see the two shadow-dressed individuals
hurling toward her, she motioned for her two body guards to attack.

Brook could not see their faces past those smiling clown masks, but she could tell by their
movements that they were not afraid in the least by the order.

Seconds later, she found out why.

The two discarded their glowing weapons on the floor, raising their arms even when nothing
was happening.

As Brook ran, she heard a noise. It was like the straining of pipes below her own feet.

Something clicked in her brain then, why there was nothing happing from those two, who
were clearly mutants. They were summoning something from down below.

And what ran under a pool? Water.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the pool beside her began groaning, enough for the
villains below to rise out of the space, moving to attack the focused pair of Yelena and Peter
only to be stopped by Jon, who descended down on them in seconds.

Brooklyn wanted to make sure Jon could take those dozen men and women, but the noise
from beside her was enough for Damian to pull them behind a pillar just as a wave of water
crashed on the space the two teens had been standing in before.

The water had come down with such force that Brooklyn didn't want to think how much that
would hurt against her skin. She just stared at the water dripping on the tiled floor as if began
to move towards the two clowns.

Pooling at their arms, the two gathered the water in whip like structures as Harley Quin
began jumping up and down excitedly.

"I have no idea who you think you are, but now you'll know better than to mess with me and
my plans! Attack them then you useless fools! Kill those two!" she ordered, stomping her feet
on the floor at the syllable of each command.

As the first whip hit the concrete pillar before them, Brooklyn tried not to flinch. It cut off a
small section, enough that the Stark knew one slash from that could cut through her skin and
maybe even bone.

Damian frowned, but already came up with a plan as he said, "Blast them as much as you
can, I'll sneak towards them"

Brooklyn did not argue, she just silently ordered her A.I. GIL to switch to blasters mode,
much like the feature her Stark Watch possessed, only these blasters had a little borrowed
technology from the alien gun she'd once stolen.

Once both clicked into place, Brooklyn blasted upwards off the ground, away from the pillar
of safety. As soon as she landed, Brooklyn began a dance of dodging and blasting, managing
to pierce wholes in the water whips only for more water to take its place.

But the pair had only summoned so much water out of the pipes, the more her blasters burned
through, the smaller those whips would get. So the Stark continued to blast away,
occasionally having to raise herself into an unsteady flight her gauntlets were not yet
optimized to hold like her father's suits.

It would been easier to have her own prototype Iron-man like suit with her, but Brooklyn had
valued her identity too much to risk it being recognized, so she settled for wobbly flights
instead.

Besides, that suit didn't have weapons yet, its had just been a way to make it back to Queens
from Gotham without being noticed by Agent Claire.

A shame really, it could've come in handy.

Ignoring the screaming from Harley to fight harder, Brook continued her assault on the water,
watching as the water whips did end up getting smaller and smaller as time past. Though she
did receive a few small cuts on her arms from close calls with the water, Brooklyn had held
on long enough for Damian to sneak down from above the pillar.

His dark form jumped down behind the mutants, and with his katanas, Damian pierced the
mutant's jackets, then embedded said weapons into the tiled floor. When both masked villains
collapsed down, unable to move from their places pinned on the floor, Brooklyn quickly
nodded for Damian to back away.
He jumped onto a nearby bench, which was still dry from the water attacks. As quickly as
Brooklyn could, she ran closer to them and managed to jump up on one of the racing blocks
by the pool just as the idiots though to just take off their jackets to get free, but it was too late
now.

Brining back her taser-like function, Brooklyn shot a ray of electricity towards the wet floor,
watching as the two mutants surrounded by water began to twitch and spasm until their
bodies went limp.

Not dead, she hadn't shot down enough for that, but they would be incapacitated for a long
while.

Once the electricity seemed to have done its job, both Brooklyn and Damian jumped down
from their raised platforms. Like lions stalking their next victim, the two slowly made their
way over the Harley Quinn, who was still smiling, but trying to kick the door behind her
open in lousy attempts.

Damian retrieved his katanas in the way, twirling them around as they watched the woman's
panic increase.

Then they heard it. A scream.

Brook turned to the other side of the pool, where Peter and Yelena were on the floor a few
feet from the the bomb, which was now glowing like a timer. Both were still moving, pushing
themselves up from whatever the bomb had done to them.

In her panic, Brook almost rushed over to help, especially since Jon was still busy trying to
kick down the villains attacking him without causing too much damage.

She shouldn't have turned her back on Harley Quinn, neither should Damian. But by the time
her worried mind went back to the crazy woman with no sense of fashion, Damian had turned
around beside Brook just as the last intense note of the orchestral song around them resonated
in sync with another noise.

Damian had turned just in time to get shot in the chest by one of the weapons the mutants had
discarded by Harley's feet.

The woman was smiling as the hit found its mark, and she yelled crazily "One bowling pin
down!"

As Damian's body went flying down the walkway, Brooklyn felt her mind panic even further,
but she still managed to dodge the shot meant for her by ducking into the pool. From there,
hanging by one of the racing blocks, Brooklyn watched as Damian's body came to a still by
the bleachers.

That had been a shot straight to the chest.

Those weapons had thankfully not been like the disintegrating kind Brooklyn had been
attacked by once with Happy, but the flash of light had been powerful enough to destroy a
chuck of pool tile near Brooklyn shortly after.

There was no way Damian was not in serious conditions now, possibly dead.

Dead...

The thought made Brooklyn's panic vanish at last, like flipping off a switch. Though she was
hanging on one hand from falling to the deep end of the empty pool filled with all kinds of
support pipes and cables that would surely injure her below, all Brooklyn could think about
was Damian's still body.

She'd witnessed death many times, had caused it dozens of times.

But seeing her friend hit the bleachers with screams from her teammates...it did not feel like
the emotionless concern that usually overcame her when a still body was before Brooklyn.

That anger turned hot, seething.

Not worrying over the weapons that could harm her, Brooklyn swung her arm strongly
enough to get out of the hole in one motion, landing at the edge of the pool as her body shook
with restraint.

It felt like those days in the Red Room when she'd been one wrong move from death, when
her instincts moved not to dodge or incapacitate to survive, but to kill.

That quickly, her mind had been made up...Brooklyn dodged each ray of blue light coming
her way, not bothering to look back at the damage on the floor as she rushed at Harley Quinn
with a deafening scream of rage.

Despite the villain's best attempts to bring her down, Brooklyn jumped in the air, using the
momentum from her run to rise high enough to bring her arm back, gauntlet at the ready as
the teen struck the woman in the face.

Both went down, and the weapon Harley had been using tumbled away from reach.

Brooklyn didn't care, Damian's pained grunt was still ringing in her head as the Stark settled
atop the woman, bringing down punch after punch to Harley's laughing face.

It wasn't enough just to break her nose. It wasn't enough just to dislocate her jaw with a
sickening crunch of bone.

Even so the woman still said between punches to the face, "I activated... the bomb...we're all
going to... die together now!"

Brooklyn did not care about a stupid bomb! She easily pinned the woman's arms down, made
sure the idiot could feel the force of Brook's legs on her breaking tendons as she continued
punching away with screams of her own to drown out the pain from the famous Harley
Quinn.
With each punch, Brooklyn screamed, too lost in her anger to bother worrying over the
scratching of her voice or the pain in her throat.

"You monster!...You killed him...you KILLED HIM! Now I'm gonna kill you....make you beg
for death!" Brooklyn said, hearing her voice as if she was underwater. She couldn't even feel
the sting in her knuckles, couldn't be bothered by the blood from her breaking hands or
Harley's injured face.

For a second she forgot that oath not to kill, threw it away by the memory of her friend being
shot to death.

Just the thought of never seeing Damian walk down the school halls as the students went
quiet, of not hearing his voice at night as they talked..it made her punches press on no matter
how much the woman laughed or spluttered blood around them. Each sound of bone breaking
was almost heavenly. It was right, and Brooklyn knew just how she wanted this to end.

Because Damian, it couldn't be him who has suffered this fate. It wasn't fair. Damian and his
family may have that saying about choosing Justice instead of vengeance, lived by it...but
Brooklyn came from a family of heroes that were quite literally named after that word. They
were Avengers. When everything went wrong, they avenged those under their protection...the
fallen. She didn't even want to think the word, to acknowledge what had happened to him for
too long.

"You could've shot me first you bitch! Why didn't you shoot me first!?" Brooklyn screamed
down at Harley, following that statement with a punch so hard it knocked out some teeth
from the woman who refused to stop screaming and laughing.

Brooklyn was going to kill her!

The Joker would feel Brooklyn's pain, but even that wasn't enough, this was the Joker's fault
too. She had to kill him as well. Even as Brooklyn vaguely had the sense of hearing Peter
shouting for her to stop, her fist kept moving, each punch stronger and more painful that the
last.

Lost in the red rage of her mind, Brooklyn almost missed that small voice in the back of her
head, the one belonging to the very person she was trying to avenge.

It was Damian's voice, the memory of his words from once upon a time.

It was during one of their late night talks when they were discussing their recent training.
Brooklyn had told Damian about how proud her family was when she did a simulation that
day, the same one she'd done on her fist day at SHIELD.

Back then, Brooklyn had killed every single enemy and gotten an earful about it. But that
day, Brooklyn had managed to pass the test without a single kill, something everyone had
been very happy about.

Damian had understood of course, he was an assassin too, likely knew how hard it was to
shut those teachings out.
Which is why he'd told her, "You chose the noble path many preach, but only people like us
truly understand and apply. Not bad Stark."

"Is that a hint of pride I hear?" Brooklyn had questioned teasingly.

The Wayne scoffed, "I suppose an accomplishment of that magnitude should be recognized.
We are not monsters anymore Brooklyn, I think not killing is the first step towards our
redemption for past crimes. We just have to keep that going, no matter how hard it is not to
stab someone in the face from time to time"

Brook had laid on her bed, staring up at the glowing stars above her ceiling.

"I think I enjoy not being a monster. Even if we both still have beasts under our skin, its
soothing knowing there is more than just me trying to hold it at bay"

Damian had chuckled then, "We'll keep the beasts in check my beloved. No friend of mine will
turn into a beast. We live by one rule now; Justice not Vengeance"

Hearing those words echo inhere head were like a slap to the face, making the burning anger
and the red in her eyesight vanish, retreating back to the dark place within her heart that still
remained.

Brooklyn's fist stopped mid swing, and she began panting quickly while tears streamed down
her eyes, pooling by her small eye mask. The anger was gone, pushed back to its dark depths
as worry and sadness took over.

Looking down at the horribly mangled face of the Harley Quinn, Brooklyn was almost
horrified at what she'd done. Has she kept going...this woman would be dead.

The Stark stood up then on shaky legs, only moving to quickly electrify the woman into
unconsciousness before falling on the tiled floor beside her, still panting and wide eyed as she
beheld the pools of blood coating her hands.

Gods...what had she almost done....

A pulsing light was the only thing Brooklyn could see apart from the cuts and blood, thats
when she remembered the woman's words about he bomb being activated. Still numb,
Brooklyn turned to the other side of the pool to see Yelena and Peter rushing to cut cables,
staring at the small computer they'd brought along as Yelena typed away.

Jon was by their side, lifting a heavy section of the bomb, and even as Peter worked on that
section, his masked eyes were on her own. He'd been screaming at her to stop, but Brooklyn
hadn't been able to listen.

Peter had seen it all.

Though she carried the shame of a thousand mountains, Peter was not angry, he seemed
concerned and shocked. One nod from her telling him all was back in control was enough for
him to dive into the mess of cables.
Jon was shouting the countdown time with tears in his eyes, the strain of lifting up the
machine not nearly as hard as it seemed to keep his sobs at bay. They had two minutes left.

Knowing she wouldn't be of much help there, Brooklyn got up on her shaky legs, wiping
most of the blood on her clothes before getting her head straight and rushing over to
Damian's still body.

She almost didn't want to go see.

Brooklyn had never felt this amount of sheer panic and fear in her life, but she knew that no
matter what, the Stark would not leave her friend alone. Even if that bomb was about to blow,
she'd make sure everyone left, but Brooklyn would not abandon his body even if she couldn't
carry him out in time.

When she made it to the bleachers, Brooklyn felt her body grow tired enough that she
collapsed on her knees beside him. With all the gentleness she could muster, she grabbed
onto Damian's head and pulled it to her lap, hands as kind as when he'd held her body close
to his when he traced her scars.

Her vision became blurry as water rained down from her eyes while Brooklyn looked down
at his closed lids.

"One minute and thirty seconds!" Jon shouted somewhere behind Brook, but she only cradled
Damian's still body closer to her own, whispering the words that had once been too hard for
her to say.

"I'm sorry" she whispered, over and over as she leaned down to rest her forehead against his
own.

Just as she was about to give the order for everyone to leave, Brooklyn felt something tickle
her nose.

Air.

It was air, constant busts of it against her face.

Pulling back as quickly as she could, Brook placed a hand under Damian's nose, unable to
fight the relieved sob when she realized it was his breathing, steady and true.

When she reached a hand to his chest to feel his heart, Brooklyn noticed the material of his
jacket was burnt where he'd been hit, but instead of there being a whole through his chest,
there was only metal.

Brooklyn recognized it immediately. It was the vibranium dagger she'd gifted Damian.

He'd brought it along, stashed it in a hidden holster by his chest. Only vibranium was strong
enough to withstand a blow even by an alien weapon, and it had saved Damian's life.

Upon closer inspection, Brooklyn was glad to see he was only unconscious, likely from the
blow to the head from the bleachers when he was thrown up int he air like a rag-doll. But
there was no visible bleeding in his dark hair, only a small bruise hidden deep within the
strands of black hair in the hardest part of his skull.

Knowing what she had to do, Brooklyn set her gauntlet to the lowest setting, only a pinprick
of a feel as she shocked Damian's arm, watching with a surprising burst of joy when his green
eyes shot open.

Brooklyn didn't give a damn about a bomb or who could be watching, she barely gave
Damian any time to situate what had occurred when she pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

"You're not dead" she whispered, "I would killed you if you died! Don't ever do that to me
again you selfish prat"

Damian was still for a few seconds as she felt his fingers move to the place the vibranium
dagger still rested, then he wound his arms around her back, strong and steady unlike her
shaking appendages.

He traced her scars one by one as he whispered by her ear, "I'm not so easily killed, and your
tears are getting my jacket dirty"

Brooklyn laughed at that, pulling him closer for a few seconds until she heard Jon shout,
"Thirty seconds! Hurry up you two!"

The bomb.

Just as Brooklyn pulled back from the embrace, eyes wide and panicked while she turned to
the other side of the pool, she got to witness as Yelena gave one last click on the computer
just as Peter cut a red cable with one of the blonde's daggers.

The flashing stopped. Then the beeping did.

The bomb went dark and silent as the three teens collapsed on the ground with heavy sighs.

They did it! They deactivated the bomb!

Jon was till sprawled on the floor next to two unconscious masked men when he shouted with
small sobs, "I hear Damian's heartbeat, is he ok?"

Brooklyn was surprisingly pleased to shout back, "No permanent damage!"

Jon's tense muscles seemed to relax at that, and even Peter seemed to calm down at the
words. It was there in the darkness or the flickering lights that Yelena shouted at none of
them in particular, "You guys are insane, is it always this exciting and dangerous being
around you?"

Peter was the first to chuckle, followed by Jon's half-sobs. Burying her head in Damian's
neck after she got them both leaning against the bleachers, Brooklyn couldn't help her own
burst of chuckles as she realized they always managed to get into the widest of messes just as
Yelena had assumed.
Beside Brook, Damian's arm rested lazily around her arms as he let out a few huffs our air
that were almost a laugh.

After a few ridiculous moments of just resting, Jon spoke up again, his voice slightly
panicked as he leaned up on his arms to look around to all of them.

"Is this a bad time to say I told Ned to call everyone when the timer went to thirty seconds?"

...

That quickly the four of them stood from the ground, only noticing then that at some point
during their panic, one of the doors had been blasted open, likely with one of the alien
weapons.

Harley Quinn had escaped, and one of the mutants was crawling over to the door right in that
second. Brooklyn rushed over to him, pinning him on the ground with her foot as she said,
"Where is she headed off to?"

The man spit out some blood into his mask, removing it then to reveal a man in his thirties
with died green hair and scars running up his cheeks like a smile. This was not the Joker of
course, she knew that what idiot looked like. This guy was just fanatic enough to want to
rock the look of the mentally unstable.

When the rest of Brook's group surrounded the man, he chuckled up at their masked faces.

"I have no idea!" he said painfully with a smirk,"Probably reporting back to the Joker"

"So she went back to your master" Damian mused, seemingly ready to charge after her until
the man under Brook's foot said, "Not our master. Did you really thing the Joker was the one
in charge of all this! He's a mere supplier, an honorary worker who gets to use the weapons at
our master's leniency"

Everyone froze at the information, watching as the criminal pushed his greasy hair back to
add, "You have no idea who started all this, and you never will, at least not until it is too late
and you heroes are stopped at last"

Before Brook and Yelena could try and talk the answers out of the man, he clenched his jaw
loudly. All around them, other criminals began stirring awake and upon seeing the silent
bomb, they too snapped their mouths.

Brooklyn panicked at the realization as she yelled, "Wait! No! Don't do that!"

It was useless. They had all bit into the poisoned pills hidden in their teeth. All around them,
the sounds of people chocking on something, foam coming out their mouths were seen and
heard.

No matter how quickly they ran to try and stop them, soon the five teens were standing
nothing more than a graveyard of bodies and weapons just as the rest of the frozen doors
burst open, revealing a seething Agent Claire, followed not just by the Avengers, but the
Justice League as well.
Well....shit.

*******

"I heard the Joker was planning this when Drake left for some coffee" Damian said, "The
Joker mentioned he'd cause problems in Gotham today and tomorrow to make sure you did
not intervene, so for the safety of those citizens I decided to come protect my school"

Bruce Wayne was clutching his helmet so hard, Brook thought it might actually snap. None
of the other Waynes had shown up, meaning they truly were busy back in Gotham after all.

All eyes turned to Jon, who added albeit less strongly and more worriedly, "I was on a call
with Damian when he found out, so I tagged along"

Those same scrutinizing eyes turned to Brooklyn from her place sitting next to Jon on the
floor. Even as the lights from the ambulances and police cars were her only source of light
outside the darkness of the school volleyball courts, she still tried not flinch at their splendor
as she added her lie to the mix.

"I heard the Wayne and Jon talking about it during class so I decided to come put a stop to it
as well since I was also one of the targets and I knew you would all be busy. Bringing
authorities to the situation would've only made things worse" she said, flinching at her dad's
glare the most.

Thankfully, the fiery gazes of the adults then turned to Peter, who's puppy eyes were filled
with tears that mixed with the sweat on his face as he added, "I, um, was with Brook when
she was thinking of stopping this, and well, I know we are grounded but its my duty as
Spider-man to help, so I tagged along"

Lastly, the tired gazes of the adults in hero costumes turned to Yelena, who was the only one
seemly relaxed, leaning against her elbows on the floor next to Peter. She looked up at the
heroes with a frown as she said, "Why are you looking at me!? I've never done something so
selfless and stupid in my whole life just to save a bunch of people I don't know or care about.
I did the right thing for once, and if I get punished for it, then what's the point of doing good
deeds if they are as punishable as the bad?"

Brooklyn tried to hide her smirk with the black fabric of Jon's cape at the words.

None of the adults seemed amused, not one bit as they looked back at the door leading to the
swim area where a bomb was carefully taken outside with a group of bomb squad officials
Tanya's father had called over.

First responders were hauling the dead bodies behind them with bags of samples of poison in
hand as Agent Claire spoke to them, clearly doing SHIELD damage control.

Though Brooklyn, or any of her companions for that matter, had been the ones responsible
for those deaths directly, it still stung to watch as they were carried away with masks and all.
There was one death Brook HAD almost been responsible for, but thinking about that now
almost made the tears come back, so she shoved it aside for now.

"As much as I despise to say this, you five did stop what could've been a massacre. Though
I'm still trying to work around how your defeated thirty armed criminals and stopped an alien
bomb, I'm upset you put your lives at risk you two" he said pointing at Brook and Peter, "But
that's not what I'm really mad about"

Brook knew he should be mad at the fact that she almost killed someone, but Tony didn't now
about that yet, she'd been hiding her bloody hands under her black sleeves up until now.

"What are you upset about then Mr. Stark?" Peter asked shyly, looking up at Brook's dad like
his whole world was about to rain pain on him.

Tony sighed, getting out of his red suit to properly settle down on a bench before the scolded
teens while shooting a look of disgust towards Damian.

"You worked with a Wayne, Brooklyn. Something I told you not to do under any
circumstances" her dad said, making Brooklyn's jaw almost drop to the floor.

Thats what he was mad about!

Brooklyn pushed her silver hair back, leaning her head back on the concrete floor as she
groaned out a lie of, "I did not work with a Wayne, dad! I stole his intelligence and we both
ended up fighting in the same area with a greater enemy between us. Its called a temporary
truce!"

It was a fat lie, one that made Brooklyn almost feel sorry for telling it considering she'd
thought her friend 'The Wayne' was dead half an hour ago. But they had to be enemies in
order to not make things worse, Brook knew that.

The amazon stepped forward then, arms across her chest as she said, "Is that seriously a
priority now?"

Before Tony could answer, Bruce Wayne stepped forward with his black cape billowing
behind him.

Eyes on Damian, the Wayne said, "I hate to agree with Anthony, but I'm not very happy at
seeing you here with that girl. I told you to stay way from the Stark more than once Damian"

Wonder Woman looked almost comical as she raised her arms up in exasperation, then
decided to go help the authorities scan the area for Harley Quinn, Aquaman and the Martian
Hunter in tow.

Uncle Bruce left to get medical supplies to check up on all the teens, which ended up being
Visions' and Wanda's excuse to go help the hunt for the Harley Quinn and get away from this
endless scolding.

Grandpa Steve set down his shield then, moving between Tony and Bruce Wayne, who were
already glaring at one another. Pushing them apart, it appeared that the scolding would be
taken over by the one and only Captain America.

Even Jon looked nervous now.

"You kids put your lives in danger tonight, you could've given the Joker the deaths he
searched for if you'd been less lucky" Grandpa Steve said, worried gaze falling on ALL teens.

He took a breath, then added, "But it was a very noble thing to do, especially since I know
some of you are not so used to fighting for the good of others because of your past. It was
dangerous and reckless, but your intentions came from the right place"

Beside him, Natasha still looked like she was about to murder Brooklyn and Yelena, but she
nodded in agreement nonetheless.

"At your age, you kids should not be worrying about the lives of others or seeing death in this
magnitude, but maybe I'm just old fashioned that way, remembering a peaceful childhood
from a hundred years ago" Grandpa Steve added, "You saved lives as any hero would. You
proved that you are willing to save instead of harm no matter what your past is, some of you
were even willing to push your family rivalry aside for the good of your school and
classmates. In fact, I think we are partially responsible, for shutting you guys out of this
mission even if it was for your safety, we created an air where you felt you could not come to
us for help in fear of being shut out again. Now, I'm not your parents, but I personally believe
you don't deserve punishment for this"

Brooklyn almost rushed over and hugged him. She'd been so worried to disappoint him, but
once Steve shot them all a small smile, the Stark felt like she could breathe a little easier.

Tony and Mr. Wayne were open mouthed, but they were notable to refute the Captain's logic.
Even Superman seemed less angry than before, staring at his son with slight admiration
and....was that pride?

The famous hero in red sped up beside Grandpa Steve then in the blink of an eye,"They are
useful kids if they were able to stop this by themselves and come out relatively unscathed"
added the Flash.

Uncle Clint had been perched on a concrete railing silently up until now, seemly busy
cleaning the bow in hand. When he jumped down from there, the tracker on his leg was
almost blinking in sync with his steps...like the way the bomb had been earlier.

"Maybe you don't want Brooklyn and Damian working together, perhaps they don't want to
either, but they had enough maturity to push that aside for the sake of a mission. Maybe we
have something to learn from them after all, because while we've been busy quarreling over
meeting places or who gets to do what between the Avengers and the Justice League, the
Joker has clearly been orchestrating plans of his own"

Brooklyn did not mention what that masked criminal had revealed. She wasn't sure it it was a
last attempt to buy himself time to die or if there truly was someone else pulling the strings
out there.
No one else mentioned it either.

That when sestra stepped forward, moving towards both Black Widows slowly. Yelena had
the good sense to seem afraid now of all times.

Kneeling down before them, Natasha said, "Screw all this right and wrong nonsense. You two
fought with others by your side, and you did so without killing from what I've seen, you did it
for others safely. As far as I'm concerned, you two should be proud of yourselves for thinking
past the Red Room. Its good progress, but you still have a long way to go, and if Tony is
smart, he'll give you the opportunities to grow from now on"

Brooklyn HAD almost killed someone, so perhaps she had a longer way to go than Yelena.

Either way, that point seemed to be enough for Brook's dad to stand up from his seat, fisting
his hair in frustration as he yelled, "Fine! I guess I'm very proud of Brook too, Yelena is
certainly making decent progress to earn herself a room at the compound! And Peter, you are
a good kid that always does the right thing, only defying me when you prioritize lives above
your own, so I guess I won't make sure Aunt May kills you"

Brooklyn stood up straight at that, "Really? You mean that?"

Her otets smirked then, seemingly still tired and stressed.

"Yeah, you did what I would've done if I were in your shoes. You pipsqueaks did me proud
today, enough so that I suppose that Brook and Peter can be ungrounded, but only for patrols
and work around the city! If it has something to do with the Joker, you have to tell me
though! And if you two get into this heap of danger again so help me, I will lock you in the
Avengers compound until you get your sense of self preservation back!" Tony said, rushing to
pull both her and Peter into a hug which they gladly reciprocated.

He still added, "But I'm telling Pepper and May anyways, let them yell at you for a while.
Agent Claire is still going to school with you two, but I guess I can have her protecting
Harley from now on. But if she sees you two getting in too over your heads I'll make sure she
drags you to the compound, understand?"

Both Peter and Brooklyn chuckled in glee but replied, "Yeah, promise!"

Ok. Not completely off the hook, but Brooklyn could finally do patrols and hero work
without doing so behind her dad's back!

After kissing Brook's brow, Tony held both of them at arms length and said, "You two need to
have each other's backs now when you do dangerous stuff. Keep each other safe"

Brooklyn wasn't about to mention that they already did that, so she just nodded.

That when Bruce Wayne spoke up.

Turning around, Brooklyn saw as the man neared his son with Superman in tow.
"Gotham is still too dangerous for you to patrol, especially now that the Joker is targeting you
personally, but I suppose you can keep this troubling city safe, just not with a Stark.
Understood?"

Damian scoffed, not at all looking like the guy Brook had thought dead minutes ago.

Superman stepped forward then, hugging his son as he added, "If there is ever trouble here,
you guys are allowed to engage as your hero selves. We'll tell the media this is a Justice
League internship of sorts so no one questions why you're away from Gotham, just keep your
secret identities in mind as you work"

Uncle Steve nodded, "You kids can help by keep Queens safe to gain experience for then we
might be needed you for something bigger"

The promise of being included in further missions was by far not the outcome she had
expected tonight, but it was a welcome surprise. Another surprise was that Mr. Kent hadn't
said a thing about working with a Stark as a forbidden act. Something that sent Brucy and
Tony back to an arguing fit over who's child was more reckless.

Luckily, Uncle Banner came back to shove the teens to ambulances to get checked out.

Because of their secret identities, Uncle Banner had cleared two ambulances to fit them into
privately. Jon was quick to pull Yelena to one while the other three would be left stuck in the
other, but Peter knowingly suggested to give those two some space alone.

So Peter saw it too then? The energy Jon displayed around Yelena. But she knew that wasn't
completely it, Peter wanted to to talk to her, she could tell.

Brooklyn had a pretty good idea what he wanted to say.

As soon as Uncle Banner disappeared into the other closed ambulance, Peter shut the door to
theirs so they could take off their hoods and masks at last. As soon as they sat down on the
stretcher in the middle of the vehicle, Damian noted the bloody state of her hands.

He cradled one into his own hands, raising a brow at Brooklyn in question while she took of
her ridiculous silver wig in one tug.

Knowing Peter would want to talk about this anyways, she mentioned what happened when
Damian was knocked back by the blast. Brook was not at all proud when she talked of her
loss of control, how her emotions had honed on death and destruction when she thought
Damian was killed.

When she mentioned almost beating Harley Quinn to death, Peter had flinched at every
detail, eyes away from her face as she recounted all that. Damian on the other hand, had not
flinched once, his eyes remained steady and true on her own.

Deciding that moment when she regained control had been far too personal to share with
Peter, Brook merely explained that she realized vengeance was not the answer, that a sense of
justice pulled her back.
Damian's eyes went wide as he realized what she meant, that his voice had brought her back.

Peter was the first to speak, "Brook, you really scared me back there. I couldn't go stop you
from doing that, I couldn't get to you when you needed me"

Damian scoffed, moving down from the stretcher to get some wet rags by a small sink. Back
turned to them, the Wayne said confidently, "Of course she stopped. She just lost control
temporarily, happens to the best even after years of practice"

He turned back then, ignoring Peter's wide eyes as he began cleaning Brooklyn's wounds,
which were starting to sting right about now that the yelling was over with. Damian was
careful with his movements, even when the damage to Brook's hand was not fractured bones
but small cuts along her knuckles and some bruising that would develop later.

"It won't happen again" Brooklyn said, turning to the boy beside her as his brown eyes filled
with doubt.

"There will be many times when your teammates will get hurt Brook, are you sure you can
keep those instincts in check?" Peter asked softly.

Was she?

There was just something about seeing Damian there, motionless...it had shaken the core of
her very existence. It was as if the one person who was most like her, Brook's equal, her one
confidant for everything and anything had just been taken from her just as they had made
peace.

The thought of loosing Dami had been unbearable in a way Brooklyn had never felt herself
care for.

What if Peter got hurt one day? Or Jon? Or Yelena? or Ned? Or her family? Innocents like
MJ, Tanya, and Harry could get hurt as well....

Could Brook keep that killing anger in check when she'd been convinced until recently that it
was completely gone?

Damian moved to clean her other hand.

"Of course she can, Parker. We assassins never make the same mistake twice, and now she
knows what she has to remember when the feeling comes back" he said, moving from glaring
at Peter to lessening his frown once their eyes met.

The fact that he believed in her....

Maybe she could keep it in check, work harder to protect her friends from now on.

As the door to the ambulance opened, revealing Uncle Banner, Brooklyn held on to Damian's
advice and treasured it deep inside her soul.
 It helped even further that while Banner was checking Peter's head for any concussions,
Damian whispered beside her, "You fought for me....thank you beloved"

The words thank you came as easy to Damian as they did to Brook, meaning not much. They
were like golden treasures only gifted in the most dire of instances.

He meant it too, even when he added, "I think I would've been quite upset as well had you
been hit. Don't let anyone make you feel guilty for it. We protect what we care about"

It took everything in Brooklyn not to just collapse her head on his shoulder then, but she did
whisper a thank you in return before her injuries were treated.

All in all...maybe that wasn't the worst mission ever. Even if Harley Quinn's laughs and
Damian's still body had haunted her dreams that night.

Chapter End Notes

Not gonna lie....I cried writing this. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

The team is assembling at last!

 Who is Spider-man?
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

To say life had changed since that night at the school would be an understatement.

Not being grounded was a liberating feeling, even if the worries for everyone's safety
remained. Brook had gotten yelled at by Pepper for a good hour or so the next day, and her
sleep had often been plagued by the worry that Damian was killed by the Joker in one way or
another.

She had no idea why it bothered her so much.

Yes, she and Damian were friends and though she'd never say it to his face, he meant quite a
lot to her. But the Wayne was safe at home, he always was.

Sometimes when the sheer panic of the night was too much, Brook took that prototype suit
and flew all the way to Gotham like an idiot just to make sure he was alright. He always was,
sleeping in bed with his two beasts posted as guards by his feet. The only thing those
excursions accomplished aside from calming her nerves, was that she felt like a disgusting
stalker even when she only hovered by his home for a few seconds to remain undetected by
the enhanced security.

Thankfully, her life had become all the busier with patrols these past few days, a way to work
off the stress of her mind.

There was a certain good in going on patrols with Peter, having him show her the ropes of
how to guard a city. It was like the work they had done before, only magnified and with set
paths to protect. No longer were they waiting until trouble arose, now they searched for it.

Peter had been ecstatic to wear his suit again those first few evenings, and the citizens of
Queens had welcomed their hero back with open arms.

They, along with the news, were curious of the new partner he often had at his side though.
Brooklyn no longer had to hide behind a silver wig or an ensemble of darkness after all. But
even with her red hair on display, no one seemed to even consider the possibility that the
beautiful and fragile Brooklyn Stark could be fighting crime.

Brook had heard rumors of people thinking she was a new Avengers recruit, which was
slightly true. Others thought she was part of the Justice League trainees that had been given
free reign to help out the recently more troublesome city of Queens, especially when the
police had claimed a bomb attempt at Midtown High.
With Bruce Wayne 'funding' the Batman, no one was surprised to see one of the bat's
sidekicks running around the streets of Queens with a smaller Superman.

Either way, no matter what anyone said or though, it felt good to go around the city to help
out as much as she could, enhancing her skills and experience should the Avengers need her
help.

Turned out that making a prototype suit for herself had been quite a waste of time though. A
few days ago when Brook was starting to show good results on the field, dad's secret project
he'd been hiding for weeks was finally revealed.

Turned out, that even when she hadn't even graduated from the SHIELD academy, Tony had
been building a suit for Brooklyn, one he's designed for when she finally found herself and
chose to become a hero of her own accord. He'd seen something in her then, potential or so
he said.

That night at the school and the recent patrols with Peter had apparently been proof enough
of Brook's worthiness that even though she was not an official Avenger yet (neither was
Peter), she was still a hero in his eyes.

Dad knew he couldn't really stop her from getting into dangerous situations, but he'd
expressed his want for Brook to at least be safer while doing so.

Her new suit was a golden hew, not built like Tony's suits at all to prevent recognition. This
suit was thinner, still built to fly but with the energy that powered alien weapons, it required
less controls to make it work. Because Brooklyn's fighting style was very much dependent on
agility and being in close quarters, its main purpose was not to be an indestructible armor
around her body, but something to help her fly, jump higher, which is why it did not have a
helmet to obscure her vision.

A small golden eye mask was enough for Brooklyn to cover her identity well enough, and
with her A.I. GIL built in, it made her life all the easier. Especially when maneuvering around
a large city she was still trying to memorize.

The gift had been a treasure, but also a statement from not just her dad, but everyone else in
the compound that they thought Brook COULD become something great, that despite slip
ups, she was on her way to being good person.

When dad had shown her the gift, Brooklyn hadn't felt worthy.

The memory of what she had done back at the school had still been too fresh in her mind. So
Brook had collapsed on the couch and confessed to what had occurred that night to all the
Avengers in the room.

Brook was not very specific as to why the anger had been triggered or what had brought her
back, that Damian's voice had been her anchor. She feared telling her parents about the near
killing experience would get her grounded as it was without brining worry for a Wayne into
it.
But no one seemed angry.

They had been surprised, but afterwards, mom and dad had hugged her tight in their arms.

It was Natasha that had said, "When you get into that killing mindset, it's almost impossible
to snap out of it, I know that very well form experience. But you did pull back, Rosa. You
came back to your senses. We're not gonna lock you up for that, not when its apparent Harley
Quinn would've done much worse to you kids had she gotten lucky"

Even the moral compass of the group, Grandpa Steve, had been understanding. He still made
Brook try some meditation with him that weekend to calm her emotions, but only speaking to
Damian that night had quelled the remaining unease of it all.

Patrols helped with that too, and even though Brook's and Damian's parents had been specific
about the teens not working together anymore...they couldn't help being in the same places at
the same time every now and then...or always.

Both parents were too busy to notice anyways.

Flying around the city in the afternoons with her new suit, Peter swinging with his webs
beside her, Damian using his grappling hooks to follow close by with Jon doing flips as he
flew way up high in the skies...There was nothing quite like the feeling of being a team with
them, stopping criminals as one.

Yelena sometimes joined, but she was not yet cleared on using weapons by SHIELD, so her
attendance was mostly when there was an issue during school hours and she felt like joining.
Jon always flew her in his arms, and Brook had noticed the blonde was perhaps starting to
not hate it as much.

She always stuck by Jon's side, perhaps out of familiarity, even when Yelena still pushed his
hugs away and sometimes scoffed at his jokes. But Jon always made sure to congratulate her
after a fight, praise the assassin skills that were not meant to be described so beautifully as
Jon often did.

It was endearing in some ways, in others, it was just plain weird...

In order to avoid their identities being discovered by their group outings, usually when there
was a problem at school that was relatively small, they let Spider-man take care of it while
covering for him.

Ned had gotten pretty good at that by now, so it was his example they all tended to follow
when it came to excuses.Brook meant ALL of them, because Jon and Damian had never gone
back to their side of the table, and because the infatuation Jon had for Yelena was so obvious
to everyone but the ex-assassin herself, students at school excused the odd behavior.

They never saw it as a Stark and Wayne sitting together. But as Damian reluctantly letting his
best friend make a move on Brooklyn's cousin, just as the Stark allowed the seating
arrangement for the same sacrifice.
Brook still had to make her brother swear not to say a thing to dad, but he was a good kid and
promised to keep his mouth shut quite easily. He was content with his own group friends and
social life anyways, he was not one for gossip.

Plus, slowly but surely, they were starting to become more comfortable wound one another.
Not a hundred percent yet, but Brooklyn was proud to say she was often greeted by Harley in
the halls, always before and after school. During the weekend, they even managed to to
watch a few movies together.

It was a nice routine, all of it, especially since the Joker hadn't made a big move since the
bombing attempt. But today, it seemed that the ease of the past week, the flow Brook had
come to know, would not work.

During lunch, when a robbery was reported, Peter had left to take care of it while the team
stayed to watch on the screens in the lunch room. Usually, Brooklyn would be silently
cheering for her friend to do well, but today, that was stopped by Harry's sudden words of
realization.

Harry was sitting on the other side of the table, the furthest from Damian he claimed. Today,
her friend Harry turned to the TV where Spider-man was webbing some criminals, then he
turned to the empty seat beside Brook.

That went on for a terrifying while until he said, "Have you guys ever noticed how Peter is
never here when Spider-man is out there. Isn't that odd?"

Brook froze for a second, then after taking a spoonful of her pudding she said lightheartedly,
"He left to talk to our Spanish teacher, we have a quiz coming up"

Tanya, who had her arm around MJ(who seemed to be too lost in her book) replied with a
convinced nod, "Are you serious, Harry? You really think Pete of all people would be the
great Spider-man? He can't even open a mustard jar!"

Ned discarded the remainder of his granola bar, pipping in his two cents for the benefit of
Peter's identity.

"I'm with Peter all the time after school man, it can't be him. Not to mention Brook actually
knows who Spider-man is, so if she says Peter isn't it, then its settled" Ned said, and
Brooklyn almost patted him on the back for the save.

But once Harry got into a conspiracy theory, whether it be secret government projects,
coverups, or the Loch Ness monster...he just wouldn't let it go.

Setting down his sports drink, Harry pointed at the TV, "Yes, but Spider-man is Brook's
friend, she could be covering for him! And Peter could fake being weak! He was a decent
actor as Romeo, he could pretend to be normal now!"

Thats when Peter came back into the room, hair slightly disheveled but otherwise ok. When
he took in the tense ambiance at the table, he innocently asked, "What's wrong guys?"
Before Peter could take a seat, Harry leaned over the table and said, "Pete, squeeze my arm, I
need to see how strong you are!"

Looking around the table in confusion, it was MJ that explained without looking up from her
book, "Harry thinks you're secretly Spider-man. Makes sense to me, you're always
disappearing mysteriously, like back in Washington or just every day in general"

Brooklyn was trying not to panic, she knew how easy it could be to persuade the mind to
change, but with MJ on board, now even Tanya seemed to be reconsidering her position.

Damian rolled his eyes beside Brooklyn at the predicament. Brook had to secretly elbow him
under the table to wipe that smug half-smile from his face.

Of course now was the time when one of their secret identities would crumble to pieces! And
as part of Peter's team, she felt responsible enough to help him.

"Peter is not Spider-man, otherwise Flash would've been dead by now don't you think?"
Brook said, only to gain a large smile from Harry.

He stood up from the table, moving to sit beside Jon across the table to say, "Peter is the
nicest person at this table, even if he had Hulk's strength, he wouldn't even hurt a fly with it!"

Peter scrambled to sit next to Yelena, clutching Brook's hand nervously under the table as he
said in a high-pitched panicked voice, "I'm not him! I just busy with school, all the clubs, and
my Stark Internship. I get unlucky and never catch him on TV that's all!"

Harry's smirk turned feral as he leaned back on the bench, arms wound behind his head lazily.

That couldn't be good.

"Fine, then next time Spider-man comes on the news you better be within our sights. We all
have to witness you being here, not just Brook or Ned who were so quick to defend you and
could be covering for you!"

Well... crap.

Brooklyn knew as well as every person at this table with a hidden identity that they couldn't
risk people's safety like this by having Spider-man just not go help someone in need. If the
hero did not show up but others did, that could convincing enough to further Harry's
suspicion too.

Peter told her and Jon during Spanish class that once Harry took to something, he would not
back out from it, and neither would MJ now. He'd been frantic between muttering spanish
verbs and conjugations, worried MJ would hate him when she found out.

It was enough for Brooklyn and Jon to put their brains together during class to come up with
a solution. Or at least they did their best to try...

It hadn't helped that during Decathlon practice an hour later, trouble decided to arise when
they most hoped the day would stay silent.
*****

Harry had burst into the library just as the news on the TV beside their table showed the
scene of the crime.

Brook, Peter, and Ned were sitting on one side of the table, with MJ already looking up at the
TV with a raised brow. It seemed Harry wasn't the only one willing to risk punishment for
leaving practice as Tanya burst inside with pompoms still in hand.

Their Decathlon teacher had beheld the intruding students to the study session, but did not
make them leave, just turned back to try and make Flash understand that the team didn't need
new outfits.

"Well, no bathroom breaks for you my friend" Harry said to Peter, "You stay here until its
over....unless of course, you REALLY need to leave?"

Peter merely shook his head, but she could tell how tense his body was as his doe eyes locked
on the TV, where a man held three people at gunpoint above a building, urging them to jump
down to their deaths.

Everyone down below and in the class was waiting for Spider-man to show up, to save those
people at last.

As the seconds passed and no one showed, even the police below was getting anxious.

At this point Harry and MJ were looking worried, as if they finally realized that if Peter truly
was the hero, they were keeping him from saving those people.

Brooklyn knew how much his identity meant to Peter, how hard it was for him to just watch.
So she clutched his hand with her own under the table, wishing she could've solved this on
her own for his sake.

Just as the gunned man shouted something, one of the victims was pushed to the edge of the
building, and was then kicked off to fall eighty floors worth of a trip down to the concrete.

Brook and Peter couldn't help but stand at the sight, watching in horror as the man fell past
the rushing windows of the building.

He would die...

Or rather, he would've died.

Because in that moment, the camera showed a web attaching to the man's chest and head. The
webs pulled the suited man upwards and as the camera followed it showed the victim being
held in place by Spider-man's side as they swung to a nearby building.

The gathered crowds below the building were cheering, and even Flash stopped his argument
to watch the scene unfold with excitement.
At the table in the library, Harry, Tanya, and MJ stared back from the TV, to the still present
Peter a few times. It was unmistakable now, clear as day that their friend was not the hero on
screen.

There was nothing off about Spider-man either. He swung around the buildings as expertly as
always. After gathering the other two victims and swinging them to safety, the gun man was
not attacked, but simply webbed to the floor ready to be picked up by authorities.

The crowds cheered as Spider-man stood at the edge of the building where catastrophe
could've occurred. He gave one final salute to the crowds before jumping off, and swinging
away.

Brook and Peter were clearly trying not to look too wide eyed at the TV. In fact, Brook's
secret hold on Peter and Ned only lessed as Spider-man disappeared form the news cast.

Once she got her emotions back in check, she smugly looked at her friends across the table
with a raised brow.

"I-I told you it wasn't me" Peter said nervously, pointing at the TV with his pen.

Harry looked almost sorry for the accusation now, especially when Peter added, "Did you
guys want me to be him? I know I'm not cool or anything but-"

Tanya cut him off with a scoff, manicured nails reaching out to comb thought Peter's soft
brown hair soothingly.

"It doesn't matter that you aren't him. If anything Peter, you are like our group's Spider-man.
Someone kind and righteous, the hero of the group" Tanya said.

The table burst into cheerful agreements that made Peter blush.

Brooklyn couldn't help but laugh at her friends afterwards. Standing up from the table, Brook
shot Harry an amused smirk as she said "Now that that the nonsense theory is over with, I'm
going to the restroom, unless you guys think I'm Wonder Woman or something?"

Harry and Tanya threw a few erasers and paper balls her way as Brook ran out of the
classroom with a chuckle. On her way dow to the first floor, Brook made a quick stop to her
locker for her bag, smiling to herself now that Peter's identity crisis had been saved.

That person on TV couldn't have been Brook even when she had the training to pull it off,
unfortunately her very obvious female attributes would've given it all away, so Brook had
discarded her offer to fill in for Pete during Spanish class.

Yelena was friendlier to the group now a days, but she wouldn't have helped Peter even if she
didn't posses the same female problem as Brook. Even if she HAD offered, Yelena hadn't
been around Peter enough to know how to act as him properly.

Despite Jon's enthusiastic offer to help, he was ruled out too for physical attributes as well.
Though the suit could mold to the user, Jon's shoulders were much broader and his height
noticeably taller than Peter. Like Ned, they both did not posses the agility to swing around
buildings and make it look like they had done it forever.

That had left only one option for salvation.

As Brooklyn made her way down to the door at the end of a lonely hallway with bag in hand,
she couldn't help but still be surprised that he had agreed to help without too much
convincing.

Damian was easily the perfect choice to fill in, and after a long text during class, Damian had
been annoyed, but chose to ditch his after school activity to practice shooting webs out in a
nearby alley.

He must've still been practicing when the problem in the city arose. Brook had been so
nervous, not just that it would not look believable, but that in trying to pull it off, Damian
could get hurt.

But just as she'd predicted, Damian was easily able make it look realistic. He was closer to
Peter's height, and it had only taken him a short while to learn how to work the shooters
thanks to his experience swinging with his usual grappling hooks.

Dami's built strength over the years would help him hold on well, and fighting alongside
Peter for a while now, Damian knew what to do to make the performance compete. If it
weren't for his amazing work as Julian Capulet, Brook might've been surprised.

But it appeared there was one thing Damian had not had the time to practice, and that was
landing in tight spaces like the small emergency exit Brook stood by.

Spider-man came swinging up above, and in a move that wasn't as graceful as his earlier
performance, he tried to shoot out a few webs on the fire escape stairs up above, only for
them to get tangled somehow.

It did slow his descent, but also got Damian so tangled up in the webs that he descended with
flips and grunts of protest until he was hanging upsidedown with his face hanging by her
own.

Brook couldn't help but smile as he cursed the webs in hand, trying to wiggle out of the
restraining position to no avail as his masked eyes narrowed at her laughter.

With a final chuckle, Brook set down the black bag containing Damian's clothes and moved
to remove the mask from his face. Though he was upsidedown Brooklyn still couldn't help
but ruffle his black hair and stop to realize how weird it was seeing Damian under that mask
instead of Peter.

Those intense green eyes instead of the bright brown doe ones.

Fighting back another chuckle, Brook said "Not bad mt friend, though I give the landing a
7/10"
Damian grumbled, rolling his eyes as he cursed, "I hate these web shooters. And my landing
would've been better if that stupid railing hadn't gotten in the way."

Despite her amusement, Brooklyn couldn't help the softening of her tone as she said, "I can't
believe you did all that for Peter, he was really freaking out earlier"

Still hanging upside down, Damian did not seem the least bit bothered by it. His gaze was
locked on her own, eyes turning to look at the wall while he mumbled, "You know I didn't do
it for Parker...I did it because he could've blown all our covers once his shattered to pieces"

Theoretically that was right, but a far reach of a claim to make. No, Damian had done this for
other reasons, other than the survival of their secrets. He had to have in order to agree to do
all this!

With a sight, Brooklyn merely went back to running her hand through his hair gently as she
said, "I suppose I should thank you regardless"

Damian's small half-smile met her own as he mused, "It would only be polite, my beloved"

Though Brooklyn thought it might be difficult to accomplish, given that she'd always
struggled with the act of expressing thanks, she was pleasantly surprised at how easy the
words came to her, even Damian seemed taken aback by the sincerity of her thanks.

In the silence that followed, Brooklyn scrambled for something else to say, which was never
difficult when Damian was around, especially when he was in such a peculiar situation as
this.

Eyes locked on the freckles on his caramel skin, Brooklyn said cheekily, "Complain all you
want, but the suit actually looks good on you. Though I think I like the Robin suit better on
you"

Damian huffed, eyes trained back on her own as he asked, "Really? Is it because now I'm
dressed as an actual loved hero rather than an occasionally despised vigilante of Gotham?"

Brooklyn blinked slowly a few times.

How could he think of himself that way? How could Damian, who had helped save as may
people as Brook had, many more in fact, still think of himself as a guy fighting the law to do
what was right? How could he see wrong in himself?

He could be closed off and insufferable at times, but he wasn't a bad person.

"I like the Robin suit better" Brook said earnestly, cutting all teasing from her voice as she
added, "I don't care what the world thinks about Robin, those ungrateful bastards can say all
they want, but I think you are a hero as much as Peter is, otherwise you wouldn't have been
able to pull all this off"

Damian's eyes widened ever so slightly, and even thought his face was still passive, his words
held some care as he replied, "No matter. This suit IS unbelievably tight, I never want to wear
it again"
Even with the serious tone, Brooklyn found it only made the statement even more funny.

She couldn't help herself, Brook relented back a step to see how the suit molded to his fit
body perfectly. Tight it may be, but it did not look bad at all...you know, from a friendly
judgmental perspective.

"You may not have your eldest brother's ass, but you could still make quite a few girls faint in
that" she joked, but moved back to stand closer to him, only for his free hand to yank a piece
of her hair for the silly comment.

"Is this why you favor Parker so much?" Damian asked quietly, "You find his attributes while
wearing the suit attractive?"

Oh right....Damian had caught Brook red handed when she let her emotions slip ever so
silently during the play fittings. It had been a miracle Damian hadn't brought it up to make
fun of her earlier than today.

It wasn't often that Brook pondered on those odd emotions she had towards Peter. Even with
Yelena and Natasha aware of them, they had not teased Brooklyn nearly as much as they
could've recently.

Maybe it was because Natasha was far too busy trying to keep her affection from Grandpa
Steve's eyes, and perhaps Yelena had grown used to seeing the Stark and Peter interact as
friends at school to push it aside.

But Damian was observant, and Brooklyn supposed that as friends, maybe hiding the
shameful emotions she felt for Peter, the betrayal to MJ's friendship, were safe to share after
all.

As Brook took out her vibranium dagger, she began cutting off the excess webs that would
make getting him down a more complicated matter. They did not shift his body out of place,
so she was able to speak to him face to face.

"I've actually never noticed how Peter looks in the suit. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure
what I feel for him anyways. I've never had any sort of emotional interest in a person
romantically, those kinds of emotions are still foreign for me to decipher. But people seem to
think I do see Peter as more than a friend" she confessed, freeing Damian's tied up arm at
last.

Damian was silent for a few seconds, but eventually replied, "Assassins aren't supposed to
love, we were never taught to, so I suppose I will not be of any assistance to you there. I
think emotions are the only things my siblings are actually superior at than me"

Brook smiled, "Of course it's the only thing. Maybe you should ask them for advice in my
behalf?I doubt my family would want me to talk about that stuff with them since they think
I'm still to precious to be with any boy until I'm at least seventy years old"

Just as Brooklyn moved to cut a higher piece of web, she hadn't quite realized how much
closer that would bring their bodies, not while she was too busy joking. In seconds,
Brooklyn's nose came in contact with Damian's, just the faintest of motions that made the tips
of their noses meet.

The single touch was startling enough that Brook accidentally dropped her dagger, and as she
dared to look down upon Damian's green eyes, she was glad to see he didn't seem
uncomfortable or angry. Just...still.

As Brook made to back away, maybe apologize while she fetched her dagger, Damian's free
hands came up to rest at her cheeks, fingers grazing her ears. Though she hadn't the faintest
of clues as to why, Brook finally felt soothed and relaxed after days of worrying over lives
lost, criminals on the loose, or identities in jeopardy.

It had been a while since she and Damian had been able to share any form of friendly
embrace, since they were both so busy keeping appearances and such. The last time Brooklyn
had felt his reassuring touch was the day of the bomb, when he bid Brook farewell in that
ambulance with a quick caress of her cheeks were the faintest of traces of tears shed still
remained.

But some silly part of her brain recalled the night they slept in the same bed at the Farm
House, or the night she held Damian close when his eyes snapped open from what Brook had
feared to be death...she also recalled the time his cologne and mint scent had filled her senses
that day at the mall, when their noses had touched similarly to the way they did now.

The day they shared a kiss for the sake of survival.

Though the memory of that sometimes decided to invade her thoughts, mostly when she had
the unfortunate pleasure to see Harry kissing a girl in the halls or when she watched a movie
with Tanya (one of the romantic films she loved so much), she had yet to consider that event
now that they were friends.

Damian, her forbidden friend, had been Brooklyn's first kiss, and she his own.

Overtime Brook had learned from Tanya that a first kiss was important, a memory people
treasured for the rest of their lives as something specially fond that would never go away.

At times like now, Brooklyn wanted to just...

"Damian?" she whispered, earning a delayed hum from him as his hands pushed back some
of her red hair.

Deciding it was too late to back out now, Brook asked, "Do you ever think about that day at
the mall, of your first kiss?"

Damian's hands went still on her cheeks.

When he said nothing, the Stark added, "I'm sorry your first kiss had to be like that, under a
circumstance where you had no choice to find a suitable parter you genuinely cared about.
That I ruined that memory for you"
The Wayne was still silent, but his hands moved to get Brook to relent a step so they could
look at one another at last. His eyes were not sharp as usual, but guarded in a sense as he
asked, "You had equally as little choice as I had, do you regret having a Wayne as your
first...your first kiss with another individual?"

Brook felt many things when she thought back on that day, so many emotions that she
couldn't really pinpoint them separately. But regret had never been one of them, not even as
she learned of the importance of a first kiss.

Damian was her friend, someone she trusted, even to some degree back when they were still
enemies. Trust was not easy to come by, not for Brook. Maybe thats why she hadn't minded
the kiss that had left her breathless. At least it hadn't been with a stranger, someone who had
no real idea who they were truly kissing.

The Wayne knew all she was and had not flinched away from it, he'd still chosen to be her
friend regardless.

When Brook shook her head, she almost let out a sight of relief when Damian said, eyes on
the wall behind her, "There is nothing to feel bad about then since I don't feel regret of my
own either. It's just another thing that makes us similar"

It was. They were one another's first kiss. Another secret to take to the grave in that sense.

Brooklyn was not sure she'd ever be able to kiss another person again, with her circumstances
and all, but at least now she knew her friend was not disgusted or angry by it. It would not be
a thorn in their friendship at any point from now on.

Maybe it was because they had shared yet another deeply personal conversation, something
that always seemed to happen between them. Perhaps that is why Brooklyn moved forward
again, and careful to mind his personal distaste for touching other people, Brook moved to
cup his cheeks the way he had with her.

He did not thrash away, just succumbed to the touch of affection both of them were at least
comfortably with amongst one another. She took a few seconds to feel the breathing from his
nose, reminding herself that Damian was alive.

And in an act of complete stupidity, clearly too idiotic to stop and think on her actions, she
leaned her red tinted lips by his nose, hovering them there to see if her friend would lean
back...but he did not.

So she kissed his nose. A long brush of her lips against the soft skin of his own.

Why she did it? No clue. Was it stupid and embarrassing? YES.

Yet Damian said nothing as she pulled back, noticing that like her own, his eyes were closed.

"Thank you for helping" Brooklyn whispered, almost pleased to see Damian nod. But being
upside down was perhaps stating to affect him, all the blood from his body was already
accumulating in his cheeks by now, tinting them as colored as the lipstick mark at the tip of
his nose.

Fighting back a chuckle of seeing the great and mighty Damian Wayne like that, she ushered
him to bring his hands together above his head so she could be hoisted up to help him down.
As always, their teamwork proved successful, and Brook as able to cut down most of the
webs.

There was one web that was wound a certain way. When Brook set it loose, they both went
hurling to the ground. In an effort to spare Damian from hitting the ground face first, she
quickly wound her body in seconds so she could take the blow with her side instead. But
Damian had seemed equally as concerned with their fall, because he moved his body as well
to protect her own, sending them into a heaping mess of tangled limbs that hit the concrete
below with shared force.

When Brook's scream and Damian's grunt died out with the feel of the pavement, the girl
opened her eyes to see the Wayne in the Spider-man suit beside her as they cradled one
another's heads from the impact.

It was amusing how they'd used their precious seconds to try and save one another, enough
for Brooklyn to break out into faint chuckles as her friend relented a small smile.

"Nice job freeing me" Damian said sarcastically, moving atop her body so they could
untangle their legs. Her blue heels must've been digging awfully to his legs...

Thats when the door opened, the impact sending the shattered pieces of webs hanging above
crashing down onto the two teens as they froze like deer caught in headlights.

But it was only Peter that came through the door, eyes wide until he realized they weren't
trying to kill one another after all as the position suggested.

In seconds, Peter began uttering apologies as he discarded all the webs from them, mostly
from Damian's back. When Peter tried to help though, Damian flinched away from Peter's
touch with a scowl, which ended up sending a pile of webs onto Brook's face.

It took a while, but amidst Peter's apologies and some teamwork from the two ex-assassins,
they managed to get back up on their feet at last.

Brooklyn was frowning at the wrinkled state of her baby-blue blouse, working to soften the
creases on her jeans as Damian fished small web strings from his black hair.

"I'm so sorry you had to do all this! I'm sorry you fell!" Peter said for the fifth time, "I
should've been more specific about the textile strength and rigidity ratio for these small
spaces! Not that you aren't smart enough to figure it out yourself, I fell quite a few times my
first tries and-"

Damian cut Peter off with a glare.

 "Just let me take this suit off and give it back. I never want to wear it again" he grumbled,
which was Brook's cue to hand over the bag and leave the alley for a while.

When she and Peter where making to leave, the brown eyed boy stared at Damian with a
raised brow.

"You have sometime red on your nose, Damian" Peter said, pointing at the tip of his own
nose, then with a little panic he added,"Did you get hurt?!"

Damian looked away then wiping his nose furiously with his palm as he merely commanded
them to leave him to change. Brooklyn felt a small smile growing, and had to go to the
bathroom to fix her lipstick back into place.

Peter had thankfully not realized what happened, he'd just been grateful for all the help for
the rest of the day.

When it was time to go home, Damian dropped them off as usual, with Jon shouting
complements from the back seat towards his best friend for his performance. Even Brooklyn
found herself nodding a few times when Jon went into specifics about the execution of the
job, which he'd been able to see on a teammate's phone apparently.

As the black Porsche pulled up by the cluster of buildings Brook called home, she watched
Peter exit the back seat with Jon in tow to move to the passenger's spot. She took that brief
moment to look at her friend, almost smiling when she noticed a bit o faint red was still on
his nose from her lipstick.

After quickly wiping it away with her thumb privately thanks to the tinted windows, she
joked, "Crumbs, ice cream...must I always take care of your appearance?"

Damian clutched the steering wheel with a frown, "Very funny, my beloved"

With that, Brooklyn smiled as she excited the car, watching it fade into the distance, feeling
lighter than she had in days.

Maybe the world wasn't perfect, maybe she wasn't either, but at least Damian would be there
to make her laugh every now and then...

Then the gates to her home opened, and Brooklyn and Peter made their way inside knowing
full well Agent Johansen would be notified of their timely return. They certainly joked about
it as the gates closed behind them, allowing them back into the safety of their home.

Chapter End Notes

I always had this scene in my head of the well known Spider-man kiss from the movies
when he was hanging upside-down, some of you must know what I'm talking about. It
was always funny to me because I never actually saw Peter in that scene, nor did I see a
passionate kind of kiss. I saw nothing but a huge emotion of joy, a moment of complete
trust.
Hope you liked it! Damian will certainly never let me put him in a Spider-man suit ever
again...

Also has anyone else watched the Justice League Snyder cut? Gotta say, all opinions are
valid here...but I personally thing it was an improvement.

*virtual claps*
 Asking for a Friend
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Damian POV-

"I don't know why you're being so persistent about such a foolish event" Damian said, getting
out of the car and placing the keys on the hangar by the door leading to the living room with
Jon in tow.

Jon threw his backpack on the couch, not loosing his stride as he continued pestering Damian
all the way to his room.

"You don't get it! I know you've never been to a dance, but they are very important teenage
events! I have to do this right if I want to ask Yelena to the dance, especially since she
probably doesn't like those kinds of events either, but I want her to get a chance to have fun
and enjoy life a little" Jon said, collapsing dramatically on the bed.

He was lucky Alfred took Titus to the vet, otherwise he would been puppy chow by now.

Damian chose to settle on his desk, frowning at the Wayne Enterprises work he'd yet to
complete after a long day at school. But it would have to get finished before tomorrow since
he and Jon had patrols to do in Queens.

Setting down the documents in hand, Damian turned to his whining friend who was fisting
the red flannel on his chest in despair.

"I don't understand why you're so keen to spend time with Belova. Must I remind you that
despite her good behavior recently, she almost sent the Stark to a fate worst than death?"
Damian said, leaning back on the plush work chair.

Jon looked up from his despair then, laying on his chest and swaying legs in the air as he
replied, "Not her best moment, but she'd trying to change! Plus, she can be really funny when
she wants to be, and she even told me that if I ever tried to kill her, that she would end me
quickly and painlessly! Last week she promised eternal pain! That's progress!"

Damian debated slamming his head repeatedly on the mahogany desk beside him.

Trying his best to summon as much patience as possible, Damian sighed loudly before
replying, "And you presume this Yule dance is the next logical step to get the girl to retract
her will to kill you. How foolish"

Jon smirked then.

"You're just grumpy because every guy in school is planning on asking Brooklyn Stark to the
dance and you don't have the guts to do it yourself" Jon said smugly.
Damian was struck in surprise for a few seconds. Yes, he had heard various students
muttering about their fool proof plans to get Damian's beloved to go to the dance with them.
Some guys in his classes had fantasized rather loudly about their perfect scenarios, dancing
with the red-headed Stark like some kind of fairytale.

He'd been somewhat disgusted then, giving each guy who even brought something like that
up in a whisper with a glare to quiet them. It was the logical thing to do, they were
disrespecting his friend after all.

But sometimes Damian wondered who the Stark would say yes to. Her rowdy friends had
made her swear during lunch that she would attend this as her first dance, and Brooklyn had
been forced to relent.

Somewhere deep inside, the Wayne knew she might wait for an invitation from Parker, that
she might even long for it. Since she'd expressed her confusion over such emotions, Damian
had been keeping a close eye, noticing that Parker was indeed nothing more than a useless
fool.

Parker was infatuated with Michelle Jones of all people, that much as obvious even for a guy
like him. It was Jones who Parker intended to ask, whom he fretted over during patrols as he
asked Jon for advice.

Damian could tell Brooklyn was slightly upset by that, but not once had she shown her
distress to anyone else. It made the Wayne angry, furious that a plain guy such as Parker
could think of another woman when Brooklyn clearly had some questionable want to go with
him to the dance.

It made him seethe when Parker clutched her hand like it was nothing, when Parker gave her
a pat on the back after a long patrol without knowing the array of scars that lay nearby on his
beloved's back.

But...he'd never intended to ask Brooklyn to such an event, mostly because Damian did not
WANT to attend.

Why would Jon think so then?

"I'm not sure what you're talking about. Why would I ask my nemesis to a dance of such low
caliber, why ask her of all people?" Damian questioned, playing with a pen in hand as Jon
began to chuckle.

"Don't think I haven't noticed my best friend shooting lingering gazes at Brooklyn. Even if
she is your enemy, I don't think anyone would blame you for thinking she is beautiful" Jon
said casually, making the Wayne glad no one was home today to hear such a statement.

Though Damian hadn't let the thoughts linger for too long, he couldn't deny the fact that
Brooklyn Stark was very much a beauty. Not necessarily when she was on the cover of
magazines or dressed in expensive finery at interviews, her true iridescence was only noticed
by him when his beloved was just herself.
When Brooklyn came into school with her casual attire, when he'd beheld her at home those
few times in the past, in sweats and large t-shits...there was something about that raw
simplicity that made Damian realize why the world seemed too keen to call her a beauty
amongst a sea of lesser beings.

"What do physical attributes have to do with the dance?" Damian asked irritably.

Jon looked as if he might bolt from the large bed, he was already clutching the silk grey
sheets like a lifeline as he bounced on the mattress.

"Oh my dear friend! Your cluelessness astounds me to this day! You just admitted to
Brooklyn being beautiful!" Jon shouted, causing Alfred the cat's arrival to pause as the feline
beheld the spectacle by the door, then promptly left as if not wanting to have anything to do
with it.

Damian wasn't quite catching on to Jon's enthusiasm, in fact, he was tempted to throw a
dagger at his smirking friend right about now.

"Everyone thinks she is of higher than average beauty, your statement does not make the least
amount of sense, plus I never uttered the words, you are saying what you want to say"
Damian argued, arms crossed.

With a roll of his blue eyes, Jon made to sit on the bed, then slowly as if to get Damian to
understand, the boy added, "Yes, that's all true. But you don't find anyone attractive, not until
today! That's huge! So you should ask her while you still can, you saw how her locker is
filling up with flowers from everyone recently. People are dying to ask Brooklyn to the dance
left and right, and girls like her don't stay single forever"

Single....

That word was peculiar. Yes, Damian knew that logically speaking, Brooklyn would one day
find someone to mate with or at least fool around with like her father and Damian's own
father had done in their youths. He knew that Parker or no, his beloved would become more
and more in tone with her emotions that one day someone would tickle her fancy and....and
he'd never given any serious thought to that.

As her friend, should Damian stand and watch? Likely not, it would be imperative to make
sure the guy was good enough for Brooklyn, that he would not harm her in any way.

But just the thought of Brooklyn walking in the halls hand in hand with a stranger like the
other paired students in school, that she would fornicate with someone by the lockers...that
she would share a kiss with lips that were not Damian's own like that day at the mall...it
seemed wrong.

It was wrong, likely because he knew for a fact no guy in that pathetic school was good
enough. They were all hormonal beasts with little maturity and small brains that would not
even be able to comprehend the complexities of assassin teachings.
A feeling in his chest caved, that same uncomfortable sensation that made him want to
scream thanks to the discomfort. But as always, Damian pushed it down, calmed his
breathing, and replied with a leveled voice, "I'm not sure you understand the concept Jon, but
a nemesis does not ask another to a dance. It defeats the purpose of the animosity between
one another"

Jon's mouth dropped in disbelief, and he collapsed back on the bed with a groan.

That's when steps down the hall resonated, and in seconds, his siblings peered into Damian's
bedroom without permission. They were still in their suits, weapons in hand from patrols, but
looked relaxed for once.

Barbara was amongst them, in casual clothes but she was walking on her own thanks to the
brace from Brooklyn.

As if there was no concept of privacy or personal space, the herd of them rushed into the
room with greetings for Jon, settling around Damian's room with the excuse of wanting to
spend some brotherly time together.

Damian felt his eyebrow twitch, his patience thinning as everyone settled on the bed and the
couch like they owned the place.

When Dick asked Jon about school, Damian was ready to groan in annoyance at the mention
of the stupid dance, the one guys were gushing to ask Brooklyn to for less than honorable
purposes.

Jon had always gotten along with everyone, especially Dick and Drake.

It was likely why Jon had no shame in admitting he was trying to ask a girl to the dance but
was finding his nerves to be insufficient.

"Jon! You can lift a bus with your hand! How is asking this girl something difficult?"
Stephanie said, propping her legs atop Drake's body on the couch.

Jon's face turned a shade brighter along his fair cheeks.

"She's super cool and I'm just...well I'm just me" he said, to which Damian added, "Not to
mention its a ridiculous idea considering she's an assassin!"

From his place leaning on the bed, Jason Todd's amused smirk vanished, and he leaned
forward to ask Jon almost seriously, "You want to ask the Stark to the dance?"

The room of giggles and excited whoops went quiet then, eyes sharply on Jon as if the
previous friendship they showed him was gone. Damian had not forgotten the distaste his
family had for any and all Starks, but it still managed to anger him slightly.

Even Dick's lazy grin had disappeared as he clutched Jon's arms, gaze cold and calculating
Damian's eldest brother only showed when facing an enemy on the field.
"You want to ask Brooklyn Stark? You like her?" Dick asked, and the mention of such words,
imagining Jon and Brooklyn...even when Jon was more acceptable than most people in the
world, the idea made Damian want to go downstairs and train until his muscles ached.

Jon was very friendly with Brooklyn, always gave her quick hugs because she would not
accept anything else. Damian got long hugs from her though.

Yet, Jon Kent always managed to make her laugh during patrols. He always beheld the Stark
with some form of adoration Damian had not even thought to consider. He knew this talk was
about Belova, but Jon clearly thought Brooklyn was beautiful as well, at least to an extent.

If given the chance, would Jon choose to ask Brooklyn to the dance?

Those thoughts were pushed away when Jon laughed, mentioning he was trying to ask
'Brooklyn's cousin', the other assassin father had spoken about to everyone after the events of
the bomb at school.

The air in the room relaxed then, and smiles slowly returned with encouragements towards
Jon's mission.

"Maybe I'll give it a go" Jon said finally, eyes bright with hope as he added, "I just wish
Damian would go. There is a girl he should totally ask, in fact, I've heard many girls at school
eager for Damian to ask them. Some are even thinking of asking him from what I heard"

Fools.

Foolish girls for thinking Damian would want to spend time with them.

Damian's siblings seemed intrigued by the information, all of them inching closer as Jason
asked smugly, "Now who does the little demon have a crush on then?"

Crush. The only thing Damian crushed was his enemies, leaving nothing but pain and gore
behind.

"I'm not familiar with the carnal emotion of longing for another person. It seems like a waste
of time if Stephanie and Drake are anything to go by"

Both siblings mentioned rolled their eyes, but as if to prove a point, they inched closer to one
another in what must be a lover's embrace. Disgusting.

Dick moved from the beside to take a seat on Damian's neat desk, even when Damian glared
up at him, his brother did not move as he looked down at him with kind eyes.

"I forget you're not very familiar with emotions. Maybe I can shed some light on that topic,
being a married man and all" Dick offered, quietly and slowly as if he were afraid Damian
would bolt out of the room.

He was about to deny needing any help until he remembered Brooklyn's teasing words about
gaining information from Damian's siblings on the subject of crushes since she was clueless
on the fact.
Damian had never intended on asking any of his siblings about this, but perhaps he could
gain some knowledge to share with Brooklyn tonight when they talked.

So his frown deepened, and he ignored the large smirks from the others as he motioned for
Dick to continue, but Damian still insisted this was for Jon's benefit since he could learn from
that in his clearly tragic romantic endeavors.

******

Richard Grayson (Wayne) POV-

There was no way, this was too good to be true!

It was as if the gods had created the perfect scenario to bring crush talk to the usually closed
off Damian.

The knowledge of a high school dance taking place was perfect, and it made Dick excited just
thinking about it. Now that he and his siblings wouldn't have to kill Jon for getting in the way
of their ship, Dick only had to worry about sharing this knowledge in a way that wouldn't
make Damian angry or uncomfortable.

But it was happening at last, and he could sense the excitement from his siblings as they felt
the same joy from this unexpected event.

Trying to calm his beating heart, Dick said towards his youngest brother, "Well, I suppose we
should start from the basics of teen crushes and all that" he mused.

"Just as our bodies grow as we get older, so do our feelings, little D. They change and mature
as we become preteens, teenagers, and adults. A crush is a word used to describe special
feelings you have for another person, a classmate, or friend that you really like" he said, and
once he noticed Damian didn't so much a frown at the words, it was safe to say they could
continue.

From the couch, Stephanie added cautiously, "Crushes are a little bit like the romantic love
adults feel toward one another. And in a way, a crush can help us think about the kind of
person that we want to love when we grow up. They help us understand which qualities we
notice and like in another person — and maybe a few that we don't like"

Dick almost saw the wheels turning in Damian's head, as if he was trying to make sense of it
all the way one would about a foreign language or a science problem.

Barbara was braiding Stephanie's blonde hair on the couch, and she did not look up from her
work as she added, "You can't choose your crushes, Damian. Sometimes they sneak up on
you.You might feel shy or giddy or maybe even shy and giddy all at once! Some people can't
remember what they want to say when they see their crush. They feel speechless, or tongue-
tied"

Dick and Barbara had dated once upon a time, long before he'd fallen for his wife, but he
couldn't help but wonder if that's how Barbara had felt around him, she certainly never
showed it.

Beside Barbara, Tim was already smirking, and after a gulp from the thermos in hand full of
the blackest coffee, Dick's brother added smugly, "Or, some kids might chase their crushes
around the playground, call them on the phone, or tease them to get attention"

Smooth Tim...real smooth.

Damian scowled at that, " It still seems unreasonable. You all might be insane"

Thankfully, Cassandra was here, leaning by the door and coming to the rescue with a way for
Damian to understand the way only another fellow ex-assassin could explain.

"Feelings of a crush and feelings of love release the mood-boosting hormones dopamine and
oxytocin to the brain. When you see a potential mate, whether it's a total stranger, an
acquaintance, or a partner, your brain also activates its cognitive network, the region that
holds our past experiences, preferences, and self-image. Crushes are not love, they tend to
come quick and become nothing more than an obsession. Love is a slow development, but
equally as out of our control"

How did she even know that!? Was there someone Cass loved?

Well...that was a lot of words Dick did not understand. How did Cass manage to make
affection sound so serious and scary?

Damian stood from his chair, moving over to the large window as he asked,"So Jon's crush
on Belova is not love, therefore useless?"

Dick felt minor panic as he said, "Crushes come before love sometimes!"

Cassandra scoffed, once again moving forward to explain with dagger in hand, "Vasopressin
is a chemical that has been associated with the formation of long-term, monogamous
relationships, which is described as love. Oxytocin and vasopressin interfere with the crush
dominant hormones of dopamine and norepinephrine, which might explain why passionate
love fades as attachment grows"

Damian seemed to consider the words, even when Dick and seemingly everyone else in the
room aside from Tim was still trying to piece the fancy words together.

Dick appreciated the more...sciency aspect of the definition, but he needed Damian to
understand in a way that was not logical or scientific, something that truly showed the beauty
of it all, that let Damian know it was ok to open up to someone.

Steeling his nerves, Dick stood from the table and said, "Think of it as a crush coming in fast
like a passing train, goes away in like a month. It's more about the idea of the person, based
strictly on physical attributes most of the time"

Damian nodded once, giving Dick the green light to add, "Love is a little scarier in a sense.
Whether you are in a relationship or not, love doesn't go away after a couple of months, or
because you realize the person flawed. When you truly love someone, we see their flaws, and
we accept them. Love is open and honest. Love is wanting to share hope, dreams, and fears,
and hear about their own. Love is when you only have eyes for that person. If your eyes
wander, then you are not in love"

Stephanie clapped excitedly and added her own wisdom, "Dick's right you know. But love is
also willing to sacrifice for those we love and put their wants and needs before our own. Love
is willing to be inconvenienced, bored, and patient for the one who means the most, NO
MATTER HOW ILLOGICAL!"

That last part was no doubt a jab at Damian's usual way of thinking, putting logic above all
else.

But where was the logic in bringing a Stark to your house to go over lines? Where was the
logic in getting drunk with that person and go to your enemie's house? Damian needed to
look past logic, or at least acknowledge that he was already doing that.

To everyone's surprise, Jason cleared his throat. Though he was leaning dangerously
comfortably on Damian's bed, he had his arms behinds head, relaxed as ever with his helmet
and the ridiculous mask he liked to wear under it for jokes and giggles beside him.

"Its not difficult to understand, demon. When you see their face, or hearing their voice...it can
turn your whole day around, instantly improve your mood. No matter what anyone says or
does, you'd go to hell and back just to hear their voice, something your family would not
understand and obviously did not teach you"

Ok, maybe it was a mistake bringing up Damian's mom. Jason had done it on purpose that
son of a bitch!

Damian's usual cold anger returned then as he rushed over to the bed side, holding Jason
suspended in the air by the neck of his suit.

"You have an opinion on my mother, say it to my face" Damian said, "Since you slept with
her, you must know a great deal"

Dick felt like he should intervene, but Jason was not looking as smug now nor was he
panicked even when they knew Damian was more than able to stab him for the insult.
Everyone had stood up form their relaxed positions, but Dick held Jon back with a hand on
his shoulder, wanting to see why Jason would bring up Talia now of all times.

His brother was an idiot, but not always stupid.

"I know that Talia is the only person you think showed love to someone else, that she loved
Bruce for maybe more than just the perfect offspring. You need to get that shit out of your
head if you're gonna learn to care for someone one day, or you'll end up as tragically as that
'love story' of theirs"

Damian's hold tightened slightly, but Jason added with a small ferocity in his voice, "What
Talia displayed and likely talked to you about was selfish in its essence. The everlasting and
mushy love, on the other hand, is selfless. Love means wanting the best for the other person,
Talia clearly never thought of Bruce's needs or wants once, not as she drugged him. That shit
that Stephanie and Tim have for one another, and Dick for Kori, that's full compassion and
understanding and comes without terms and conditions. When you find someone that will
turn a blind eye to your worst mistakes and transgressions, it will set you free"

When Damian's hold went slack, Jason merely fell against the pillows.

"Don't go out there looking for the best match for you like your mother did. Even if it doesn't
seem right, if you find someone patient, understanding, forgiving, and feel a desire for a
deeper connection, then to hell with that Bruce or the League think, you will fight them all
for it and you'd only be a fool if you don't, an emotionally stunned fool like your family who
only ever cared about power"

Shit...

Damian's eyes were wide as he stared at the floor, his chest panting as if he were trying to
calm down.

"What makes you think someone like me can offer love then? If you seem to think my
mother is incapable of it?" Damian asked Jason with a glare.

Jason went back to his relaxed posture on the bed, looking up at the chandelier on the ceiling
as he said almost annoyed, "Obviously you are not Talia, otherwise you'd be back at the
League instead of wondering what emotions are here. I've never liked you, but even I can tell
you have potential to be better than Ra's al Ghul, otherwise I would've killed you already"

Even though those words were harsh, Damian did not seem upset or angry. For once since
this conversation began, he seemed to relax ever so slightly.

Now that Jason had done his part, helpful or not Dick still wasn't sure, the elsest decided to
shift to encouraging Damian to understand his value instead.

Perhaps that would given him three confidence to ask the Stark to the dance.

"Look little D, you have a lot to offer a partner. You're strong, you're smart- " he said only to
be interrupted by Steph who said, "You're good most things-"

Barbara smirked, and interrupted with her own words of encouragement, "You like animals,
girls like that!"

Even Cassandra piped in with a quick, "You're strong beyond anyone your age too!"

Then the three girls turned hot and angry expectant stares towards Tim, as if urging him to
say something. Tim was mid-sip, but hesitantly said, "I guess you have a respectable future as
a CEO, that has to mean something right?"

After a slap on the head from Steph, Tim just went back to his coffee as the girl's
disappointed glares turned to Jason.
"Oh, did you want me to say something?" Jason said, placing a hand under his cheek as if lost
in thought, then said," Well, you have dark hair, your name is Damian, you have green eyes-"

Dick face-palmed, but moved to stand beside a stiff standing Damian. Gently Dick patted the
youngest on the back quickly, then added, "What he means to say is that girls think you're
hot. Which is not a temperature thing, you're just good-looking so relax"

Jon jumped atop the bed then, smirking down at everyone as he said, "They are completely
right! Which is why I'm gonna ask Yelena and you should ask...well, you know who. Jason's
right, we wouldn't care what anyone thinks, not even our parents. That dance is about having
fun!"

Damian was clearly trying to hide his wide eyes, something Dick hoped meant the youngest
had connected the dots of his feelings.

Dick might've thought Damian just had a crush on the Stark a few days ago, just a wanting
something you can't have kind of thing. But he knew Damian, and he knew love, and there
was something oddly innocent and precious between the Stark and Wayne that Dick had
almost been able to feel, not just that day at the mansion, but during that school play.

They were something oddly special, and Dick thought he might not even begin to know the
half of it yet. He could only hope that someone Jon was talking about was the Stark after all.

With that odd talk out of the way, Damian went back to his seat, grumbling things under his
breath as he began sorting through the papers at his table rather harshly.

"Fine! We'll go to the ridiculous gathering like fools, but not for something as ridiculous as a
crush or love. Perhaps I will go with a companion so the event is not so unbearable, but if I
hear another word about this from any of you, I won't go at all" Damian warned, and it took
everything in Dick not to collapse to his knees and cry in victory.

He shared a quick smirk with all his brothers, one Jon seemed to notice but none deigned to
acknowledge.

This was going perfect to plan. Damian and Brooklyn would got to the dance together, they
would get to know each other more, bond with assassin things and all. Then once they
became the best of friends, Damian would realize he had a crush, and hopefully he wouldn't
be a crowd about it and confess.

Dick felt like grinning madly at the thought. It was all going according to the plan they did
not plan when they planed their plans. It was a tongue twister, but it was working in their
favor.

As the group went downstairs for a quick meal, with Jon and Damian in tow, they found
Alfred and Titus making their way back inside.

Alfred had the twenty or so restraints in hand that it took to keep Titus from killing his
veterinarians.
Judging by the dog's frown, he was incredibly angry from the visit.

One growl later, everyone, including Jon, moved as far away from Damian as possible so
Titus would not attack. Just as the dog made to walk beside his master, the doors to the living
room opened, and the Justice league and Titans walked through.

They had been at a meeting with the Avengers today, one Dick and his siblings missed to
keep Gotham safe. But as soon as Dick saw his wife, he welcomed her embrace with joy. He
couldn't wait to tell her what had happened today, she'd be so happy.

Such a talk would have to wait as everyone made their way to the large dinning room where a
feast slowly made its way inside.

Dick was sitting between Starfire and Raven, both looking famished. Damian and Titus sat on
the chairs before them, with Jon on Damian's other side. The Justice League sat by Bruce's
side of the table while Beast Boy took the seat between Raven and Selena at the other end of
the table.

As far as meals went, this one had not started with any sort of fighting. Apparently the
meeting had gone well just as Dick's plan had. Everyone was in high spirits, well except for
Raven who never seemed to be, and Damian who looked too lost in thought to care about
much.

Dick was almost too lost in his own euphoria, sneaking knowing glances of victory between
his siblings, to notice Clark had asked his son about school.

Jon proudly explained he intended to ask someone to an upcoming school dance, something
to just relish being a normal teen at. Everyone seemed happy for him, even more so when Jon
carefully worded that he'd convinced Damian to go.

"Who are you asking to the dance son? That girl you've been talking about at home?" Clark
asked politely. Of course Jon had told his dad about his crush on the assassin....

"Yeah!" Jon said enthusiastically, earning proud smile form Superman.

It was Diana that asked who Damian was taking, to which Damian replied boringly that he'd
asked no one yet. Smart move, making Bruce think Damian would not ask anyone to begin
with.

Diana beamed then, leaning forward on the table as she said, "Well, I think its a great idea
that you're willing to go to a school dance. Like Jon said, its important for you kids to just be
teenagers sometimes"

Beast Boy, the other teen in the room chuckled, "I'm going to a school dance at Xavier's! Its
great that we all get to go have fun for once! I even got a great date that can make worms rise
out of the ground, how amazing is that?" he saif, then sheepishly turned his green face
towards the other teen beside him.
Raven did not seem bothered anything as she munched on her fool quietly, occasionally
moving food around absentmindedly.

The sight must've triggered some of that goodie-to-shoes stuff Diana seemed to have in bulk
inside her soul, because she effectively ruined Dick's day by saying, "Perhaps you should
take Raven to the dance Damian. It would be nice for her to experience a dance of her own as
well"

No.

That quickly, the table of adults burst into agreement, even when Raven's cheeks reddened
and Damian looked like he was gonna snap the table in half with his bare hands.

Beside Diana, Bruce was contemplating the situation past the shouts of agreement from the
Justice League. Dick knew his father well enough to know what was going through his head.
That Damian would never get caught dead going to a dance with someone, but out of
everyone Bruce knew, Raven was likely the only girl his age that the young teen could not
kill.

He had a soft spot for broken kids, hence the reason Dick and his siblings were even in this
mansion in the first place. But right now was not the time for that!

It was too late though, B's voice resonated across the room as he commanded to Damian,
"Raven has been working hard these past few days, I think she could use a break from it all as
well. Damian, you will take her to Midtown as your partner, and you will not ruin her first
high school experience while doing so. You are a Wayne, thus you are capable of being
gentleman at least once in your life"

The half-demon girl did not look like she hated the idea of getting away from missions for a
while, of maybe Dick's thoughts from days ago had been correct and Raven did have some
small feelings for Damian after all.

Standing up from the table, Damian shouted, "You can't make me do that, father!"

Bruce's mind was already made, and the Justice League was already glaring holes at Damian
as if to urge the teen to behave. Dick had to admit, he knew Raven had not been blessed with
many chances to be a mortal girl, nothing like this in fact.

He also knew fighting the Justice League on this, even with his siblings on his side, would be
useless.

Could Dick really fight to deprive Raven the right to be normal for a night for the off chance
Damian would ask the Stark? What kind of monster would that make him?

Bruce stood up then, and with a voice holding nothing but raw command, he said deeply,
"You will do as I say. I've been lenient with you teenage defiance lately, but this is for the
good of someone we know, so you will do it. Do me proud and behave"
 Damian's glare was almost more intense than Bruce's, but even the teen seemed to realize that
this was not something he could get away with, not with the Justice League backing Bruce
up. So he nodded and said, "Of course father, as you ordered"

With that, Damian did not even bother finishing his meal, but instead rushed back upstairs
with Titus in tow.

Dick and his siblings felt deflated after that. They could try and conceive Bruce to let the
matter go, but they knew B felt some sort of guilt for killing Raven's demon father and this
was his way to make up for it.

Dick knew this would do nothing to change Damian's feelings for the Stark, but he was
worried the girl would say yes to someone eventually and his little brother would get hurt.
But Nightwing had no way to fix this, not when the Justice league thought they'd done the
greatest act of kindness to date.

Diana was already planning to take Raven to go shop for a dress after all, and for once, the
silent teen was asking questions about dances, seemingly bored but perhaps slightly excited.

Meanwhile, Dick couldn't quite figure out how it all went wrong so quickly.

That fast, the perfect fantasy was gone.

Chapter End Notes

In an effort to try and explain crushes to someone who would've never felt one, I needed
help. Funny enough a website on kids health was surpassingly helpful. It was hilarious,
but useful for someone like Damian Wayne.

Also, I know Bruce did not kill Raven's dad, but I feel like if given then chance, he
would've and that small guilt would be incentive enough to try and give Raven at least a
chance to be normal for once. Just in case you were wondering.
 The Kent Farm
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

After bombs, fights, and endless patrols atop work, it was nice to finally be able to relax in an
ambiance Brooklyn had not been able to enjoy since the trip to the safe house weeks ago.

Brook had not really expected to spend her free afternoon anywhere outside of Queens today,
but even she couldn't argue that this was better than sitting around doing homework and
company work.

Though the Stark and her team had been able to do patrols together in secret all this time,
they hadn't exactly been able to train together.

Usually, Brook, Yelena, and Peter took their weekends at the compound to train under the
supervision of the Avengers while Jon and Peter trained with Dick Grayson...they had all
wished one time or another that they could just be in the same place without fear of Mr.
Wayne or Brooklyn's dad getting defensive.

Luckily, there was once place they could go that had become a surprising neutral ground
between Wayne and Stark family rivalry, and that was the Kent farm in Kansas.

Normally, it would be a five hour flight from Queens just to get to Kansas by plane , but Jon
could lazily fly that distance in an hour, even with Damian in tow.

Brooklyn's new suit could make it in a little over an hour, and with Yelena using Brook's old
flight suit and Peter swung between the two, they had all made the trip in record time.

Jon had sworn on his life that neither his dad or any of his family had any clue the teens were
a team or anything like that, the great and powerful Superman just through they were
dedicated to keeping Queens safe.

Which they were of course.

Either way, the man had sworn to keep from mentioning to Bruce Wayne that they were at the
Kent farm today so they could train peacefully.

It also helped that both the Justice League and the Batman's family were busy with the
Avengers overseas stopping a shipment of weapons.

No one would be able to interfere with the peace of the day. Which is why Brooklyn was
miles away from home, sparring on a clear piece of land behind the Kent home.

The air was clear, the sky sunny, and even though their training ground was huge, it was still
surrounded by many acres of corn fields.
Brooklyn had never seen those in her life, and though she often found herself worried
someone might be peeping from within the foliage, Jon had assured her that the Kent home
was miles away from the other neighbors.

It occured to Brook that his was where the great Superman had grown up after all, a place he
had been able to enhance his abilities the way Jon was at the moment.

His strength was improving the more he used his abilities, in fact, Jon could now carry two
people instead of one when in flight, which even Brook had to admit was great progress.

Jon had admitted that some of his powers caused him great pain and agony to this day, that
sometimes places that were too crowded and gave him headaches, that his powers were still
mostly undiscovered.

Thats why Ned was on video call, Peter's phone propped on a stack of hay from where the
teen could see Jon's progress. Though Brooklyn was no genius, she'd been able to keep up
with the theories and analysis of Jon's developing "tactile telekinesis" abilities.

Such telekinesis was what allowed the Kent to levitate, possess superhuman strength, and
superhuman speed.

Right now, Ned was trying to get Jon to try and bend light around himself to create a cloaking
effect of sorts. Once that was mastered, Jon could possibly be able to easily generate force
fields that could even propel nearby objects.

It was slow work, but Jon seemed happy to learn as Ned did research and math on his end.

A little ways from Jon's work area, Peter was working on his hand to hand combat with
Yelena, who had much more experience and less hesitation in that department. Though
Yelena was ruthless, Peter's reflexes were starting to come easier to him and helped him
avoid quite a few nasty hits.

In return, Yelena was not only learning how Peter fought to better help in the team dynamic,
but she was also constantly having to evade the Spider-man's webs. It was good practice for
both of them, even when Brooklyn sometimes caught Yelena getting distracted by Jon's
progress.

As for Brooklyn, she was sparring on a flat piece of land by the Kent home with Damian. The
two had similar skills from their assassin days, but Damian had learned agility from his
family while Brooklyn had learned to cope with many attackers at once in a nonlethal way
from her own.

Right now, the two tried to teach each other what they knew, to make one another stronger
with this exchange of skills. It was much easier doing that in the peace of this place, where
everyone else was too busy with their own training so that Brook could drop the hateful act
towards Damian and just focus on this.

In a swift move, Brooklyn was able to trip Damian, only for him to back flip a few times out
of reach. When he moved forward to attack, Brook was already waiting. As soon as he
moved to punch, she ducked under his arm, grabbed it, and made to flip him over her back.

Damian was no fool, he'd already seen that particular move from Brooklyn, so he used his
feet, tangling them in her own to bring them down to the soft grass together. As soon as their
bodies hit the ground, Brook was pleased she no longer raged in disappointment as she used
to.

Now she just laughed.

"Not bad" she murmured, moving to sit beside the teen as they wiped grass and fallen leaves
off their workout clothes.

Damian ruffled his hands on his black hair, shaking all unwanted greens off as he nodded in
agreement.

"Your speed is improving" he said, "you are no longer depending on those immobilizing
techniques of the Red Room"

As far as Brook was concerned, that was a compliment from 'Mr. I Don't Give Praise Easily'

Once her black leggings and long sleeved shirt were clean, managed to help Damian clear
some grass from his similar attire without their friends noticing.

As if in mental agreement, the two elected to take a much needed break, just sitting on the
grass as they watched a swing on a tree bellow to the will of the small breeze.

The actual farm was not too far from them either, and Brook could faintly hear the sounds of
chickens and cows from within. She knew Damian was dying to go visit them later, she'd
come to realize his affection for animals had no bounds.

It was with a smile at that thought that Brooklyn leaned back on her shoulders, admiring the
training her other friends were doing beyond. Amidst the comfortable silence, Damian
whispered, "I'm surprised you came. I know you are still weary of unknown places"

That was true, it was an assassin instinct that had not yet left her system fully, even with all
the outings with Harry, MJ, and Tanya recently. It was just common sense to worry wherever
you went, but here, Brooklyn had felt no weariness since she'd landed and Jon had greeted
her with a welcoming wave.

Answering honestly, Brook said, "Well, this is Jon's family home, and I trust him. Plus, I
knew you'd be here, which makes it all the safer in my mind"

Damian looked back at her reclining form with a softened version of his usual frown.

It seemed that only at school, or in the presence of their other teammates, that he looked at
Brook as he did all others, with distain and boredom. When they were alone, there was just
trust and understanding, something she often found mirrored in her own features when the
Wayne was concerned.
It almost made her laugh thinking about how far they'd come, how liberating and right it felt
to be friends with him.

In all honestly, Brooklyn had never once found herself regretting going against her father's
beliefs when it came to Damian, not once.

The sound of a screen door opening brought both their attentions back on the home behind
them, where Jon's grandma was making her way towards them with a tray of glasses and a
jar.

Martha Kent was not only the owner of this farm, but had been the only person Brooklyn had
met today so far.

She'd been very kind to Brook, greeting her with an open smile and a simple handshake. Jon's
grandmother had been like that to all of them actually.

For Damian though, Martha knew him enough to forego the touching and just greeted him
back politely. It was no surprise Dami had shown more compassion towards the woman, he
had given her a nod in greeting and praised the state of the farm.

Right now, the elderly woman came to stand before them, setting the tray on the nearby porch
table and wiping her hands on the white apron she bore.

With that same beaming smile that actually resembled Jon's quite well, Martha asked if they
wanted some homemade lemonade. Everyone had discarded their activities to line up by the
table where the woman happy poured each teen a glass.

Yelena and Brooklyn had been the only ones in the group to never taste such a homemade
concoction, but Jon had assured them that anything made with a grandma's love was the best
in the world.

Brook's grandparents from her dad's side had died already, and she'd yet to meet Pepper's
kind parents with Harley. But Grandpa Steve WAS an exceptional cook, so without a doubt
she took a sip of the cool drink and almost had to fight back the shock from her eyes at the
taste.

It was refreshing, sweet, and made Brook's body feel soothed and calm. Beside the Stark, she
could see Yelena having to fight back her own surprise.

"How do you like it girls?" Mrs. Kent asked, pushing back strands of her graying hair.

Brooklyn did not hesitate to say, "It's delicious ma'am. Jon was a lucky boy to grow up here
with you"

The woman blushed, especially once Jon rushed over and nodded in agreement, bringing his
grandmother into a hug, carrying them both a few feet off the ground. The human woman
was not at all astounded by the feel of flying, she just chastised her 'Jonny' for being so
playful.
"Now I think thats enough fighting for you kids today, you've been at it for hours" Martha
said, gesturing to the space beyond, "You kids go out and play until everyone else arrives for
dinner, but I don't want anyone dragging mud inside the house, is that understood?"

Even Yelena, who had found a bit of herself that did not like being ordered around, nodded in
genuine agreement. This woman had shown them all nothing but kindness after all, and even
when Brooklyn was more used to the signs of affection, she was shocked Yelena was
behaving so well.

She'd even smiled at Martha just now.

Then again, any woman who managed to raise an alien into a hero deserved respect....

Though Brooklyn was sure playing was meant for children, Jon wasted no time taking hold
of Yelena's green sleeve, ushering the blonde towards the lone swing by the tree. Brooklyn
had to fight back a smirk at the sight of Yelena's curious gaze as she beheld the swing
wearily.

She really shouldn't have mentioned not knowing what it was in the first place. Jon would no
doubt spend all day with Yelena showing her all of the traces of his childhood, the things he
did for fun and the places in the large farm he favored.

Beside her, Peter smiled softly and said, "Jon is good for Yelena. He's been very kind to her,
and I think she appreciates that"

Brooklyn hummed in agreement, taking the last sips of her liquid joy before replying, "Its
good that she's been pestered by someone stronger than her, otherwise Yelena wouldn't agree
to half the things Jon wants to do"

Brook noticed Damian was not angry by the sight of his friend leaving with someone else, if
fact, he only seemed slightly worried. It was obvious Damian still did not trust Yelena after
the circumstances in which they had met, but even he could see something there between
them.

It seemed even Mrs. Kent did as well.

As she gathered some nearby hung laundry, the woman smiled at the sight of Jon pushing
Yelena on the swing, her grip tight on the dirty ropes and eyes wide.

"That boy won't shut up about her since she came to school!" Martha said, "I haven't seen
him this excited about something since the birth of the twins"

Twins. Jon's youngest sisters. Because there were more of them...

From what Brooklyn understood, Jon's family would be coming over for dinner later, and
when Martha had extended the invitation to the teens, none of them had been given room to
refuse or even help make extra food.

It would be interesting to meet others like Jon, who had grown up with a superhero as a
father, in a place peaceful like this. Though the Kents lived in Metropolis, it seemed they
liked to make constant trips to Kansas, which Brooklyn could not exactly blame them for
now.

Peter whispered back, "He really likes her doesn't he?"

Even with her lack of knowledge on emotions, especially when they concerned Peter,
Brooklyn could tell Jon's world became a little brighter when Yelena was around. Even when
she kept her distance from him, or rolled her eyes at his jokes, Brooklyn was able to see the
shadows of the Red Room fade slowly with every passing compliment and new experience
she shared with him.

Martha knew Brooklyn was an ex-assassin, that she was a Stark too. Jon had not been shy to
introduce them all as they were, swearing on his life that if there was a person in this world
that was great at keeping secrets, it was his grandma.

That meant Yelena had been introduced with her past as well.

It seemed such knowledge did not bother Mrs. Kent as much as it should've. She looked at
the the two teens on the large shady tree with approval and fondness.

"My grandson is a great kid" the woman said, "If he sees greatness in that girl, then I have no
doubt its there. Now you kids go off and play too, enjoy the day outside instead of on those
phones and technology your generation seems to love so much"

With that Martha left back inside with a pile of clothes in hand.

Peter was quick to rush over to the nearby lake with Ned still on call so they could gush over
the ducks swimming by. Brooklyn considered joining him, but when she noticed Damian's
lingering gaze on the large red farm, she gently took his arm into her own and had him lead
the way.

Once he was busy feeding the chickens, Brooklyn was comfortably settled atop a fence
staring down at the way those small creatures gathered around him with excitement.

There was one particular chicken that was not with the bulk, instead it stared up at Brook
expectantly, leaning its head sideways as if exasperated by her distance or lack of food.

Brooklyn considered threatening it with the promise of turning its fat body into chicken
nuggets, but then restrained herself if only for respecting Dami's vegetarian ways. He already
seemed so at ease, that crease between his brows eased at last in the comfort of simple
creatures that worshiped him and the sunflower seeds bag in hand.

It actually made Brook...happy? She was happy to see him so calm.

When he turned around with an empty bag in hand, Damian made to sit beside her on the
fence as they beheld the creatures feast.

"You really do like animals don't you?" Brooklyn said with a smirk, "It seems like you'd
rather be here with them than with other humans"
Damian's green eyes glinted in the sunlight from the setting sun.

"I have found that not all humans are unbearable" he admitted, then turned his gaze on her
own, looking down at Brook's amused smirk with honesty, "You for instance, are amongst
those few individuals"

"And Jon, Yelena, Ned, and Peter too right?"

Damian scoffed, "Not Parker"

It amazed her that even after all this time spent together, Damian still clung to his distaste of
Peter even when said teen had been nothing but kind since the beginning.

Maybe one day those two would get along outside of a battle, perhaps on that same day,
Brooklyn would see one of the pigs on the far side of the farm shoot up into the sky, maybe
even get a little chilly from the frozen over temperatures of hell itself.

"Too bad" Brook mused, swinging her feet forwards and backwards as she added, "I was
gonna see if you wanted to join us during the Yule dance. I know Jon is thinking of asking
Yelena, so I thought you might want to stay by our side, unless a girl from school tickles your
fancy and you've already asked someone"

Damian went silent by her side, his gaze glaring at the setting sun before them.

Had she said something wrong?

Brooklyn had only assumed Damian had agreed to attend because Jon had mentioned it in
passing. She'd almost expected him to deny it just now, Brook had actually built up a ten step
process to convince him to go, even if they couldn't exactly show their friendship at the
event.

But Invitations would start flowing tomorrow at school, today had been Brooklyn's only
chance to make arrangements since she'd had no one to go with.

Peter would ask MJ, he'd spent all of yesterday afternoon asking Brooklyn for advice as she
helped him write his own letter. Not long after, Tanya had called frantically asking for the
same type of help for the same girl.

Brooklyn was not sure who would end up winning MJ's favor, either way, Brook just hoped
no one got hurt.

Ned had planned on going with Cindy Moon from the Decathlon team, those two had made
the arrangements last week after bonding over their robotics project, it was practically set in
stone, letter or no.

Harry already had three girls he'd decided to go with, the only triplets in school who Brook
only knew as teammates of Tanya in the cheer team. The Stark was almost certain Harry had
only made such arrangements to test if his father had been honest in his efforts to think better
of him no matter what.
That left Brooklyn with no date, and though Tanya had promised her she'd get many letters
tomorrow....she would most likely ignore them. Going to a dance for the first time, no matter
how simple and ridiculous it was considering the bigger problems in the world, WAS a big
deal for her.

Brook was experiencing a lot of firsts lately. Building memories of her teenage years that
Brooklyn hoped she would remember fondly in an uncertain future.

The first party she'd gone to had been Flash's, and that had been properly spent with someone
who truly understood how Brook felt about it, and he'd gone along the experience by her side
with the same hesitations.

Damian was her friend, her closest confidant.

If anyone could make a high school party bearable, it would be him, the boy who despised
social interaction and anything involving teenagers or school.

But she'd never expected that he'd already made plans...

Damian sighed up at the sky and said, "I'm already taking someone, per father's request,
despite my lack of choice in the matter"

Brooklyn felt her brow twitch at the mention of Bruce Wayne doing something to annoy
Damian. One of the days, the Stark just might do more than talk back at the man. She knew
Dami well enough by now to know he'd only done it to not disappoint his father, who's
opinion he valued above all else.

It put a somber mood to her mental plans of what the Yule dance could've been like, but
nonetheless, now she was just mostly worried on the Wayne's behalf. Damian did not like
many people, and Brooklyn did not want someone to ruin his first high school dance.

Was she rich? The daughter of someone famous? What did that girl posses that Bruce Wayne
had made such arrangements?

Could that girl understand that Damian did not like to be touched, or would she unwillingly
pull him into dancing all night? Would that girl understand the assassin caution that would
take hold of the green eyed teen all night?

"Oh" Brooklyn found herself saying, eyes moving back to the chickens fighting one another
for seeds.

Damian's sighed loudly, but surprised her by placing one of his hands atop her own, as if he
needed comfort at the thought of the dance that was planned for him. Brooklyn did not
hesitate to intertwine her fingers with his as a result.

"I assume you will be taking Parker to the dance?" Damian asked, eyes set on the way Peter
swung beside Yelena by attaching webs to the tree as Jon continued to set gentle pushes on
both their backs.
Peter was smiling, chocolate brown eyes bright with enthusiasm as the tried to compete with
Yelena for height.

No, she would not be going with Peter, because he belonged with someone like MJ. Not once
had Peter strayed from his thought of asking Michelle, and Brooklyn had not been bothered
enough to interfere.

It might've been nice...letting Peter's sweet doe eyes remain on Brook only for a night, to
finally share a dance with him. Just to be a normal teenage girl going to a dance with a sweet
boy her dad would not be inclined to kill.

"He's asking MJ tomorrow" Brooklyn said, trying to sound excited but finding she was not as
devastated as she should've been. It had been expected after all.

Damian's grip on her hand tightened, but he said calmly, "So who will you say yes to?
Everyone is right in assuming many suitors will have an eye on you"

The thought of that made Brook chuckle. She still could not understand why guys would be
eager to ask her to a dance even when they barely knew her.

"I think I'll just go by myself" she mused, "steal dances with my friends, maybe relish in the
fact that the school is not blown up as I enjoy some food. Perhaps you'll even let me steal a
dance with you somehow. Now that we aren't trying to kill one another like back at the gala,
it will be nice to just dance with you as a friend"

Damian's tense aura lessened, and as he soothed his thumb across the scars on her wrist, he
said softly, "Sure beloved, we'll figure out how to sneak a dance in if you wish. You're
portably the only girl at school that truly knows how to dance properly anyways"

Suddenly, the loneliness of the dance did not seem as heavy.

Perhaps Brook would even go buy a dress later in the week?

"And if your date annoys you, I'll come save you" she promised, pleased to see his shoulders
slack in relief.

As the two shared a smile, Martha's voice boomed across the space, urging them to go back
inside. Though Brooklyn was nervous to dine with the Kents, seeing as though she'd never
dined with any other family than her own or with Aunt May, she hesitated to get down from
the fence.

What if they found Brooklyn unecceptable? What if they banned her from being friends with
Jon? What if Superman blamed her for putting his son in so much danger recently?

As those thoughts swirled into her mind like a tornado, a set of hands settled on her hips.
Damian looked to her eyes for permission, and once she'd nodded with realization, Damian
set her down beside him.

Eyeing the house the rest of their friends were disappearing into, Damian said, "The Kents
are amongst those bearable to me, you have nothing to fear from them"
She shouldn't have been surprised he'd known of her hesitation, but Brook appreciated the
way his hand squeezed her own in reassurance one las time before the both set a slow pace
back to the home separately.

It was from outside that Brooklyn could see a man with glasses hugging Jon tight, a woman
with hair much like Brook's joining in the embrace. From the other window of the kitchen,
the Stark could see a teenage girl with short brown hair busy hugging Martha, two little
blonde girls already in the elderly woman's arms.

It was as introductions were coming to a close that Damian and Brook stepped inside the
kitchen. Peter was finishing a handshake with Superman, clearly trying not to look too
flustered, when he beheld Brooklyn's entrance.

His eyes seemed relieved, as if glad she had not gotten in a fight with Damian.

Before Martha could finish introducing Brook by name, the two little twins rushed forward,
not towards her but rather Damian. Their presence explained all the small toys littered around
the home at least.

Her friend seemed momentarily panicked, turning to go around the table for safety when the
girls clutched his legs.

"Damian! You came to visit!" they said in unison, causing a deepening frown to arise in the
Wayne's face. Brooklyn had to fight her smirk as she realized Damian was still as bothered by
kids and Brook was with animals.

In an effort to ease his annoyance, Brooklyn leaned down and smiled at the girls.

"Hi" she said softly, "my name is Brooklyn. What are your names?"

The plan worked, the two girls seemed to forget their interest in Damian as the rushed over to
clutch Brooklyn's loose hair and the Stark watch on her wrist. Both girls pointed at one
another, introducing themselves as Jane and Carol. Damian took the chance to flee by Jon's
side in calm strides, sending a nod to Mr. Kent and his wife.

When Jon's teenage sister stepped up, she was much less giddy than her younger sisters, but
much like Uncle Clint's children, she knew Brooklyn already.

"I thought my brother was lying when he said he was friends with Brooklyn Stark" the teen
said, earning a shout of protest from Jon.

The girl pulled her younger sisters back gently, then extended a hand and introduced herself
as Laura. Brooklyn has accepted the greeting, not surprised to see the girl had the same smile
as her older brother and the kindness that came with it.

Once at the dinning table, Brooklyn had learned through the easy flow of conversation that
managed to keep steady thought the meal, that the kids of Superman all held human names as
well as kryptonian ones.

That had been sparked by Peter's curiosity on their alien background.

It was Superman himself that answered, "We wanted them to have both sides of their lineage
with them. I was named Kal-El by my parents after all"

"Yeah! My kryptonian name is Lara" Laura said, then pointed at the twins on their high
chairs, "Jane is Jana and Carol is Cara. You probably really know my brother's since he never
shuts up"

Across the table, Jon turned to Yelena (who sat beside him), and said, "I guess I never
mentioned it, but my other name is Jon-El"

Yelena was careful with her manners, had been all night actually. She looked across the table
where Brooklyn sat and admitted, "Brooklyn gave me the name Yelena Belova actually. You
don't need to explain the complexities of having another name, I understand"

The table went wide eyed, except for the twin girls who were too busy tossing vegetables to
one another.

It was Jon's mom, Lois, that asked curiously, "Jon mentioned you two grew up in an assassin
organization like our dear Damian. Do you remember your other names?"

Brooklyn set down her utensils and explained as calmly as possible to the reporter, "The
place we grew up in takes young girls in, some since birth, others who are orphans. You
know Natasha Romanoff is from there as well" a series of nods went around the table, even
from a curious Peter who she rarely told things about the Red Room about, "Well, if you are
there since birth like Yelena and I, then you get a...name...given to you. Others like Natasha
who remembered their name and their past get to keep what they were given since birth"

The joyous ambiance at the table seemed to dim, and Brooklyn was reminded why she did
not speak of the Red Room days to anyone other than sestra and Damian.

Superman, arguably the strongest being in this world or any other, actually looked to the
gathered teens with some sort of joy then, he did not mirror the looks of pity from his mother
or wife.

"The one thing about this family is that we are of two worlds, coming together as one. It
doesn't matter where I was born or what my name was, it never made me any less the son of
my ma and pa. It never changed the fact that I'm Clark Kent or changed the love I have for
my wife" he said, gesturing to the woman sitting next to him.

Brooklyn looked into his eyes than now seemed to be an unnaturally vivid shade of blue
without those glasses of his. He pointed that kind stare not only to Brook and Yelena, but to
Damian as well.

"You kids are working together to do incredible things, no matter where you grew up, what's
in your blood or how different that makes you from others around you" Clark said, "Thats the
founding belief of groups like the Justice league, the Teen Titans, and even the Avengers. Its
just different people coming together to do what's right"

Lois smiled, ruffling her son's hair slightly, something Jon did not seem to mind.
"Clark is right, in this house, we don't care about the past of any guest, nor will we judge you
for it. There is no family out there that is perhaps more understanding in the concept I'm
sure" the woman said, earning nods from all the Kents.

Brooklyn was momentarily stunned by the realization that even though this family was
consisted of a world's difference (quite literally), they seemed just as normal as any others.
They embraced both sides of their origins with pride...and it was beautiful.

Damian had been right, there was nothing to fear from these people. Even if this so called
Clark Kent was perhaps the most dangerous and powerful being in the world, he was no
threat, and would not judge Brooklyn for her less that acceptable childhood.

As the meal of mashed potatoes, flourishes of fresh grown greens, meats (save for Damian),
and even an apple pie for dessert came to an end, Brooklyn was already hoping she could
find the time and space to come visit these kind people again. Even Yelena had whispered her
own wishes to return, with the excuse of wanting to see what childhood they had missed out
on by learning from Jon's.

It could also be that the Kents seemed to be well aware of who Yelena was, someone Jon
fancied, and had made it their mission to not only be incredibly kind to the blonde, but spoil
her senseless with sweets and funny stories of all the Kent children's youths.

For the first time since Brooklyn had decided to help Yelena towards a better path, the girl
had smiled, wide and genuine as she sat on the couch with Mrs.Kent and Jon going over old
photo albums.

Yelena's guard seemed completely down then, her gaze curious and her chuckles genuine.

Is that why mom and dad often looked happy when they saw Brooklyn smile? Did they feel
this sense of relief and accomplishment?

Standing by the kitchen door with Damian on its other side, the two observed the chaos from
the family and friends in the cozy living room with the lit up fire place. They all knew they
should be making their way back home, but it seemed even Peter did not want to leave, not
when the Kents had a dog that could fly to entertain him.

The smell of the home cooked meal was still in the air, along with that peculiar scent that
came with the fields of produce beyond the home. It was a calming smell, something that
seemed to fit with the joy and peace of this family.

"Do you ever wish your childhood had been different?" Brooklyn asked Damian, hoping the
sounds of music and the distractions of conversations would be enough for the three
enhanced Kents and Peter to not overhear.

Beside her, Damian had his arms crossed, back to the wall beside the door as he frowned
down at the thick red plaid farm jacket Martha Kent had made him wear when the weather
dropped as the sun left the sky.
Brooklyn had been given one of Laura's soft wool white sweaters to put on, and she had
foregone mentioning she'd been one of the few to survive Russian winters for years with
nothing more than liquor and a flimsy blanket. One look from the elderly woman had taken
the argument right out of Brook's mouth.

The busy people before Damian seemed to not be enough privacy for him, because her friend
gently guided her to the back door in the kitchen and led them towards the tree with the lone
swing.

The air was cold outside, and the place was dark, but it gave the perfect view of the
thousands of glistening stars above that looked like diamonds. The view itself was something
Queens could never provide, something Brooklyn had no doubt Damian had taken her
outside to see on purpose by the look of satisfaction on his smug face.

Brooklyn smiled at his antics, and did not fight him as she was guided to sit on the foreign
swing.

Though she knew for a fact a place like the League of Assassins had no such things as
swings, he expertly made it work, letting Brooklyn gently sway back and forth, rising higher
and higher as if she might be able to touch the stars.

Once a steady rhythm had been established, Damian said into the night sky, "Sometimes Jon
brings me here to dine with his family or take care of the farm for his grandmother. Not once
have I wished to have this childhood though"

Brooklyn nodded in understanding, because she knew that neither would trade their years of
knowledge on how to fight, even if it took keeping all the torture and pain that came with
those lonely years.

That strength they both possessed now had changed them, made them able to save others, to
be useful to society as their fathers were.

"That day in the safe house, you admitted to not being able to have this kind of life, we both
did" Brooklyn said softly, "Do you still wish our responsibilities were not so great that maybe
you could have a simple farm life in the future?"

Brook had no clue why she was so curious, why the mere sight of the Kents in their element
was so critical to her way of thinking now. Why Damian's thoughts on the matter were just as
important.

Damian let the swing come to a still, grasping the worn ropes beside Brooklyn as he moved
to face her, eyebrow raised in question.

"Would you want a life like this? Live in a farm full of animals for the sake of peace?" he
asked, as if mockingly.

Brooklyn chuckled.
"You know animals are not exactly my forte! But peace would be nice, maybe somewhere
deep into the future I could let myself hope for a life like the Kents. But I just don't think I'm
built for it" she answered honestly.

Damian stared down at her, his facial expressions obscured by the darkness around them.

"I see no use for a peaceful life like this. Even in the company of animals, I might grow bored
being alone, with no one to fight, nothing of great importance to do" Damian said.

Maybe one day, they'd both be able to put down their weapons and search for happiness
somewhere in the world. But Brooklyn couldn't help but think that the life she had now, no
matter how flawed and complicated, was perhaps the happiest she'd ever be.

Once they could no longer risk getting caught by Agent Claire (even when her priority was
still Harley), Brooklyn finished fastening Yelena to her old black Iron-man suit just as Peter
attached a web to its back. Before making way to her own opened suit, a large hand on her
shoulder stopped her movements.

Though Damian and the Kents were still by the porch, it seemed Superman had something to
say. Giving her friends a sign to give her a few minutes, Brooklyn let the man guide her a
little ways out despite Damian's concern.

Brook was trying not to panic. She really was.

Jon's dad was easygoing and kind, but he was also a powerful kryptonian.

Brooklyn had expected to get a reprimand form the man, to get chastised for putting Jon in
the way of the Joker and bombs. But the tall man merely smiled and said, "I would like you
to know that our home has no quarrel with Starks, if you ever need anything, you can come to
us"

She tried not to gawk at the words of kindness, she really did, but her mouth flew open
regardless.

"Why?" she couldn't help but ask in astonishment.

Clark Kent placed his glasses back on, smiling fondly at the people waiting on the porch,
were a curious Jon and a fist-clenched Damian stared right at them.

"You are Jon's friend for starters, you keep not just his secret, but our own" the alien said,
"But I see it now...the way you are changing Damian"

Changing? What was he talking about?

Did he suspect they were friends? Could kryptonians even read minds?

At her panicked gaze, the man chuckled and said, "Nothing bad of course! I just meant that
I've known Damian since he came to Bruce at the age of ten. Back then he was a very
sarcastic and snarky boy with trust issues. He argued with anyone he could, whenever he
 could. Though he did change over the years, showing kindness to pets and choosing to fight
for the good of Gotham, he turned broodish and quiet at times"

Brooklyn was willing to bet that if ten year old Brooklyn and Damian had met, they would've
no doubt killed one another with those assassin attitudes of theirs.

She HAD noticed a change in Damian though, but it had been a slow thing, a shift on both
their parts to get to the friendship they were at now.

In an effort to claim cluelessness, Brooklyn said confidently, "He's still like that to everyone"

But Clark Kent was no fool.

With a small smile, the man replied, "Not with you. I'm not here to make accusations or start
pestering you for explanations Miss Stark. I'm actually here to thank you for bringing some
life back to my godson. I don't know what you're doing to reach him when none of us or his
family could, but I hope it doesn't stop"

Was Superman giving her a compliment?

She couldn't figure out why, if Damian had changed from his childhood self, that had all been
his doing, having nothing to do with Brooklyn.

Either way, the girl nodded, now more eagerly making it to her golden suit.

Once she tested the controls and GIL had deemed the skies clear, Brook synced both metal
suits to fly as one with Peter holding on between them.

She did spare one last glance down below though, watching as the Kents waved in farewell,
as Damian's gaze remained on her own. He'd likely not risk calling her tonight seeing as he
was staying with a bunch of people with super-hearing, but Brook had no doubt he'd question
the conversation with the hero tomorrow.

She'd miss talking to him though...

Maybe Clark Kent thought Brooklyn was the one who was changing Damian for the better,
but in reality, Brook realized it had been the other way around.

With that odd realization, she watched as the farm became nothing but a small spec in the
distance and made her way back home, with the feel of swaying on that swing for the first
time still fresh in her mind.

Chapter End Notes

This is not the last time we'll get a glimpse of the Kent family, think of this as a very
small introduction!
 Yule Invitations [Part 4]
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 Part Four: Teamwork

"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway"

-Edgar Allan Poe

Brooklyn POV-

Just as Brook was opening her locker, too busy discussing the importance of strawberries
being superior to apples with Tanya and MJ, her argument was cut short by the sound of stuff
falling from her locker.

Already annoyed, the Stark got ready to pick up whatever book had decided to infuriate her,
only to find a small mountain of blue envelopes resting before her black heels.

Tanya squealed.

"I told you you'd be the prized gem this year, that has to be at least twenty cards!" Tanya said,
moving down to start picking them up with excitement.

MJ leaned agains the locker, smiling smugly as she corrected, "More like forty, I'm surprised
your locker didn't explode"

Brooklyn's locker WAS a mess, filled with even more letters than the ones that had jumped
ship on the floor. If Brook was being honest, she had not expected to be asked by more than
three people, but it appeared that as always, when it came to social matters, Tanya was once
again right.

Ignoring the looks from passing students, Brooklyn helped her friends pile the letters into
their school bags before rushing over to their lunch table after picking up random items from
the food court.

On their way to the corner of the room, Brooklyn felt the stares of many people on her, as if
expecting her to stop by their table.

Beside her, MJ whispered, "They are waiting to see if you've made up your mind on
someone"

Brook whispered back nervously, "I just got the letters, how am I supposed to know!?"
Tanya scowled beside MJ, "Maybe because you've been ignoring your locker all day. No
more, we are opening up all these letters to see if there is anyone worthy!"

Brooklyn wanted to tell Tanya that she had already decided to go alone, but even she was
curious as to what the sea of students she didn't know had written to try and charm her.
Maybe the Stark could learn a thing or two from them about the mysteries of flirtation only
Tanya and Harry seemed to have mastered in their little friend group.

She almost let out a relieved sigh when they made it to the table where everyone was already
seated. Being able to turn her back on the room was a relief, especially when she'd had
visible clumps of letters out of every pocket of her bag.

Brook had even caught an amused smile form Agent Claire in a table in the distance...

Still, the Stark was glad Harley had been busy with a project so he wouldn't have to witness
Brook, MJ, and Tanya dumping piles of blue envelopes in the middle of the table.

It was a horrific sight....

Ned and Harry were the first to stand up from their benched seats, looming over the pile with
smiles on here faces as they picked out some letters to read. Brooklyn should've stopped
them, she had no clue what kind of embarrassing stuff was in them, but her friends would
likely know how to decipher them better.

Beside Brooklyn, Damian did no show the same amused interest as the others, at least he was
polite enough to just glare at the stack as if he could combust it into fire. Always trust
Damian to understand when all others did not.

Brook could still feel the intense stares from everyone in the lunch hall, she tried not to
shrink at the feeling, focusing on the act of her friends abandoning their food and ripping into
the invitations with vigor.

"This is ridiculous" she muttered, watching as Harry's smirk widened by the content in his
hands.

"You know what's actually ridiculous?" Harry whispered, "That Michael G spelled love with
two Os"

Beside him, Tanya kept her gaze on the paper before her as she added, "And Noah the senior
is offering you a dozen roses and a Snickers bar to go with him. That sounds like a good
deal" she mused jokingly.

Brooklyn's cheeks flamed in embarrassment, it was as if the student body thought they could
buy her affection with written words with no trust of value. Was she really worth the price of
a bit of greenery and chocolate in someone's eyes?

Jon looked a little more sheepish as he grabbed onto a sealed envelope, at least having the
decency to look embarrassed as he read, "This one is from the guy in our calculus class, he
made you a funny little poem with math references...how creative"
Without really meaning to, Brook's head fell on the table with a tired sigh, still trying to
figure out why people had done this to her. It seemed that dad had been right about the curse
of being a Stark being inconvenient in ones youth.

Damian had not reached for a single envelope though, he merely turned behind them to glare
at the mass of students, at last easing the feeling of being shot with intense looks behind her
back. Thanks to the column between they seats, Brooklyn was able to reach down and
squeeze his hand in thanks, something they had grown used to doing by now when words
could not be said.

He squeezed back, but did not let go of her hand as he often did afterwards.

He'd been staying closer to her side all day, shooting glares at whispering students during
History, pushing boys out of the way when they tried to run by her side in P.E. Though Brook
thought she'd never say so in her lifetime, Damian was an angel for making this day easier for
her, for understanding how weird it would be.

Regardless, the rest of lunch was spent with her friends reading the letters as if they were
menu options, Tanya and Harry even doing impressions of their classmates voices for some
of them.

Like Jon, Peter had seemed slightly uncomfortable by the amusement, and though he did not
read a single letter out loud, he did pick up a few to scan with the privacy his eyes.

He was likely nervous for later, when he, Jon, and Tanya had agreed to hand over their own
letters at the end of the day. Though Peter was unaware Tanya's was for MJ just as his was,
the brunette's excuse for doing so had been to let the best person win.

Who MJ would choose, Brooklyn had no clue, but she was not thrilled at the concept that an
entire school of students expected HER to make a choice on a date as well. The Yule
decorations of paper snowflakes and winter backgrounds on the walls were already enough to
make her head spin.

Even the always quiet Yelena had amused herself by reading a few out loud beside Brooklyn,
then cursing the idiots in Russian afterwards. She'd even promised to share this embarrassing
tale with Natasha later for their own amusement, making Brook question if it was worth it
sparing Yelena's life.

The mound of letters was endless....

Dear Brooklyn Stark,

I know you're way out of my league, but I promise to show you a good time at the dance. We
made eye contact once in the hallways, so I think we'll get along great. Call me.

Brooklyn,
I am the best looking guy in the volleyball team, I think we would look good going together.
What do ya say?

Brooklyn,

You are as beautiful as a booming flower, smart beyond your youth, but a treasure to my
eyes. I feel that the dance will be our chance to find love at last.

Love...as if such an emotion was so easily conjured between strangers...

On and on the letters went, each one somehow more amusing than the last and infinitely
more embarrassing as the minutes ticked by.

Brooklyn,

I know someone as rich as you will probably be bored at the dance, but I can show you a
good time afterwards in my new car. We can go together if you're in for a magical evening.

Brooklyn had felt Damian's grip on her hand tighten at that particular letter, even more so at
the more vulgar ones that came after it. It seemed that some students had no shame to admit
their true intentions in inviting her to the dance after all.

Others were more crafty with their words, but Harry had spotted guys with ill intentions
easily and discarded the letters in what the group had dubbed 'the no pile' which so happened
to be by MJ's side of the table. Peter even threw in a few himself after seconds of reading
them, doing so with bright red cheeks.

Funny enough, there wasn't a letter from Flash, which Brooklyn had considered a personal
win.

When the bell finally saved Brooklyn from further embarrassment, she tried not to seem
eager to go to class as she gathered the letters and made a point to burn them with her Stark
watch in an alley somewhere after school.

Maybe some students were not very righteous, but burning what must've taken 'some form of
bravery to send' in front of their faces seemed a little too cruel, even if Damian had been an
advocate for the idea.

"You're just mad because you didn't get any letters" Harry had said to Damian, only for Jon to
clarify that he had received a dozen or so letters which he'd quickly thrown away.
Tanya had stared at Damian wide eyed, "You really hate everyone here don't you? No one is
good enough?"

When Dami did not bother with a response, Jon came to the rescue again when Brook could
not, and said with a hint of...was that sadness?, "He already has a date like Ned and Harry,
thats why"

Brooklyn tried not to remember the fact that Bruce Wayne had forced a partner for her friend,
it took a lot in her not to go hunt the bat down and tie him to the bridge her golden necklace
represented.

Harry did not know that particular fact though, so he just stared open mouthed as Damian and
Jon left the table to go to their classes.

Now beside her, the boy with the leather jacket said, "I never thought I'd see the day Damian
Wayne asked someone to a dance, even for the Christmas galas where we have to bring a
guest, he's never done so in his life"

Brook was not surprised, but she could only be haunted by the fact that perhaps Damian's
first school dance would be ruined...or he'd finally find another friend as a result.

During classes, the Stark found the thought troubling. For a while now, Brook had become
accustomed to knowing the only friends Damian held close where Jon, Brooklyn, and his
annoying pets.

How would it be like for him to be open with more? What if he found the meaning of
emotions his brothers had tried to explain to him, the ones neither Brook and Damian fully
understood still after a long walkie-talkie conversation?

Perhaps his date would be a flawless beauty that would get Damian's buried emotions to
come out at last since to this dance that was meant to 'bring couples together'.

All those odd thoughts were halted as Brook stood behind the bleachers of the football field,
with Ned and Harley by her side.

Harley it seemed, was indeed the superior Stark child. He'd managed to shyly secure a date
today, asking a sweet girl from his math class with advice from mom. Harley had been smart
enough not to ask dad for advice at least.

Her bother had come down to the field with the exciting news, a smile on his face as pride
radiated off him. It took Brook all of two seconds to have Ned run a background check on the
girl, and once she made sure the girl was acceptable, she'd even hugged her brother in
congratulations.

Harley and dad could bond over that little fact today when they left to spend some bonding
time for sure, maybe Brooklyn would call mom and finally mention the dance and Harley's
reaction.

Right now, the true mission was seeing the reactions of both MJ and Yelena down at the field.
In order to spare Jon getting killed, Brooklyn had taken the trouble of spoiling the surprise to
Yelena in the morning. She'd tried to summon all of her patience to explain to the ex-assassin
that Jon's intentions were kind and came from the heart even when both Red Room girls did
not fully understand it.

"Just think about giving him a chance. I think going to the Yule dance will be good not just
for you, but for both of us. Everything in life is a learning experience, and no harm can come
out of this one. Just remember that Jon is a good guy, probably one of the few we'll ever meet
in our lives, and though he is very emotionally driven, that does not make him lesser than us.
In fact, I think it makes him better" Brooklyn had said, leaving Yelena to ponder on the words
all day for this precise moment.

It was a good thing Damian came to join them then, so they could all be clueless together as
they watched the letters be handed over, with Peter slightly aghast as Tanya's action. There
was no anger in his features, just curiosity.

They waited in silence as the girls read the notes, all of which Brooklyn had been dragged
into helping with even when she had no superior abilities when it came to emotions.

The air was tense, no one under the bleachers wanted to see them hurt (Damian would
probably be the exception when it came to Peter), and Brook was busy pondering whether
Yelena would open up to this new experience positively or not. Though she was making great
progress, Yelena still clung to some things of the Red Room, probably for nothing more than
comfort of the known.

But yesterday with Jon, she'd seemed happy, Brooklyn could only hope that would weight in
heavier than Ivan's teachings for the half-kryptonian's sake.

A simple nod from Yelena and little excited hops from Jon made everyone but Damian
release relieved breaths none of them through they were holding.

Once crisis averted.

"Oh thank goodness" Brooklyn muttered, and couldn't help but be excited at the same time to
let their sestra know later. Natasha would be most pleased with this little development no
doubt.

As for the other three on the other side of the field, it was harder to tell what was being said.
MJ had always been passive with her expressions, and Peter and Tanya's backs were to the
bleachers.

Some fierce nods from Peter and a twilling cheerleader later were enough for Brooklyn to be
very confused.

"Who did Michelle say yes to?" Harley asked, pushing back strands of his dirty blond hair to
try and get a better view.

Minutes later, when Brooklyn dragged Damian to his car along with the others so they could
pretend to be patiently waiting instead of spying, they all got their answer.
MJ had been impressed by Tanya's breaking of common traditions, and she'd been pleased
with Peter's words and the references to all the books she loved (no doubt also that the fact
she had feelings for him was also a factor). So she'd decided to go with both of them, spend
half the night with each so they could have the ultimate time as friends.

Brooklyn was just glad no one had gotten hurt...

Peter and Tanya both seemed happy, and MJ was clutching the letters fondly to her books in
hand as if she hadn't been expected to get asked but got a good surprise out of it.Brook
couldn't find it in herself to be angry at MJ for going with Peter, she couldn't even be mad at
him for not asking Brooklyn when it was clear he did not like her at all.

It was none of her business really.

But now as they stood in the parking lot reminiscing on the tales of how each girl had been
asked, Brooklyn couldn't help but realize that Peter had never looked at her the way he did so
at MJ right now. And he never would.

The fact that she was till friends with Pete should be more than enough, yet she couldn't help
but be a little disappointed that her own dance would not be spent with the joy he now
possessed.

How good would it be to go to a dance with someone you absolutely adored? That you could
just let go and be free with that person? Many couples at school displayed similar happiness
today, even Yelena (who tried to hide it) seemed pleased, they had something to look forward
to.

Hours later, Yelena and Harley were likely at the compound, bragging about their dates, one
with feigned annoyance, the other with innocent excitement. Jon was likely flying laps all
across Metropolis by now, Peter had certainly been chipper when they'd gone on a duo patrol
earlier, shouting his joy to the city with no restraint.

As Brooklyn sat on her couch, flipping through channels with a packet of SHIELD science
division documents on her lap, she realized how happy she truly was for all her friends. It
was odd to feel joy for others when the Red Room had been founded of selfishness needs of
ones own.

But the Stark was truly happy for all of them, almost excited to help the girls pick out their
dresses in upcoming days.

It was in that new calm state of acceptance that Brooklyn was snapped out of as something
crashed into her balcony. Stark watch at the ready, Brook jumped over her couch just to see
Robin making his way inside her home, discarding his domino mask on the table.

"What are you doing here?" Brooklyn asked, immediately letting go of her weapon as she
walked to his side, "Is something wrong?"

Damian sighed but shook his head.

"Nothing is wrong, I just came to visit" Damian said, "Jon was annoying me with talks of
tuxedos and my family is not home, so I came to help you burn those disgusting letters of
yours"

Brook had almost forgotten about them.

With a chuckle, the Stark sent Damian to the spare room to change into something from stash
of his clothes they'd decided to keep in her home just in case he came in injured again and
needed to spend the night. Dami had already sworn he'd never get caught drunk again.

It had seemed silly at the time to go through that trouble of letting some of his things stay in
her home, but such a decision seemed to have its functionality now as Damian came back out
in comfortable clothes, a simple black turtle neck and some jogger pants.

Brooklyn briefly wondered if he could tell she'd washed them recently, mostly as a kindness
for the day he might need them. But Damian was very observant, it was actually his greeting
to her when he found her in the kitchen.

"They smell like your detergent, lavender and roses" he said, leaning on the counter beside
her where Brooklyn was trying to find something they could eat. She had no idea if he
planned to stay here long, not likely, but she didn't want him to go hungry all afternoon.

Anything to see him alive and strong unlike that day at the pool area.

"Did you really think I'd be so cruel as to let your clothes sit in that drawer to collect dust? I
have more manners than that, my dear Dami" she replied, finally fishing out all of her
available ingredients but not having a clue what to do with them.

She'd tried to cook something two days ago and had only resulted in almost burning her home
down...

As Agent Coulson and Hill had once predicted, Brooklyn was no culinary master, probably
worse than Aunt May when it came to making something that wasn't microwavable or simply
boiled.

Seeing her cluelessness, Damian swore they wouldn't go hungry as he began dialing a
number. Unsure of what he was doing, wondering if he'd had the similar idea to her own of
just ordering food rather than burn the kitchen down, Brooklyn stood there until a familiar
voice picked up the phone.

"Master Damian, how rare it is to hear your wonderful voice over the phone" the man said
sarcastically.

Both froze.

Damian quickly whispered to Brook, "I thought I'd be sent to voicemail and he would just
text me back..."

Still, Damian did not hang up.

"Pennyworth" Damian said simply, putting the phone on speaker and setting it on the table, "I
have a few ingredients before me and it is imperative you tell me what I can made from them
and how"

Brooklyn's eyes went wide, the sleeves of her lazy wool cardigan falling out of place as she
made worried gestures to Damian beside her.

Alfred was likely confused in the few seconds it took him to reply, clearly this wasn't a
common request, but brushed off whatever worry he had as he replied, "I'm assuming this a
meal for two with Mistress Brooklyn?"

Both teens were silent, unsure how to answer.

"If so, then you might want to check how many eggs you have available Master Damian"
Alfred said casually, not at all angry or bothered that they were clearly in the same room
spending time together.

For an extra safety measure, Brooklyn had even made sure to close all the blinds in the
apartment as soon as Damian had left to change, but it seemed that like the Kents, Alfred had
no quarrels with a Stark being around one of his masters.

He HAD always been kind to her, and ever since Brook had started sending upgrade parts for
the brace Damian's sister had, she'd been keeping communications with the man more often.
Perhaps he had grown to forget she was a Stark, a good thing too considering she didn't hate
Alfred in the least.

Aside from Damian, Alfred was probably the only person at the Wayne manor Brooklyn
could stand looking at after all.

Sheepishly, Brooklyn said into the phone, "Hello Alfred. I have seven eggs, is that enough?"

The man seemed pleased with the number, because even though he was stuck at a doctor's
appointment with Mrs. Wayne for her pregnancy checkup, the elderly man worked up a video
call, helping the clumsy teenage duo make a meal that could rival restaurant food.

Neither Damian or Brooklyn felt the need to voice their weaknesses when it came to cooking,
but once everything was warm and served on the small dining room table, they couldn't help
but shoot smug smirks at one another.

Alfred hadn't even made a point to question why both teens were together to begin with
during their little cooking session, but still, Damian wasted no time telling Alfred to keep this
conversation a secret above all else. Brooklyn had pulled one of her rare voiced thanks for
him anyways.

"Not even the most horrible torture could get me to divulge this information to Master Bruce,
enjoy the meal" Alfred said, and after a small wave to the two, the video call ended.

Though Brooklyn had expected it would be awkward to just eat with Damian as company,
she found they did not have trouble striking conversation, especially when their joint meal
had turned out so good!

"I'm almost offended Alfred never cooks this for us, the old man has been holding onto his
greatest recipes for years it seems" Damian said, taking a sip of his cranberry juice from one
of the wine cups Brooklyn had laying around.

That had been her doing, Brooklyn thought such a beautiful three course meal deserved
something fancier than old Disney cartoon cups, so they looked like children trying to play
adults with their wine cups full of cranberry juice. If anything it was Coulson's fault for
buying fancy silverware...

The light of the chandelier above, and the rarely turned on fireplace in the living room
kindled by all the Yule invitations she and Damian had thrown in earlier to burn, served as a
calm glow around them.

"Just be glad I had these many ingredients" Brooklyn said, "I put off going to the store quite
often since I tend to go back to the compound on weekends"

It was true, mornings with no milk were common, and a true blight that hung over the rest of
those days. Thankfully, Aunt May often invited Brooklyn over to eat, likely why the Stark
hadn't staved to death by now.

It was honestly amazing what a few months of proper eating and exercise could do to a
person.

Not long ago, when she had been living on her own and in hiding as Brooklyn Jones, the teen
had been two sandwiches away from being a concerning level of malnourished. She'd been
skinny, but not fit as she was now. She'd never gone to bed hungry thanks to the money from
her job at the Cafe & Diner, but she'd only eaten what she could afford each meal.

Now she was here, eating this delicious meal with her unlikely friend, both calm and relaxed,
stronger than ever.

Once their meal was finished, Brooklyn actually smiled when Damian leaned towards the
sink to help with the dishes. Though he clearly had little experience where that was
concerned, their trip to the safe house had been of use to helping the duo process go by faster.

Brooklyn had taken one look at the remaining water in the sink and just couldn't help
herself...

After droplets of water had made contact with Damian's passive face, his frown did not show
anger, but shifted into something that brought challenge to his expressions Brooklyn always
enjoyed.

Before Brook could duck, a palm full of water had soaked her face and strands of her loose
red hair. With a yelp, Brooklyn mourned the droplets running down her light blue silk pants
before throwing all reason to the wind and reciprocating the gesture, watching as Damian
barely had time to close his eyes as his face was met with water.
It was with a surpassing chuckle that Brooklyn darted from the kitchen, feet bare as she
rushed around the couch with Damian in tow, then around the table a few times until her
friend swung over it easily, chasing her into the safety of her room.

Once she'd made the threshold, ready to shut the door with some difficulty thanks to her
inability to stop laughing, Brooklyn realized she'd been too late as she was tackled into her
plush white sheets.

Staring up at Damian's green eyes full of amusement, Brooklyn couldn't help but think that
perhaps he HAD changed somehow, as Clark Kent had pointed out. If anything, the small and
awkward smile rising across his face was enough proof of that.

Stopping the fight to set her arms free, Brooklyn couldn't help but whisper, "I had no idea you
had such cute dimples when you smile"

Damian's smile faltered, so she quickly amended, "Don't! I actually quite like it when you
smile. Makes me think you don't hate me anymore"

The Wayne raised a brow in confusion, sitting down beside her on the bed as he said, "I don't
hate you, you're my friend after all. You must understand how rare an honor that is?"

She smiled.

"I know" Brook replied, "But its just a pleasant reminder that I'm not on your destroy-list
anymore"

He shook his head, as if amused by her words before taking a look at the room around them.
Brooklyn had not been expecting guests today, and she never let anyone in her room to begin
with so it was al little messy.

Documents drowned her work table, laundry remained folded by her plush chair but not
placed where it belonged. Still, Brook was at least glad she hadn't left underwear around or
something embarrassing of the sort.

But Damian's eyes were not fixed on the messes, but the wall above he desk, covered with
polaroids. More specifically, the ones of himself.

Brooklyn almost felt embarrassed as he sat up from the bed and went to run a finger over
them. The two of them both drunk at Flash's party, and the one from the safe house with just
Damian looking angry and defeated in the silliest pajama set to ever exist.

His first reaction was not anger or a demand for Brook to take them down. No, he just ran his
fingers along them, lingering on the last one as his gaze turned to the others of her family and
friends.

"You would place me where those you care about are?" Damian whispered.

Brook had only been half-joking when she mentioned she liked seeing him smile as
reassurance that they were now friends, but the Stark had no clue that perhaps he needed
some reassurance of that fact as well.
They were breaking all the rules as after all, holding a friendship that was not meant to be.

Moving to stand beside him, Brooklyn placed her finger beside his on the photo of the two of
them sitting at a cards table, alcohol in hand and cards foolishly stuck on their foreheads.
Both were smirking there too, something due to great timing on Harry's part and their good
mood at all the wins they'd scored that night.

Letting her finger linger close to Damian's own, she whispered, "You belong here in this wall
as well. In fact, there is a great lack of photos of you here, and the team! Lets remedy it"

In one swift move, Brooklyn pulled Dami back to sit on the bed, reaching for the drawer
beside her bed for the camera she'd been gifted.

When Damian began to complain about hating cameras, she did not force him, but extended
an arm out to him so he could decide. That is how their fireship worked after all, with
absolute trust.

Slowly and wearily, Damian let her arm snake around his back, pulling them beside one
another as Brooklyn raised the camera. Knowing full well he had his signature frown on, the
Stark said, "Just one smile! I swear no one is allowed into my room, I'll be the only one that
knows"

Damian huffed, "But I've been to your room before"

True.

It just occurred to her that Damian was perhaps her only exception to that privacy rule.

When she'd said as much to him, the teen wound his arm around her back and relented a
small close lipped smile as she beamed.

In minutes, the photo was printed and after a bit of shaking, it was ready to hang on the wall.
As Brooklyn did so excitedly, she almost tripped over the small shoe box by her beside, but
managed to catch herself with a laugh.

Once all was pinned into place, Brook turned around to find Damian staring at said shoe box,
one of her greatest secrets to date. He did not reach for it, but clearly noted the ware and tare,
the faded paint, and the big warning on the lid not to open.

That box was perhaps one of the most personal items she owned, one no one aside from
Brooklyn knew about, not even her parents. Once, when Spider-man had come to take her to
Cassie the first time, Brook saw him notice its presence, but no one else had ever laid eyes on
it.

She'd always assumed it would stay that way, that no one would ever know of its
existence...until today in the dark bedroom lit only by the glowing sticker stars above.

With a tired sigh, Brooklyn pulled the box up from the floor, setting it on her lap as she sat
beside him. The Stark ran her hand delicately on the sides, on the bumps it possessed,
damage like the scars all along her back.
Not sure what Damian would make out of it, she slowly passed it over to his own lap, unable
to meet his gaze as she whispered shakily, "You can open it if you want. No one has ever seen
what's inside but me"

Damian hesitated for a few heartbeats, then Brooklyn heard the sounds of the lid being
opened at last. Though she was still shaking slightly, Brook forced herself to look at her
friend, trusting he would not laugh at the sight of the small treasures inside.

He slowly took them out one by one, setting them down between their legs.

First was a small strip of grey cloth, seams coming undone on the sides and stained with little
dark drops of dried up blood.

"It belonged to my uniform from the Red Room" Brooklyn admitted, then watched as he
fished out a black pistol, the tip bashed in and rendered useless.

"Thats a Makarov's Pistol, the Soviet semi-automatic pistol I used to get out of the Red
Room...the one I used to kill my way out. Natasha let me keep it, but to ensure I would not
use it in the orphanage, she broke it" the teen said, watching as Damian's eyes went wide
when he noticed the spots of dried blood she'd never been able to bring herself to clean.

Next was a stack of papers, the ones giving her the identity of Brooklyn Rosa Jones, orphan
of an American soldier overseas and a Russian commoner. All lies, but that had been her
identity for so long, the one the bored and angry little girl in the paper's worn photo had
owned.

Brooklyn saw what Damian did. A little girl with red hair, expression passive but on guard.

Confused, angry, and alone.

All those documents had been rendered useless once she officially became Brooklyn Stark,
but they had always been inside that box, it had felt wrong to take them out.

The next object was not like the others, it was a worn little teddy bear with big black eyes,
faded red fur, and a stitched up smile that seemed almost fake.

"You could say that was my first and only toy" Brooklyn said with a dark chuckle, "The
orphanage gave it to me when SHIELD dropped me off. They told me I could hold it tight at
night if I ever missed my parents, but there was nothing to miss, not when I had helped kill
my own mother and my dad didn't know I existed"

Damian inspected the small scratches on the bear, something that should not have been
caused by a result of time passed.

It hadn't.

"I used to hate that bear" Brook admitted, running her hands along its round ears fondly, "The
ladies at the orphanage said it could be my friend, but I had no idea what that meant. It never
did anything, no matter how much I yelled at it, and when the other kids picked on me and I
had to remind myself that the only way out was not to kill them, the Plyushchevyy Mishka
never once came to my rescue. So I would cut it, throw it across the room and leave it in a
dusty corner for days, but it was all I had, so I always went back for it"

Plyushchevyy Mishka. Teddy Bear.

The only company a little Brooklyn could kill and neglect over and over but it never turned
its back on her.

Damian was quiet, staring at the bear with a wavering stare.

Instead of trying to decipher it, Brooklyn reached into the bag and fished out the last item, the
broken edge of a mirror. It was small enough to be concealed by a toddler's hand but sharp
enough to cut through skin.

The Wayne moved his dazed gaze to behold the small thing resting on his leg.

"When I was adopted, I used to keep this as a weapon so I could sleep soundly at night. I
didn't trust any of them not to kill me, so I kept it on hand every day as the only weapon I
could have that would not get me sent back to the orphanage for poor conduct" Brooklyn said
softly, eyeing her reflection on it where a child had once stared at herself.

Damian slowly put each item back, inspecting each one more time before he did so. He was
probably so confused, perhaps a little grossed out by what her life used to be like since he'd
always been raised in the lavish League or the grand Wayne Manor.

Standing up from the bed, Brooklyn went to look out the window into the bustling city
beyond as she added "I carried around that box since I was seven like makeshift luggage. It
was all I was, now its just the sorry remnants of my childhood that I can't bring myself to
throw away"

At some point, Damian had moved beside her without her knowing. He too stared out into the
city, but said as gently as he was probably able to, "You don't have to throw it away. Its a part
of who you are, and I suppose I'm honored you trusted me enough to share it"

Brooklyn fought the urge to lean against the window pane or let out a loud breath, instead,
she smiled up at him.

"You aren't appalled by it? That part of me is clearly not very pretty" she said amusedly, more
for her benefit than to make a joke.

He reached out then, squeezing her hand once in comfort as he replied confidently, "I'm not
appalled by any part of you. You are Brooklyn, and all of you is the girl who's my friend.
Others may gawk, some won't understand, but I will never turn away from you. We
promised"

Though she knew Damian had never been one to favor kind words, what he'd just said felt
like a warm cocoon around her body and mind.

No one, not even her parents, had seen all of her and not taken a step back. There were times
when they'd shied away in pity or worry, sometimes even fear, even Peter had a few
times...but Damian would not, not anymore or ever again. That was enough for her to step
closer to his side, the smell of her detergent radiating off him along with his cologne, as they
watched the lights of the city beyond together.

****

Eventually, Damian had declared he had to get back home, and once he was dressed back in
his Robin suit, mask on and ready to go back to Gotham, Brooklyn stopped him.

"Its dark already, and getting back will take forever, especially since the weekend is near"
Brook said, trying not to think about how everyone was busy on missions and Brook would
likely just stay home alone in that case.

But that wasn't the point as to why she had stopped him.

"GIL, bring suit 1-A to the balcony" Brook said to the house, and in an instant, a black metal
suit emerged from the linen closet where her thinner and newer golden suit remained 'parked'
as well.

When it opened and greeted Damian by name, Brooklyn couldn't help but chuckle at her
recent discovery.

As she helped Damian into the suit, she told him, "Yesterday when I programmed it so that
Yelena could use it to go to the Kent farm, I noticed GIL had let you have control as part of
the coding of the suit aside from me, likely because of the special status I gave you"

Damian frowned at the way the suit closing around his legs, but he asked "And now you have
to program it again to let me use it?"

The girl watched as the suit closed around his chest, leaving only his black hair and domino
masked face visible.

"I never changed it" she admitted, "The suit answers to you as it does to me, in fact, the only
thing I changed was that you could have access to all my things, including GIL"

Even with the mask, Brooklyn could tell Damian's eyebrows shot up his forehead in surprise.

"Why?" he asked simply.

With a smile, Brook replied honestly, "Because I trust you, and in case of an emergency, I
want you to be safe. I won't go through thinking you are dead again, that was extremely
annoying you know! At least this way GIL can fly you out of danger and you can have access
to my home without it killing you when you come through the balcony"

Damian scoffed, "You should've left me that day, saved yourselves from the bomb if you
thought I was dead"

Not this again.

He'd said it once before, explained how foolish Brooklyn had been to stay at his side that
night when HE could've died.

"I would've never left you, the one person I trust above all else" Brooklyn said, moving to
stand closer to the suit as she added, "I made you a promise, and if it meant dying by your
side, then it would been a death worth having. There is nothing more to it"

Brook would've stayed. His life was hers to protect, and if Brooklyn had failed her friend,
then at least she would leave this retched world by his side.

Damian's frown lessened then, replaced by a weak smirk as he said, "If you trusted me so
much, you would've told me your real name by now, my beloved"

She couldn't help but chuckle at his words, remembering a time when they were still enemies
and she'd refused to say it. Even back at the Kent home, Brooklyn would've never mentioned
it no matter how kind those people were.

Like the worn shoe box inside her room, it was private knowledge.

"Its one of my must treasured secrets, Dami" she said sarcastically, then added, "The day you
become by best friend above all others I'll tell you my real name, how does that sound?"

The Wayne looked like he might argue, but then nodded.

As the helmet closed around his head, Brooklyn waved at the flying suit that disappeared into
the night.

She smiled, realizing her early melancholy from the school day had vanished completely just
by this single visit. Brook was in high enough spirits to call her mom, tell her about the dance
Harley had securely scored a date for.

Mom had been ecstatic, mentioning Harley had been smiling about it all day, that Tony had
told her all about it after their little bonding day. Apparently that had gone very well, enough
so that dad was working reverently at the lab with newfound inspiration. Even Yelena had
shared her news of going with Jon, which Brook confirmed to her mom.

When asked if she had a date, Brooklyn snuck a glance at the dwindling fireplace where all
of her letters had disappeared into.

"I'm going alone, spending time with my friends once I'm there" Brooklyn replied, smiling at
the notification on TV from GIL that Damian had been dropped off safely and the suit was on
its way back.

Mom was quiet for a while, then asked why that was the case, why she hadn't gone with
someone like Peter?

Because I'm not MJ, she almost replied.

"Its better this way. He already has a date and..." Brook replied lazily, "I'm not very date
worthy, plus this way dad won't try to kill any poor guy who dares to ask"
Mom had not been able to argue that logic, and they ended their conversation talking about
next week's planned Thanksgiving dinner with chuckles and longing for Steve's and Wanda's
dishes.

When the suit came back later into the night when she was getting ready to go to bed, it did
not go back to its linen closet in the hall. Instead, the suit stopped right before Brook, opening
up to reveal no one inside.

But there, inside feet space of the suit was a small object.

At first she though it might be a gadget that feel out of Damian's suit, but it could not be.

It was a toy fighter plane, a World War II replica by the looks of it. With it came a note
written in assassin code and familiar writing.

You showed me your box, I suppose this is part of mine. This was my first toy as a child, one
my brother Richard have to me thinking I was foolish enough to want to waste my time with
toys. But I too kept it, now consider it yours as a reminder that there was another kid out
there who held an empty and violent childhood like you did.

If you tell anyone, I will deny knowing what it is though.

Brooklyn laughed, but tenderly cradled the little plane to her desk, placing it under the four
photos with her friend.

The Stark couldn't help but go to sleep grinning like a fool that night, sneaking glances at the
toy plane a little boy with green eyes had despised as much as she had the red Plyushchevyy
Mishka.

Almost like how they'd once despised one another.

******

Tony Stark POV-

It was the day after his very successful bonding day with Harley, and Tony felt like he'd done
parenting right yesterday. Filled with that sense of accomplishment and sending a middle
finger to his own dad's inability to parent as Tony had yesterday, the man made his way to
Pepper's office where he knew she liked to drink coffee sometimes.

He had a mission to leave for soon, so he wanted these last moments of joy with her before
Tony had to spend a few days in the company of the insufferable Wayne and his family.

Pepper had been asleep when he finally made it to bed last night, and the billionaire was
excited for them to talk about Harley's date success some more, that was until he walked into
the office and noticed her frown, and the ones of the other Avengers.

They should be leaving to get ready for their missions soon, why spend their free time here?
"I know my son just scored a date and we're all excited to start choosing ties and suits, but
why are you here with my fiancee?" Tony said, tying not to direct that last part towards
Steve.

Pepper sighed, leaning back on her chair as she said, "Because I talked to Brooklyn yesterday
and now we're all worried"

Worried? Why?

Was she hurt? Injured? Overwhelmed by work?

Maybe he should fly by on his way to the jet today? Should he call Daphne or was it too
early?

Settling on the chair beside Pepper's, Tony suddenly realized something crucial. There was a
school dance...Brook and Harley went to the same school?

"Don't tell me Peter grew some balls and asked my little girl to the dance, because if so I
volunteer as the chauffeur for that night. I've been working on an intimidating dad speech for
weeks now" Tony said, but no one seemed amused.

On the couch on the left, Nat, Wanda, and Clint seemed angered by the thought, especially
Natasha.

The cluster of cozy chairs on the other side of the room wasn't much better, Steve, Banner,
Rhodey, and Sam seemed more concerned than angry by the words.

Vision was the only one who seemed calm at the moment.

Unsure what the problem was, Tony turned to his girlfriend.

"Peter is going with someone else, Tony. Brooklyn doesn't have a date, she's going alone"
Pepper said.

Some protective part of Tony was pleased at the idea that no guy would go with his daughter
to a school dance the billionaire knew was not ready for, he'd been to plenty school dances
himself after all, he knew what went on there.

But the other part of him understood the worry everyone else had, it was enough to bring a
frown to his face.

Could Brooklyn not going with anyone mean she did not trust a soul to go with? Was she
pulling away again? Was this some Red Room issue that needed to be addressed? Or had
Tony been a negligent father?

"I'm worried that with all of these adult responsibilities, the company, SHIELD, patrols...that
its not letting Brooklyn have a normal childhood" Steve said, "What if she thinks being alone
is necessary, if she won't let herself have the youth she deserves?"

It was a good point, but not one Tony agreed with.

"Brooklyn doing great at everything, unless you haven't noticed?" Tony countered, "She's
excelling in everything she's doing, and the times I told her she could take a break or slow
down, Brook has refused"

Steven stood up then, hand running through his ridiculous beard as he shouted, "School
experiences are important Tony! More so than any mission or duty! She's just a kid!"

Again, that buried anger arose.

Tony was reminded the man before him was the one who'd willingly kicked his ass to save a
criminal who had killed Tony's parents. That no matter now much the Stark tried to push that
little betrayal aside for the sake of the team now, it had happened.

Perhaps Steve got a kick of arguing against Tony like they had with the Sokovia Accords
years ago, that had driven the team apart! It had made half of this room chained to trackers
like misbehaved dogs.

Now Steven Rogers was trying to tell Tony how to be a proper father....oh no, not today he
wouldn't.

"Listen up here 'Star Spangled Abraham Lincoln beard'! You don't get to tell me that I'm
doing a poor job as a father when you did a pathetic job as a leader!" he yelled back, almost
standing up from his chair.

"Brooklyn is getting caught in all of these dangerous situations, you don't think that will
make her hesitant to settle down one day? To open up to someone to love or crush on like a
normal kid?!" Steve yelled back, ignoring the stretched out hands from Sam and Rhodey as
he added, "She's fought enough! Brooklyn deserves something better than the youth we all
had!"

Fed up with the bullshit, Tony slammed his hand on the table once.

"Brooklyn is strong and smart and I believe in her! You don't think I worry every day she
goes out on patrol? That I don't stay awake at night wondering how she's doing, that perhaps
giving Brook the space to figure herself out is not the right call? I love my little girl, and no
one feels more guilty for all she has been through than me! But if I start making her sit on the
sidelines again, not only will she ignore me, but Brooklyn will feel as if I'm not supporting
her! My dad, your cherished friend Captain, was never there for me the way it counted! I
won't loose her like that!"

Steve's eyes softened for a few seconds, but then the idiot added, "But maybe she needs more
normalcy! We all saw the SHIELD files last week! She killed dozens and dozens of people
since she moved to New York! She killed an assassin found in a sewer dump! She almost
killed Harley Quinn a few days ago too! Maybe she doesn't need to fight! Maybe she needs to
rest!"

He'd seen the reports himself, had hacked into Fury's files out of curiosity for that crossed out
information on his daughter.
Tony knew what Brook had done, but she had changed since then, she was changing for the
better!

But who was Steve Rogers to give Tony orders? Those days were over as soon as he refused
to sing the accords that would've made everyone's lives easier.

Tony and Steve met in the middle of the room, both ready to spout everything they'd held
back for years it seemed. Or they would've, if Natasha hadn't flipped them both on their backs
and onto the carpet.

"You two idiots don't get it!" Natasha said, not quite screaming but she was clearly flustered,
"Brooklyn does have feelings, for Peter! Thats the problem! She has finally chosen to open
up to those kinds of feelings but...I don't know what heartbreak can do to her!"

The room went silent.

Tony was still trying to recover from the body flip, but his mind was glitching.

Brooklyn had a crush on Peter...their Peter Parker? And he was going to the dance with
someone else. As a teen, that was probably one of the hardest things to experience, the sting
of young love left unrequited.

Tony wasn't sure if he wanted to kill Peter or knock some sense into himself for not noticing
his daughter liked someone. Unlike Harley, she was still guarded with emotions, and Tony
had been patient enough to give her time to sort them out...but he'd never imagined
something he'd once joked about to himself might come true.

Between them, Natasha clutched her shoulder-length red hair in frustration.

"Brooklyn is my sestra, and though I never promised to keep that information private from all
of you, it is still a betrayal of her trust. Sure, I figured it out and cornered her on it, but if
Brooklyn finds out I told you all, I'll kill you" Natasha warned, earning nods from everyone,
even Vision.

They couldn't act without Brooklyn knowing they knew her secret, nor could they ruin Peter's
date for the sake of Tony's daughter.

It was a predicament, one Tony was not sure how to solve.

"Lets not panic" Pepper said, "When we talked, she seemed to be doing well, she wasn't sad
or crying in the least. Maybe we can trust that just as she's been able to figure out life so far,
she can do so with this"

Still shaken by the words mentioned, Tony still wanted to go visit Brooklyn, even when he
had big missions ahead for the next few days since they may have spotted the Joker at last.
There was no time to go now, not as Bruce Wayne was announced to be waiting in his jet
outside the compound.

Shit....
 As Tony went to kiss Pepper goodbye, once they had done their routine of promising to stay
safe an all that, she said softly, "I'll talk to Brooklyn while you're gone, see if she wants to
talk about it. You just make sure you come back to us soon. We may not be able to fix the
past, but we can give our daughter her first Thanksgiving dinner the right way at least. Ok?"

Tony knew Brook was in good hands and he thanked Pepper for it. But as he and the others
made it to the giant jet, he couldn't help but worry for his daughter, glad her emotions and
trust were expanding, but not very happy at the cost.

Maybe he could fix it when he retuned? No, Tony WOULD fix it, whatever it takes.

Because he would not be a sorry excuse of a father like Howard Stark.

Chapter End Notes

Hope you guys will enjoy part 3 of the book! This is arguably my favorite part from this
book (there will likely be two more books after this one ). I actually cried a few times
planning out this section, I really challenged myself when it came to what's to come too.

(Cover art by Elithienart and made by Maisy)

 Damian's Detective Work

Peter POV-

Peter was always sad when the rain came, not only because it made swinging around the city
harder, but also because it made him feel caged to be indoors all day.

With Mr. Stark and the others gone, it was Fury who called to make sure he and Brooklyn
stayed home for the day until later when the rain subsided and patrols could resume.

Still riding the high euphoria of being able to take MJ to the dance in a few weeks, Peter was
currently heading over to Brooklyn's apartment so he could get her opinion on some suits and
ties. Normally Peter did not have the money for such things and opted to wear some old suit
from his dad's old clothes.

But SHIELD payed very well, and Peter found no harm pulling a little money from his
savings to look good at the dance and impress MJ.

It was late in the day, when Brooklyn usually busied herself with work, which is why Peter
merely put his finger on the scanner and since their meeting was planned, GIL let him inside
with a warm greeting.

"Welcome back Mr.Parker...we-welcome" GIL's Russian voice faltered.

Peter frowned at the door for a second, then realized the constant rain, maybe even the
lightning that struck every ten minutes had probably made the A.I. lag a bit. No matter how
good technology was, nature and the elements would always be greater after all, or at least
thats what Captain Rogers always said.

Once inside the warm home, Peter was almost shocked to hear the TV was on. That was
peculiar, considering Brook never watched TV until later in the day. That chilling sense
across his body made Peter pause at the door, the sense that came with his abilities and
always seemed to warn when there was something amiss.

Remembering what Brooklyn taught him recently, Peter took out one of his web shooters and
slowly closed the door behind him. On the table by the door, was a simple bouquet of
flowers, the ones Mr. Stark always sent to brighten his daughter's home every week. But
inside the vase, Brook had taken to hiding a taser gun, one she'd sworn was not powerful
enough to kill someone.

This was probably silly, maybe Brook just decided to take a break from work?

But she'd always reminded him to be weary of the things out of place, that it was always
better to be cautious. If it weren't for the fact that odd things always seemed to happen around
them, Peter might've laughed it off.
Grabbing the taser gun with shaky fingers, he searched his mind for the lessons Brooklyn had
instilled into his mind.

Keep to the walls, don't ever go into a room before pointing that weapon first, be ready to
shoot at a moments notice. Don't forget that once you pass a few rooms, even if you are
certain they are empty, keep an eye on your back. If you give the assailant an opening, it's
over.

Ok, Peter could do this....its not like he hated weapons or anything.

After a calming breath, Peter did as he was told, silently moving against the hall wall with a
weapon ready to fire. There was no one in her room, the spare room, or the work space.

Further down, he noticed little things that made his heart quicken over the sound of the loud
TV.

A framed painting laid broken on the floor, its frame hidden by a small table. Now that he
was closer, Peter could smell the blood lingering on the polished wood.

Heart picking up, Peter made to get a better grip on his weapon, almost begging whatever
higher power existed that he wouldn't find Brooklyn drugged with pain again.

As he moved closer and closer to the open space of the apartment , the changing lights from
the TV screen made it almost eery. It was with a final steading breath that Peter whirled onto
the kitchen only to find some broken plates, a singed mark on the wall and more blood on the
floor.

No...no.

Despite the urge to go running around the house to find Brooklyn, he knew she'd kill him for
being careless, so he forced himself to be quiet and quickly peek at the living room and
dining room.

Something told Peter then and there that it was far too late for stealth then.

The gun went slack at his side as Peter beheld the state of the open space around him.

The couch had been knocked backwards, with a small cut on the arm rest. The coffee table
was in disarray, its papers scattered all over the floor. Though not many, Peter could still see
bullet like singe marks on the walls with his enhanced vision, he could even smell them.

Though the dining table was intact, its chairs rested all across the room, as if they had been
thrown or scattered in a hurry.

One quick visit to the nearby bathroom, and Peter found it completely empty.

What truly stopped his heart was the open windows of the balcony and a little device lodged
into one of GIL's control centers. No wonder the alarms hadn't gone off, that GIL had lagged,
she had been tampered with.
Brooklyn wasn't here....something or someone had taken her and...and he had no clue what to
do with the Avengers gone. Should he call the police? Maybe Happy would know what to
do? Ms Potts was busy at the company with Happy either way...SHIELD was busy too...what
backup could they possibly bring?

Peter was starting to really panic, having to sit down on the large table to gather his wits,
almost in tears when he realized he could be standing on a murder scene. But he was no
detective, how could Peter figure...

As fast as he could, the teen took out his phone and frantically sent a message through the
'Avengers Dynasty' group chat Ned had created yesterday, one he swore was safe since he
was constantly keeping tabs on so it wouldn't be hacked.

Maybe Peter had no clue where to start, but maybe others with training could.

He'd still been hoping Brooklyn would text him then, saying all was fine and she'd merely
decided to go to the store after she threw a fit over something like a sports game.

But everyone texted back but the Stark.

Long minutes of pacing back and forth went by as Peter waited, following Damian's
instructions not to touch anything with a panic.

When something landed on the balcony, Peter almost had a heart attack, but it was just Jon
with Damian and Ned by his side, all suited up for trouble. It was a good thing Jon's strength
was improving, otherwise that would've taken two trips.

Yelena was put on speaker as soon as the team came inside, since she was stuck back at the
compound.

Damian was the first to take in the surroundings with a frown, taking off his mask to scan the
area better. There was something about him in that moment, as if his aura emanated more
darkness than usual...it made Peter take a few steps back.

"Leeds, figure out what technology hacked GIL" Damian commanded, and Ned quickly
rushed over to the control panel, taking out equipment from his backpack as he too tried to
keep his panic at bay.

Peter could hear it loud and clear, Ned's quickened heartbeat, his breath panting. Yet Peter's
friend set to work despite the fear, and when he made to join Ned, Damian placed a hand on
the collar of his shirt to stop him.

Damian's eyes were dark, his frown deepened, hair still slightly disheveled from the flight.

"Tell me everything Parker" Damian said slowly, voice deep, "Don't leave a single detail out,
Brooklyn's wellbeing depends on it"

Peter had never heard Damian refer to her as Brooklyn. Not once.
Somehow, the urgency of those words, the use of her first name, it truly made the severity of
this situation come to life. So Peter tried not to stumble over his words as he explained
everything in detail while Damian went around the room.

Occasionally, Yelena would make Peter go to a corner of the room to inspect something or
another throughout the tale. Even she seemed on edge.

Jon was using his x-ray vision to make sure Brooklyn truly wasn't here, or that anyone of
worry remained hidden somewhere.

None of them wanted to say it, that Brook might've been captured either by the Joker or the
Red Room. None of those options were good in the slightest, it made Peter want to cry in
frustration.

It was Damian that found a syringe cap hidden between two fallen cushions. That had been
enough for the son of Batman to recount everything that had occurred, even if he hadn't been
there to witness it.

According to Damian, Brooklyn had been in the kitchen when the assailants came through
the balcony. It had to be three, five at most, but they had quickly disabled GIL.

They were clearly skilled enough to kill, but had not come to do so.

When Brooklyn heard the noise from their landing, she'd fought them, knocking a few down
onto the chairs in the living room, moving to get advantageous distance from their guns by
moving to the living room.

One used the fire of a gun, likely the one that brought down the framed art in the hallway, to
sneak behind her, pulling Brook onto the coffee table, then slamming her against the couch
with enough force to tip it over.

Disarmed and likely injured, Brooklyn could only fight the assailants with her Stark watch,
which explained the burn marks on the walls from re-directed shots that must've been caused
when her limbs were rendered immobile.

Someone had knocked her out then, injected with a dosage of chloroform Peter could actually
smell very faint traces of now that it was brought it. Brooklyn had been tied up then, small
hair-like remnants of the ropes remained on the floor as evidence.

They would not be able to go by car, but there were signs they used the fire escape to go up
instead. Likely had a helicopter fly by with a rope ready for pick up, or so Damian thought.

Now that Peter thought of it, a few hours ago, a helicopter had flown by, it had been so loud
Peter's poor ears had begun ringing thank to his enhances senses. Or perhaps that had been a
warning of what had occurred.

Without further explanation, Damian rushed over and ended the call with Yelena. Before
anyone could protest, the black haired boy said, "Take us to her, Parker. Now"
"How will that even help? We should go find Brooklyn!" Peter was cut off with a scowl from
Damian who was holding up a gun.

It took a few seconds for Peter to realize that wasn't Damian's gun and that he wasn't being
threatened with it.

"Don't you get it yet?" Damian shouted, motioning to the weapon like the answer was
obvious, "This is a Makarov pistol, the holes on the walls are from a submachine gun, a PP-
200. The smaller holes are from assault rifles, CZ 805. Russian, Russian, and Czech. The
signature weapons of the Red Room every agent carries"

"How do you know all that?" Jon asked, but Damian was already moving towards the
balcony as he replied quickly "Stark told me. And whoever came in here knew about GIL, so
either Yelena betrayed us, or we are dealing with something above our usual pay grade.
Either way, I plan to go make her talk"

Yelena would never betray them!

Peter wanted to argue it further, but was unable to as Jon took hold on him and Damian. Ned
was tasked to stay behind and analyze the technology used, see if it had a signal that could be
traced back.

So Peter spent the flight wracking his brain for signs that Yelena could not be trusted, a
thought that Jon argued against the entire way to the compound.

It was still raining when they arrived at the outskirts of the compound, and because the rain
had not stopped once, they were all soaked to the bone. It was a miracle they hadn't been
struck by lightning.

Leaving their suits behind in an alley, Jon and Damian wore simple shirts and pants that
would no doubt make them freeze even further, but Damian did not seem to care one bit as he
rushed over to the gates.

Before he could be shot, Peter waved at the cameras and the giant doors opened. The Wayne
set a harsh pace, rushing over to the main Avengers building where Peter mentioned Yelena's
room was.

No one at the front desk stopped them, not when Peter flashed as genuine a smile as he could
and mentioned a movie night was happening tonight. It wasn't until they were going up the
elevator that Peter felt small tears leave his eyes.

Even so, he noticed his companions were not doing much better.

Jon looked crestfallen for once, fingers wiggling nervously no doubt because of Yelena's
possible involvement. Even if he'd sworn her innocence on his life, the dread must still be
there.

The one person Peter expected not to be bothered by Brooklyn's disappearance was Damian
Wayne, but even soaked to the bone, he looked restless, eyes on his phone, muttering things
in another language under his breath.

Was that Arabic the Wayne was speaking?

Was he muttering in annoyance or genuine concern?

At this point, Peter was too busy trying not to collapse on the elevator floor and fall in a pool
of his own tears, and he was glad the doors opened to the Avengers floor as his resolve was
faltering.

When they found Yelena sitting before the large monitors in the Avengers mission lounge,
Damian wasted no time picking her up from the chair and slamming her agains the wall.

As Jon and Peter panicked, Damian yelled at her face, "Where is she!? Tell me where the Red
Room is keeping her!? Tell me why you betrayed her" the last part had been a deep and
terrifying whisper that sent the hairs on Peter's arm standing.

Yelena was calm all things considered, especially as she replied with her now familiar
Russian accent, "I did not betray my sestra, I'd never dream of it after all she has done for me.
The Red Room does have her, but in case you forgot, I turned my back on them!"

Damian remained still, scanning Yelena for lies, and when he found none, he released the
grip on her orange hoodie that was now ruined by dripping rain.

The Wayne stomped over to the nearest table and slammed his fist against he wood hard.

He cursed and then added, "She could be across the country by now...that bastard Ivan could
have her in his clutches and we don't know where to even start looking"

Yelena was helped from the floor by Jon's stretched out hand, and after they exchanged a
series of nods, the girl moved back to the monitors.

"If you'd said hello when you came in, I could've told you I have a way to find her" Yelena
said, ignoring everyone's shocked faces as she continued to type away into the computer.

Thats when Harley came in...still in his blue stripped Pjs and looking at everyone sleepily.

"Um, hi. What is...there is a Wayne here" Harley said, wide eyed and backing up beside Peter
for safety from what must've been a terrifying sight of the Wayne now, which even Spider-
man was afraid of....

"Where is my sister?" Harley asked Peter, "I thought she was staying in her loft this
weekend? Does she know he's here?"

It broke his heart to look at the boy, Peter couldn't even manage to be honest with the truth
until Yelena shouted over her shoulder, "It makes sense that Ivan would send someone after
Brooklyn once he realized I failed. He would've sent more assassins this time. They might've
scanned her home while we were all at school, which could explain the knowledge of GIL"
Yelena said as she continued to type away.
Harley clutched onto Peter's wet clothes, eyes bright with tears as he asked softly, "Is my
sister hurt? Peter, where is she?"

It was fighting every sob in his throat that Peter said solemnly, "We don't know, Harley. Some
bad people from the past took her. We're working on getting her back"

Harley's tears fell down his cheeks then as he whispered, "I lost a sister once, many years
ago. Please...I don't want to loose Brooklyn too...I can't lose her too"

Peter helped the young boy settle on the couch, unable to go comfort him further as the
screens above Yelena flickered and a loading screen came up.

"Brooklyn was the best assassin and spy in the Red Room for a reason" Yelena said with a
huff of annoyance, turning her chair around to face them as she added, "Since I attacked her,
my sestra became weary of retaliation from Ivan, so she prepared for the possibility that he
would send someone else try and get her before it even happened"

She had? Brook had never mentioned it.

When the screens stopped loading, a little black widow came up in the middle of the screens,
then a map of all New York surfaced, slowly honing closer to a location.

To further clarify, Yelena added, "She got Natasha to install a tracker not just on herself but
on me as well in case Ivan took me back for punishment. Now, it will take us straight to her"

That quickly, Jon, Damian, and Peter rushed to the table watching as the tracking came to a
standstill somewhere impossible. Well, not impossible....just terrifying.

She's..she's under the...that was not possible.

Brooklyn was under the Manhattan bridge, as in.... under water.

Peter tried to cover the view from Harley, but there were too many screens up on the wall and
as soon as the Stark's crying started behind them, Peter felt his own strength leave him as he
settled down on a nearby chair for comfort.

Brooklyn couldn't be dead... they were supposed to play Uno next week for the first time. She
was supposed to be at home burying herself with work...she couldn't be dead.

"Maybe Ivan decided she was more dangerous than he predicted and had her killed" Yelena
said, her voice not as confident as usual, but wavering slightly as she started up at the
screens, reloading them to make sure the data was accurate.

She mentioned the tracker was inside Brook's leg, so there was no way it was removed and
thrown into the water if they searched her clothes. That was where Brooklyn was.

After only the sounds of Harley's sobs and the blue light of the screens filled the room, it was
Damian who stepped away angrily, moving his hands to his back as if he wanted to reach the
katanas that were hidden outside the compound.
Peter watched the usually serious and stoic teen pant in anger, gaze moving to the large
window that looked out into the front of the courtyard where agents and carts were moving
about down below.

"Ivan better hope he made no such command" Damian said darkly, "Because if they drowned
her, I'm gonna kill whatever scraps of the Red Room survived, and I'm gonna make those
responsible suffer"

Peter had no doubt he would. He'd seen the Wayne train and fight to know such a threat
would be enacted with the best of his skills Peter had no doubt not witnessed yet.

When Agent Johansen came in to check on Harley since they'd apparently been busy playing
a video game, she stopped by the door, noticing the sober mood in the room and Brooklyn's
absence.

Then the agent rushed over to the screens and cursed.

It was Claire who snapped them into action then, who suggested they go take a look for
themselves. It was the agent Brooklyn had once joked to be a nanny of sorts that managed to
not only snap them out of their thoughts, but perhaps give them a little bit of hope.

Peter clung to that hope as he got his suit ready, he made himself remember all of Brooklyn's
smiles and laughter to keep himself focused. Still, when the agent shoved them into a van and
everyone got their suits back on, it was Jon who reached out a hand to Peter.

Spider-man took it without hesitation, watching as Yelena took Jon's free hand when it was
offered as well. Sitting on the bench before them, Damian was the only one who refused the
gesture, he just stared out the tinted windows, lost to thoughts Peter could not decipher.

Peter could only think that he had to get her back! He couldn't imagine life without her now,
he couldn't even think of what not seeing her again would feel like.

Brooklyn mean so much more to Peter than he'd realized, and when they got her back, he'd
make sure lived a life full of joy and love. He'd get her back.

At least they all knew one thing for sure...

Brooklyn was their teammate, and they would either rescue her...or avenge her.

*******

Brooklyn POV-

(This is a little graphic, if you don't like needles too much proceed with caution! You have
been warned)

Brook felt as if she were waking up from a dream. Only her head felt like someone had
thrown a boulder on it and she couldn't move her arms.
That feeling of paralysis made the Stark think this was likely a nightmare, a memory of her
days in the Red Room when she'd been strapped down for her yearly dose of painful
medicine meant to prepare her for torture in the real world.

There were voices around her, speaking in Russian she could barely make out.

But the pain felt...real, he body truly weak. It wasn't until she recalled the fight back in her
apartment that Brooklyn realized this was no dream, it was her nightmares coming to life.

Despite her panic, Brook waited until the voices faded slightly to open her tired eyes, only to
be met with the sight of a cave like structure made of metal, dripping with water in some
places. It was filled with crates of medical equipment, no doubt some weapons as well if this
truly was the Red Room.

Brooklyn wanted to curse as she realized that the paralysis, or rather extreme weakness of her
body, was not due to restrains at all. There was a metal stand beside her, with bag full of
blood that was still dripping in from the vein at her arm.

There were others in the metal table beside her, bags of her blood as Brooklyn was being bled
to death. A fitting punishment to not only keep her weak, but to make her suffer.

She was cold in her simple ensemble of black jeans and a t-shirt, no one had bothered with
blankets for the prisoner it seemed. Maybe they were mad she almost killed two of the back
in her apartment.

Had she actually killed them, then maybe Brooklyn wouldn't be here...

The voices around her picked up then, so Brooklyn was quick to close her eyes as their deep
voices began saying things in Russian more clearly. Past her massive headache, Brook heard
something about subject...sedatives.

They were going to sedate her again...

This had to be Ivan's orders. Sure, they would bleed her to the brink of death, then they'd
sedate her, hand her limp body to Ivan, and then the true torture would commence.

The Stark only had a few seconds to panic before she let her training take over, if she was
going to escape, she needed to be smart about it.

Pretending to be asleep, the teen waited until she was sure someone was about to inject her
with the sedative before summoning all her energy, taking the syringe and stabbing the guy
before her.

The small room burst into chaos instantly.

Brook reached out for the other syringes on the table by her makeshift bed, then with
weakened limbs, ran along the length of her bed and jumped down on the other four men in
black jumpsuits.
She was pleased to see they had not been able to grab their weapons as she knocked them all
unconscious with a dose each. The movement had cost her, Brooklyn was groaning at the
pain in her arm where she was still connected to the bags.

In one swift movement, the teen puled the needle out, then out of spite and anger, she took
the time to get all the blood bags and thew them into the small furnace in the corner of the
space.

They had tried to bleed her, no doubt would've given the blood to Ivan so he could send it to
her family as a taunt. She watched it burn briefly before stumbling over to the knocked out
bodies, ignoring the bleeding of her arm as she snatched a nearby robe to keep warm at least.

Though Brook had no clue how long she'd been out or where she was, the teen decided it was
best to leave the room. She was clumsy and still weakened by the blood loss, but she ran with
all her might down the dark hallways that looked like giant pipes. The water dripping form
above must come from a lake or river.

Despite the dizziness and fear, Brooklyn pushed herself, because she had to get back home.
Brook had many things to live for now, and she would fight for that life with all her strength
until it gave out, no matter what.

The Stark only stumbled when she heard noises behind her. Some part of her knew this place
wasn't the Red Room, that she'd likely been brought here quickly for cover. But Brooklyn had
no idea what the Red Room was no a days after its fall...maybe Ivan was around that corner
where all the yelling came from.

With that worry in mind, Brooklyn picked up the pace, only slowing down when an assassin
came into view before her. She knocked them out, one by one, despite the fact that every
excessive movement only succeeded in making her weaker.

Of course her Stark watch wasn't working when she needed it most, even just hearing GIL's
voice might've been a comfort, or Brook could've called for help...

Even when it would be much easier to escape by killing the enemies with her bare hands...she
just couldn't do it, even if it meant the difference between life and death. Brook had sworn
not to kill again not just to herself and Damian, but to her family too. So she went through the
more painful process to incapacitate, taking hits along the way and leaving the deadly guns
behind, knowing full well it would get her killed.

But at least it made her freedom last longer....

Her loved ones had been lenient with her on past killings and her most recent mistake with
Harley Quinn. Even in this situation, Brooklyn couldn't help but be afraid killing these people
would be like a last straw for them, that even Damian would never forgive her for it.

Damian....

As Brooklyn ran, the thought of his features saddened her for some reason.
Did her friends know she was missing? Did her family? Would Damian?

She knew she couldn't depend on the hope for rescue. Brook had been a kid once needing
rescue from the Red Room and no help had come....like always, the Stark felt she would just
have to rely on her own person to save herself.

But things weren't as they'd once been, Brook realized, as she knocked another woman onto
the cold floor.

Brooklyn had a team now....and family....maybe they would come after all...

Perhaps it was ok to fight with hope.

The pipes were long and confusing. There was no trace of light, no way to know if she was
headed the right way. All Brooklyn was succeeding in was making more enemies trail her as
she ran and ran, sometimes screaming in frustration when she thought a certain pipe wall
looked too familiar even when they were all the same.

Yellow lights were her only companion, but even they held no directions.

It was once she made it around a corner that Brooklyn had to dig her bare feet hard on the
concrete ground. Up ahead in the darkness, those same flickering lights revealed two figures
standing in the middle of the hall.

They wore familiar Black Widow suits with the red hourglass insignia. While all others she'd
fought had been mere servants or sorts, low class assassins, those two were about as skilled
as Natasha, Brooklyn, and Yelena combined.

How did she know that? Because those were two of her old instructors.

The sight of their still forms in the darkness made Brooklyn's heart hammer, eyes wide as she
noted the weapons they had in hand, the dark and deadly smirks on their faces that promised
nothing but pain.

One of them still had a scar across her face, she was the one who looked at Brooklyn with
scrutiny. Her hand moved to place the large daggers back in their holsters as she said in rough
English, "Look at the little spider, where is your trail of bodies little girl? Did we teach you
nothing worthwhile?"

Brooklyn felt like throwing up...she knew for a fact that winning agains those two in her
weakened state was not possible, not without weapons especially. It didn't help that memories
of the lessons and punishments they had bestowed a younger Brooklyn kept coming back in
flashes of painful memory.

One of Brook's hands went to the concrete pipe beside her, the only way she could steady
herself.

The other instructor, one of Ivan's most ruthless allies, stepped forward into the light then,
shaking her head in disapproval at the blood still leaking from Brooklyn's left arm.
"Look how weak the world has made you, our prized goose is no longer made of gold it
seems. She is brittle and weak like the metal around us. What happened to you all these years
away from home?" she asked.

Brooklyn was scared....she was so scared she couldn't even answer properly.

She could just barely dodge the punches and kicks from the two instructors when they
attacked suddenly, but Brooklyn knew they were going easy on her, that they were playing
with their food.

There came a point when the teen reached the end of the pipe during her retreating, where a
cluster of assassins were watching the show, blocking Brook's opportunity to run for her life
away from the crazy women before her.

Once they grew tired of the game and Brooklyn's strength was it its last reserves, the punches
started landing in her arms, back, and legs. One of them must've tripped her, but in the daze
of her headache, everything was slowing down, her eyes closing for far too long to feel the
pain.

When Brooklyn's wet hair plastered onto her face and her body lost the strength to fight, she
felt herself being dragged back the way she came, but she heard the instructors whisper taunts
and their disapproval sometimes.

They had no names, just like Brooklyn once. They had no fear or emotions, but they knew
where to strike at Brooklyn's own.

"Ivan has been waiting for his greatest experiment to come home, his little spider that was
supposed to set the world on fire for him. He will be glad to see you little one, or at least
what will be left of you by the time we return you to Russia" one of them said. Then the other
added, "Yes, our heiress will finally come home. She will be right after some proper
conditioning, as we get that brain of hers back in order with a proper blender"

Even with the pain and the promise of torture, Brooklyn's mind eased knowing Ivan was not
here. It made it easier to withstand the punishment of her defiance.

Brook had the vague sense of being tortured her with powerful shocks as voices yelled at her
to burn, to become a flame once more that burned for Ivan's glory. Even as the electricity
increased, Brooklyn refused to show weakness or scream.

She held it all back, gritting her teeth as Brooklyn reminded herself that she was not one of
them anymore.

She was Brooklyn Stark. A SHIELD agent. A future Avenger. The heir to the Stark name.

She was Brooklyn Stark. A daughter. A sister. A classmate. A teammate. A friend.

Not once since the torture began did Brooklyn relent, not once did she scream out for mercy
or give into their demands.
It only ended after what felt like days, or perhaps hours. Until they injected her with a
sedative and took her back to prepare for some rehabilitation for tomorrow.

Brooklyn passed out in fear, worrying what they would eventually turn her into, what she
would become once she was back in Ivan's clutches.

Traitors were not shown mercy, they were tortured after all....

As the world grew dark, Brooklyn couldn't help but think of her family, her friends, and the
Wayne she had not gotten the chance to talk to tonight.
 Manhattan Bridge
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Damian POV-

Why couldn't the stupid SHIELD agent drive faster?

Damian's head had been a whirlwind of chaos and disorder since he'd gotten the text from
Parker...since he'd left dinner with Pennyworth in a panicked hurry.

Nothing was right.

Everything was wrong and all Damian wanted to do is go back outside into the rain and
scream.

He'd once promised Brooklyn he'd come to save her, that he would never let the Red Room
get their hands on her. Now here he was, in a military van full of racks of weapons, stuck
with Belova, Jon, and Parker as they left in hopes of retrieving more than a dead body.

Damian had to believe Ivan viewed one of his assassins as something more than traitorous
flesh, that the man would think to keep her alive and that agent Johansen had been right about
there being a large labyrinth of pipes under the East River.

It made him angry to think of his beloved in their hands, but it pissed him off more pondering
on the possibility that she was dead instead. The Wayne could not let himself believe he had
failed his friend...not now as they rushed past the heavy traffic towards her.

Damian had never been one to believe in hope, he liked hard facts, believed things like luck
were ridiculous to begin with. But there was a strong panic inside him now, like a beast inside
his mind that roared in anger and something else he couldn't quite understand.

The only thing that stopped it from doing any damage was that flicker of hope, the wish that
his Brooklyn was still alive somewhere, holding on and giving those shits that captured her
absolute hell.

She was a fighter just like Damian, he had to believe she would defy everything at a moment
like this, perhaps even death itself.

The ride was long, and it got to the point that the Wayne couldn't help but snap at the others
when they whispered grievances and regrets. Like they thought Brooklyn was dead.

Jon had been forced to lake a few pieces of metal and fasten them like cuffs, preventing
Damian from bolting out of his seat again to attack Parker or Belova. Still Damian thrashed
and tested the metal for weaknesses, ignoring the looks of pity from Jon as he tried to get
free, to do what? He had no clue.
His last conversation with Brooklyn had haunted him since he saw the state of her home.

It was early in the morning when Damian had been in his room doing homework with the
company of Titus and Alfred the cat. Brooklyn had opened the line via their walkie-talkies
then, and the Wayne, as always, had been quick to answer.

'What is it beloved?' Damian asked, turning over to the next page of his history reading on
the battle of New York against Loki.

On the other end of the line, Brooklyn laughed.

'Our families just left for their missions, I was curious how you were doing' she said.

How was he doing? Well, he was annoyed for starters for not being able to go on the big
mission. But at least that meant his weird siblings wouldn't be speaking in code around him,
as if to rub in the fact that they could actually go.

'Father mentioned they won't be back till Monday, Pennyworth suggested we go to Paris for
some new paints to try and make up for the fact I did not get to go, like a child that needs a
pacifying prize' Damian replied annoyedly, even when the concept of new paints was not the
worst thing in the world.

His mind had reached for his sketching notebook more than ever these past few months, and
when Brooklyn's features appeared on paper now or on a canvas during an art club meeting,
Damian had not suppressed the creativity any longer, he let the pencil or paintbrush fly.

Of course, no one knew that.

'Maybe one day you can show me some of your art, the skilled abilities that earned you a
fancy car' Brooklyn mocked, but seemed genuinely interested at the same time.

His art was a very private thing that not even his father, mother, Richard, or his grandfather
had ever gotten to see often, if at all. Perhaps one day Damian WOULD share some simple
sketches with his beloved, let her see another part of himself that he kept hidden.

'Then when that day comes, I expect to see your ballet skills as compensation'

She chuckled.

'I thought you were going to ask for my real name in exchange' Brooklyn said, and Damian
was able to hear the sounds of blasting music in the background of her voice.

'You told me you'd reveal it when there was nothing but trust between us, when I became
your best friend above all others' Damian replied, then added hesitantly, 'when that day
comes, I too will tell you my real name'

Brooklyn gasped, 'You have another name!? Ok, it's a deal then! Art for ballet, and name for
name. As always, it is a pleasure making deals with you Dami"
Damian couldn't fight the slight smile the crossed his features as he replied, 'The feeling is
mutual my beloved'

That had been it, their last conversation from this morning, when they thought they had time
and years ahead of them. Damian couldn't help but fight the metal at his wrists and legs
harder still, even if it made Parker scared, even if it caused Jon to frown in worry.

It was Belova that said, "Save that fighting for later, demon. If she is alive, we'll have plenty
of time to get to her" then began fidgeting with the gauntlets she'd taken from Brooklyn's
room in the compound to use as weapons for this mission.

When Damian was able to activate them, everyone had been shocked to say the least, and
now the teen was wondering if giving Belova that weapon had been a mistake.

The fact that the blonde was wearing something of Brooklyn's and still had the audacity to
say 'If'...

"Plenty of time? Time in which she could be spent hurt or suffering! He could be suffering
her fate!" Damian bit back.

When Parker and Jon seemed confused, Belova said soberly at last, "Traitors are not dealt
with kindly by assassin code. If Brooklyn is alive, she will be tortured for days, weeks, until
her body gives up. If Ivan does not put her brain back in a blender and decides to spare her,
then that punishment will give us time to get to her"

Parker was crying then, clutching his web shooters nervously as if he had no clue what to do
with that information.

Belova knew he was the heir to the League of Assassins, she knew that there was no one who
knew the assist code better. The chances of Ivan the Great sparing Brooklyn for her crimes
were slim though, she was just an assassin amongst thousands after all.

Once the van came to a stop, Jon reached over to take off the restrains, but before he did,
Damian's friend whispered, "Remember what your dad taught you in there. Justice, not
Vengeance"

'Don't kill' is what Jon was trying to say.

Once free and outside the van, the rain was still going strong, the only source of light in their
plot of land being the lightning up above as it tore through the skies, the Manhattan bridge off
in the distance and looming above them.

Jon was sent up high to use his x-ray abilities to confirm the location of the pipes. Damian
waited nervously by the shore of the river, hell bent on diving all night, swimming until his
limbs came off if it came down to finding her body instead.

Thankfully, Jon came back down, red cape billowing with the wind as he mentioned there
WAS a maze of pipes running under the river. The closest maintenance entrance was not too
far, and though Jon was not able to make out one person from another, he had seen people
hiding inside the large industrial network.

All Damian wanted to do was rush in, but he knew that if the Red Room was involved, they
needed to play their cards right. They had the element of surprise on their side after all.

The first priory was to get Brooklyn, so they had to wait a while as Jon inspected the large
pipes, deciding their best bet was the area with the most people around, which was close to
the middle of the river, right under the bridge where Brooklyn had also been shown to be at.

Jon did his best to describe the best route possible and the amount of people who would stand
in the way. Once they had at least three exit plans, everyone got their weapons ready and
made it down the hidden entrance by a guarded post from the city.

They went down one by one into the dark hole below, letting Parker set down a web to cradle
their fall so they could minimize the noise of their arrival.

Once inside, Damian noted the place was indeed large, it was humid, cold, and the pressure
from the water above was a steady reminder that they couldn't use abilities or weapons too
powerful in here unless they wanted to drown to death.

But just as they were restricted in their weapon capabilities, so would the enemy.

Just as Jon had said, there were many assassins down here, but they did their best to avoid
being spotted, at least until they were able to find Brooklyn, to make their lives easier.

Only the sound of the water dripping from their bodies could be heard, but it was easily
mistaken by the dripping from the pipes to cause any sort of alarm.

Getting around the structure was the easy part, something that went on without a hitch as they
reached the section Jon had spoken about. It looked like a boiler room of sorts, something
maintenance no doubt utilized and kept these pipes working and clean when water was
needed on hot and dry months.

Had any service worker been down here when the Red Room decided to set up a temporary
base for their kidnapping? Could someone have died already at the expense of vengeance?

Jon stood before the door with Parker, both ready to kick open the metal door while the rest
waited on the sidelines read to attack. As soon as the door collapsed by the joint strength of
the two, Damian, Belova, and agent Johansen rushed inside to find four men in tight black
suits, each standing by a medical-like set up where a body lay still and almost out of view.

Damian did not bother shouting orders, he rushed over to the men all on his own, bringing
them down quickly and painfully, fighting the urge to snap their necks or get his katanas to
slice them in half.

He let that red anger cloud his vision briefly, let it take down the men and make sure they
stayed down, but not dead. It had been an effort to leave them relatively unharmed, especially
when he turned to see Brooklyn, pale and unconscious, strapped to machinery with dozens of
wires.

Some machines Damian recognized as torture devices for shocks that could be as deadly as
Brooklyn's gauntlets. Others were for freezing limbs or even saws meant to cut off limbs, but
those were not turned on at least.

Damian pushed past the agent and Belova, snarling at Jon and Peter to guard the entrance as
he rushed towards Brooklyn.

She looked so cold, so pale....so still.

The Wayne fought the hesitation in his mind as he grabbed one of her arms, pushing aside the
robe to feel a faint pulse. It was there, faint but an indicator of life Damian had been hoping
for under her Stark watch, which was useless while GIL was still faltering.

His beloved was alive.

Though he knew they were short on time, Damian cradled her face into his hands, whispering
her name gently as her eyelids opened. Brooklyn seemed dazed and confused for a while, but
once her brown eyes met those hidden by his domino mask, she seemed to sigh in relief.

"Damian?" she whispered weakly as if in need of confirmation.

Robin began discarding all the cables connected to her bare legs, her arms, collarbone and
temples as he whispered back over and over, "Its me. We're getting you out. I'm taking you
home"

She smiled weakly once he unfastened the last of the cables on her temples , his hands
moving to cup her cold cheeks. Thats when he noticed all the ice on the tables behind her, as
if they had kept her cold, to freeze her to death.

"You actually came" she whispered faintly.

Damian felt a tightening feeling in his chest at the words, especially when he knew she was
weakened, perhaps too much so to remain talking for much longer. As carefully as he could,
Damian carried her bridal style, cradling her cold body close to his chest and winding her
arms around his neck.

The Wayne almost sighed in relief when she buried her face into the juncture of his neck and
collar, as her breathing on his bare skin became a reminder that she was still alive.

Realizing the outside was getting a little noisy, Damian said to everyone, "We keep to the
formation we planned. No one strays from it, no one gets left behind. Got it?"

Everyone nodded.

As planned, Jon moved to the front so he could scan for upcoming enemies. Before him was
Belova, ready to fight anyone that came their way. Damian would carry Brooklyn in the
middle, keeping her guarded from everything. Behind the group would be Parker and the
agent. If anyone came, Parker would shoot webs to slow them down while the agent would
take care of enemies that managed to get closer.

With that formation in place, Jon led them down the fastest path to the surface where the
agent had already parked the van for their quick getaway. They had to make it there quickly
though, Damian was not a medic, he wasn't sure how much time Brooklyn had.

Almost as soon as they came outside, the sounds of Brooklyn's gauntlets went off, and behind
him, Damian could hear webs being shot and the grunts of the agent taking down a few men
and women on their way.

Their plan for leniency had changed quickly, because even when they brought assassins to
their knees or knocked them out, they would rise back up again in defiance, each attack no
longer meant to stop the group, but kill them.

Belova shouted, "If we keep them alive, even if we manage to escape, they will report to
Ivan. We need to kill them so they don't get reinforcements later, let this serve as a warning to
scare off the Red Room!"

Damian knew she was right, but more than that, that they would not be able to escape here
with all of these skilled assassins ready to kill. They were made to fight until they died after
all. Even if the group escaped, they would be followed, and maybe more people on the
surface would die as a result.

Taking all these assassins as prisoners would not even be possible to begin with.

But still...

"We don't kill!" Damian shouted, keeping his light jogging steady as he said so.

Surprisingly, it was agent Johansen that replied dryly, "Then don't. Belova and I have
SHIELD orders to kill out of control threats. You kids keep your hands clean, Yelena and I
will make sure to do the right thing"

Before Damian could think to argue, even when he did not really want to, the two were
shooting rounds at the incoming enemies, at last quickening their pace and insuring a safer
escape. He could argue the rightness and wrong of it all later, especially because Brooklyn's
voice was now whispering in his ear.

"You found me, Dami" she said weakly, her arms becoming looser around his neck.

Damian fixed them back into place, still keeping in stride as he huffed back gently, "You still
owe me a dance beloved, I couldn't let you leave"

Because Damian would get her out, they would go to that stupid high school dance, and
somehow, he'd get to relish in the fact that she was alive then.

He couldn't get the image of that awful state he'd found Brook in minutes ago, surrounded by
machines, empty syringes by her side with endless files around her....Damian had no idea
what she had endured these past few hours.
A part of him did not even want to know.

The journey continued though, as everyone paved the way for Damian and Brooklyn to get
through untouched. Somehow the journey to the surface felt longer this time around, but
maybe it was because they were being attacked this time.

Damian was too busy panicking to care, he felt Brooklyn's hold continue to loosen, her body
spasming from time to time, she was even beginning to loose consciousness for seconds at a
time. He'd commanded she stay awake each time, shook her body a few times when it
seemed like she'd closed her eyes for too long.

Just as Belova shot three assassins before them, as Damian jumped over their dead bodies, he
heard Brooklyn whisper softly into his ear "10452"

Damian tried not to let the confusion slow him down.

"What? Is that a code for a door?" he asked, debating to make her stop talking so she could
save her strength, but curiosity had won over by then.

Weakly she cupped his cheek as Damian ran, and replied with somber eyes, "Thats my
name... my real name. 1 0 4 5 2"

Damian panicked at the tone of her voice, at the saddened urgency in which she finally
revealed one of her greatest secrets, "You don't get to say that to me now, like you're saying
goodbye! Stay awake damn it! Stay with me!" he yelled in frustration, watching as she settled
back on his chest, her wet hair falling around her frame.

Damian was so focused on his panic that he almost collided against Belova's back, the others
behind him almost doing the same with the Wayne.

There, standing calmly before the exit were two women, one with dual swords and the other
with an array of guns strapped to her body.

Belova was shaking before him, even as Jon who was full of tears, began trying to snap her
out of whatever panic had taken hold of her.

"Another little widow that left the web. Everyone thought you were dead" one of the woman
said towards Belova mockingly, "Daughter of Ivan, hand over your sestra, hand over Ivan's
prized flame and you shall be rewarded"

The last of the gunshots were heard behind Damian, but his attention was on Belova, who
seemed to be arguing with herself. He was about to ask the agent behind him to shoot the
blonde before she could follow orders, when Belova turned to Jon.

They looked at one another, Jon's blue eyes begging the girl by his side not to do it.

Just when Belova turned to face Damian, he was almost ready to get one of his katanas
somehow when the teen merely brushed some of Brooklyn's wet locks away from her face,
gently and fondly.
Turning back to the women, Belova extended out her arms, letting the gauntlets expand all
the way across her forearms. They were cackling with deadly electricity that swirled around
the metal like arcs of blue solar flares.

Steadily, she said to the women, "You were wrong about the world. There is meaning to it,
things outside of orders, blind loyalty, and killing. Brooklyn Stark showed me that gift,
trusted me with it...and now I will fight for it"

The black gauntlets flared blue in between its cracks, and they molded to fit like Iron-man
blasters around the teen's hands.

"Are you defying orders?" the woman with a horrid scar across her face questioned, almost in
disbelief.

The blonde chuckled, "Yes vladelets. This is your punishment, for all you have done to the
young girls who came before and after me and my two sestras . Let Brooklyn Stark's mercy
end you for your crimes, and let it be a promise for Ivan's demise to come"

Vladelets. Masters.

These were the women who trained his beloved, the ones who had no doubt had a part in the
scars across her back. Damian could feel them now, the palm of his hand could feel the deep
and rough edges of punishments these women had deemed worthy.

With one last look towards Jon, something perhaps meant to be soothing, the teen stepped
forward, breaking into a light jog as Belova attacked her masters.

In the blinding lights from the electricity being shot out, the flickering light above his head,
and the gun shots fired, Damian was not able to see very much of the exchange between
apprentice and teacher. Even as the chaos before and behind him ruffled his hair with blows
or air, as electricity lit up Brooklyn's pale face, all he could focus on was the name she'd
mentioned.

10452.

1 0 4 5 2.

She was Brooklyn Stark now, she was his beloved now too.

Damian ignored the shouts and screams as he beheld her fluttering eyes, the golden necklace
resting on neck glistening with each flicker of electricity.

She was smiling at him.

It wasn't long before, Damian was brought back to reality, as Yelena stood below the
entrance, ready to climb up to their freedom.

Robin barely caught it, movement from one of the bleeding and dying women as she raised
one of her guns...an alien gun...and pointed it at the pipe wall beside her.
"For Ivan..." she'd whispered angrily then, staring right at Damian as they locked eyes.

Before Damian could tell Jon, a shot had been fired, and spreading cracks on the wall made
them all pause just before the pipe broke and water began rushing inside faster than Damian
would've liked.

It made his stance falter slightly, but he forced his feet to keep steady against the rising
current.

Just as Yelena had grabbed one of the daggers from a corpse and stabbed the scarred woman,
the water began to rise higher, the might of the East Riven falling down on them closer with
each spreading crack.

Jon rushed over to the exit while Parker began shooting webs to try and mend the cracks, but
two more of the dying assassins behind them shot the pipe above them, giving Damian and
the others only seconds to grab a gulp of air and hold on to the railing for the exit.

Despite the strong current and being submerged in water, Damian held onto Brooklyn with
all his might, almost letting go of his reserve of air when he noticed she began slipping. He
wanted to scream, do something, but all Robin could do was hold on right as the water played
with him like a rag doll.

Then Jon appeared before him, seemingly having less trouble keeping steady as he swam
over past the currents. Clutching Damian's collar, Jon 'flew' them through the crack above
them, seeming to push the water aside as they made their way to the surface.

Once above water at last, Damian coughed out water that had gotten up his nose during the
ascent, but his main worry was Brooklyn who was choking out water by the bucket fulls.

"Get the others" Damian instructed to Jon, "I'll swim us to the river bank"

Jon nodded, diving back down into the darkness with his red cape following suit.

Swimming was all easier said than done, though Damian was an exceptional swimmer, the
water was like a whirlwind trying to pull him back with each stroke as he kept Brooklyn atop
his back.

He fought the current, fought his exhaustion and worry with each kick until they were safely
laying on the grass, feet from the van.

Once he set his beloved down, making sure all the water had left her, he was glad to see she
was still conscious, eyes wide as she jumped down air greedily.

Thankfully, there were no casualties of their mission, the rest of the team and the agent swam
to the shore shortly after, laying by Damian and Brooklyn with their own exhaustion.

They watched as the river seemed to make a cyclone of sorts, as the water worked its way
through the old pipes.
Though he knew they all wanted nothing more than to stay and rest, he still ushered everyone
back in the van. Parker had reluctantly agreed to drive and Damian and the agent, who were
the only ones with medical knowledge, set on helping Brooklyn stay alive as Jon and Yelena
made sure they were not followed.

But when Brooklyn closed her eyes again....Damian felt his whole world stop.

***

Brooklyn POV-

The chirping of birds greeted her consciousness first, then the familiar feel of her fluffy
bedsheets atop her body.

Brooklyn was not in captivity any longer.

Still, some part of her worried that if she opened her eyes, she'd be back under a giant
spotlight, being prepped for another round of torture.

Pushing her cowardice aside, Brooklyn slowly opened her eyes for find she WAS in her
room. The sky outside was still dark, almost morning by the looks of it.

Though she still had the clothes form earlier, Brooklyn was warm under the covers and
relatively dry, only her arm sticking out was cold. For a terrifying second, Brook thought she
was being bled again, only to find red bags raised beside her with her coat rack, they were
pumping blood back into her form, not away.

On the side of the bed, Damian was sitting on her desk chair, his little toy plane in hand as he
beheld the polaroids on the wall.

When he noticed her shifting, her friend was quick to make her drink some water, checking
the small machine on her bedside as he did so.

"Where is everyone?" Brooklyn asked weakly, trying to sit up only for Damian to push her
back down. He looked tired, hair wet but wearing some of the spare clothes he kept in her
apartment.

"I made everyone leave so they wouldn't just be pacing around. Parker is keeping patrols
around the building. Leeds just finished installing further security with the SHIELD agent.
Jon took Belova back to the compound before they could notice her absence"

"You stayed" she said, "You came to save me"

A part of Brook had though it was a hallucination, thought he had not really come to rescue
her but was rather a hallucination beckoning her to the afterlife.

But Damian was here, everyone was safe, and Brook was no longer on her way to Ivan.

She let out a relieved sigh at that.

"It was ingenious to place a tracker on yourself" Damian said, removing the needle from her
arm and placing a lone badge in its place, "Had it not been for that..."

She would've died.

The beautiful thing about her torture from earlier was that they had planned to kill her, then
bring her back to life once her body gave up. Over and over until they could take her to Ivan,
until they could see if Brooklyn's absence had been detected.

The memory of that was...it made her restless.

Brook convinced Damian to help her recline on the bedrest, and once she was sitting
comfortably, feeling her body stronger already, the girl was surprised by the embrace that
pulled her close to Dami's chest.

He was hugging her...

"I thought you were dead" he whispered into her wet hair, running a hand along it as his other
cradling her back.

Brooklyn couldn't help but laugh at his words.

"It takes more than that to kill me" she joked, but melted into the embrace, bring her arms to
wind around his shaking body.

They stayed like that for while until Damian determined she needed further coddling before
some much needed rest. In an effort to help, the Wayne was able to drag her weak form to the
shower in the adjoining bathroom of her room.

He helped filled the tub with warm water to chase away the coldness of the river and the ice
from her torture. With her instruction, Damian filled the steaming tub with oils and soothing
scents she had laying around, a gift from Aunt May she'd never used.

Damian complained about such things being useless, but did not deny the smell of coconut
milk and eucalyptus was pleasant. Though he had to help set her on the side of the tub, Brook
was able to peel off her own clothes and get inside with him waiting outside the door.

After washing the blood, sweat, and river water off her body, Brooklyn felt like she'd taken a
soak in the fountain of youth. She felt more relaxed.

She felt like a bit of life had retuned.

Damian had left a robe by the side of the tub, and once she'd drained the water (with some
difficulty) and dried her body with the robe, the Wayne had come back into the bathroom
with a change of clothes, avoiding her eyes as he set them down beside her.

Had she not almost died, Brooklyn might've felt some embarrassment at the thought of her
friend going through private things like her underwear drawer. It seemed he had only picked
the first things available, because her underwear did not match in the least.
The Wayne had also provided a pair of her warmest sweatpants, the ones SHIELD provided,
and one of the black turtlenecks he'd left on his stash back in the guest room. It was warm,
more so than most of the sweaters in her room, so Brook put it on and even managed to place
her fluffy socks on all by herself.

Once she'd been carried back onto the bed, Damian had taken to tending to some small cuts
on her feet from her barefoot escape attempt.

He's asked for details on all that had occurred then, and Brooklyn had obliged him as he
worked.

By the time the wounds were tended to, Peter had knocked on the bedroom door, clearly
ecstatic she was awake at last. He seemed unharmed from what Brook could see, and he'd
come to drop off some food for her and Damian so that she could eat and regain her strength.

Damian did not let Peter in the room, ushering the boy still in his spidy suit to go home.
Thats when Brooklyn realized Damian intend to stay with her today, and by the looks of it,
there had already been a conversation about that while she'd been unconscious, because Peter
left with a wave and wishes for her health to get better by morning (as well as a plead for
Brook and Damian not to fight).

Also, before leaving, Peter made sure to ease Brook's mind by telling her none of the
Avengers had caught on to what happened, but Yelena had reported the crime place to
SHIELD so they could see if any criminals remained alive for questioning...but there were
only the dead bodies left.

Fury had found out, but he'd agreed it was best to let the Avengers focus on their mission, so
Brook didn't have to worry about her family bursting into the apartment and never letting her
see the light of day again. What she did have to worry about was Fury's order to not go on
patrols.

When Damian sat beside her on the bed, he'd made arrangements with Alfred to keep quiet,
making an excuse of staying with Jon here for a mission. Meaning, he would stay the whole
weekend to take care of her, and in his words, making sure one one came for her again.

By the time their Thai food was finished and she'd been able to go through her night routine
with Damian's assistance, Brooklyn was now comfortable in bed at last.

When Damian made to leave for the guest room, Brook couldn't help but panic slightly, even
if it made her weak...she was still worried she'd be alone again at the mercy of others.

She reached out for his arm.

"You don't have to stay if your not comfortable," Brooklyn began, feeling foolish for
sounding uneasy as she added, "but could you-"

Before she could finish, Damian left the room. Just like that.
 Well....it was understandable, though they had once shared a bed, it had been out of necessity.
Maybe he was ok with hugs and all that now, but Damian still had limits she would respect.

She was trying to close her eyes and will sleep to take her when Damian returned with a set
of pajamas on, hair dry. He set down some water on the beside, two glasses. When he urged
her to scoot over, Brooklyn had done so in a daze.

They remained on separate sides of the bed for a few minutes, just staring up at the ceiling in
silence when the bed shifted and Damian's arms carefully snaked around her body, resting on
her back and pulling her head to his warm chest.

"Don't ever make me feel like that again. Feel so hopeless" he whispered into the dark.

Brooklyn had no idea Damian had been so bothered by her disappearance, that he would care
so much. It reminded her of the time she had thought him dead, how raw panic and fear had
gripped her tightly, even more so than the thought of Ivan down in those pipes.

Had he felt something similar to that?

The Stark smiled against his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat lure her to sleep after the
less than pleasant day both of them must've had.

Still, before she succumbed to the realm of dreams, Brooklyn whispered, "Thank you"

Though sleep was luring, she still heard Damian's soft reply.

"Always, my beloved"

Nothing came to take her away that night.

Chapter End Notes

Wow! That was crazy! I've had this scene in my head for a long time now, it felt very
good to be able to write it at last. Now I only have two more scenes in this book that are
part of the original visions I had when I was first thinking of this story. You'll see those
soon.
 Is This How People Live?
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

By morning, Brooklyn had been able to walk by herself to the kitchen, though Damian still
trailed her closely.

It was surprising to wake up with him by her side, sleeping soundly and looking nothing like
his usual serious self. She'd let him sleep for a while, stealing the warmth off his body to
chase away the memories of last night's cold.

Spending a morning routine brushing hair and teeth with Damian by her side using the sink
beside her own had been...not as awkward as she'd expected. The Wayne had been nothing
but respectful since his arrival, and he'd not complained once about having to sleep by her
side.

But that was not her only morning surprise.

She was surprised to see her home was not as messy as she'd left it, her friend had confessed
to cleaning up a bit while he waited for her to wake. She'd chuckled at his angry little pout at
getting caught doing something nice, a chuckle that only increased when Damian set out to
make breakfast, following a quick texted recipe from Alfred the culinary master.

Sitting on the stool in the kitchen table, Brooklyn was playing with the collar of Damian's
turtleneck as she mused "Have you or your siblings ever had to cook for yourselves if Alfred
wasn't around?"

Damian, still in his black pajamas, was growling at the pan where a single pancake lay,
thankfully still unburnt unlike its prior brethren down in the trash.

"Don't be ridiculous, Pennyworth doesn't take days off" he replied, "But there was one time
he had to go for a mandatory doctor's appointment all day"

Damian was slouching on the chair beside his father, angry that food that morning had not
been ready as soon as he came downstairs as per usual. Pennyworth was gone for the day, and
his brothers had decided to make an afternoon meal after breakfast had been poor.

Even Casandra seemed to have lost her will to live as she laid on the seat beside Damian
silently.

"We're cooking today B! Our treat!" Dick had said to Bruce and Selina confidently.

The newlywed couple had frowned in worry, but it was Damian who had muttered, "Is that a
threat?"
That had earned him a few 'offended' frowns.

As the others set to find pots, pans, and ingredients, it was Todd that said with a spatula in
hand, "Is death by our cooking such a horrible thought? As someone who's died before, its
seems like a good way to go to me"

Before father could get a word in, Dick said, "True! Don't be so sour, after all, aren't we all
human beans?"

By the fridge, Stephanie chuckled and added, "and together we will rice!"

Damian was staring to feel a headache coming, especially when Barbara ran around with a
pile of vegetables to take to the sink while shouting, "Lettuce pray!"

Standing before a pan that was somehow already on fire, a bleak looking Drake turned
around to face everyone as he said with a serious and exhausted face, flames rising higher
behind him, "Ramen"

From then on, Damian knew this would be a complete disaster, especially after the kitchen
was overflowing with dishes and Todd handed over a warm cup of something to Bruce while
'the meal was finished'.

Father did not frown at the taste, in fact, he seemed surprised since they'd ran out of tea and
coffee this morning. He'd asked, "This tea tastes adequately. What is it?"

Todd has smirked, ignoring the flour in his hair and the crushed tomato splattered on his shirt
that was starting to look like blood. In all seriousness, the idiot replied, "I knew you'd
appreciate my efforts dear old dad. I call it ✨boiled gatéorade✨"

Father spit out his next sip in seconds.

Brooklyn made a mental note to not let a single Wayne (aside from Dami) ever hand her
food. With their hatred towards any and all Starks, they might even poison it on purpose.

"Did any of you die from food poisoning?" Brooklyn asked amusedly, watching as Damian
flipped the pancake with what he claimed to be a clean dagger.

"No, but Alfred banned us all from cooking in his kitchen from then on. The punishments for
those who ruined his prized knife set were...severe " Damian said dryly, but there was a hit of
a smile on his face.

As she finished texting a worried Jon and Ned, Brooklyn took a second to just relish in the
fact that she was alive and home, ready to have a normal breakfast, or as normal as it was
being MADE breakfast by a Wayne was.

Once Damian succeeded in making enough food for both of them, she'd asked him to tell his
side of how the events of yesterday had gone.

He'd told her everything, though his own emotions seemed to be singled out of the tale.
Brook was just shocked Yelena had not only tagged along, but fought in her name. Perhaps
she'd gone through more progress than Brooklyn had given the blonde credit for. Even she
had texted the Stark during breakfast, albeit less excitedly. She'd asked if Brook was able to
function, if there was permanent damage....the technical stuff.

Then, just as she was finishing up her orange juice mixed with cranberry juice (they'd had to
mix the juices to have enough to drink between the two of them), Yelena sent one last chilling
message using Natasha's phone.

From what I understand, bleeding a person to death was an ancient torture method by Red
Room standards. I wonder why they used it on you.

Like most of what happened yesterday, Brooklyn had no real answers.

If she was being honest, Brook was just happy to be in Queens at this point.

At least it seemed Damian would kept to his promise and stay the weekend, because after
they both washed the dishes, he asked, "Is there anything in particular you do when you're
stuck in Queens for the weekend?"

Seeing as she was banned from going on patrols, her list of activities was significantly
lessened already...

Brooklyn settled on the couch slowly, pulling Damian beside her so they could watch the city
beyond come to life in the morning.

Then a thought struck her.

"Maybe it's time you learn what's it's like to live a common life, one without Alfred doing
everything" Brooklyn said, smile brightening when Damian's eyes became panicked for half
a second.

"You heard what happened last time Alfred wasn't around" Damian argued, "Do you really
want to go down that road?"

"We can multitask. We can just relax these next few days after the hell we went though, but
also keep busy doing some research on the Red Room. What do you say?" she said, standing
from the couch and offering a hand to the green eyed boy.

Damian seemed intrigued by the prospect of an investigation, just as she'd wagered he would.

He'd agreed with a frown, especially when she mentioned they should go outside today. Not
just because Brooklyn still had a life to live despite almost being killed, but because it was
better to go out into unscheduled trips that could not be tracked ahead of time by assassins,
rather than stay like sitting ducks at her home waiting to get shot.

Once they were out the door in a warm ensemble of clothes and sunglasses to keep their
identities hidden, Brooklyn guided her reluctant friend around Queens, making their first stop
at the supermarket near her home so they wouldn't have to keep Frankenstein-ing meals.
That day, Brooklyn learned Damian had never been to one in his life, which only made
usually boring experience of going shopping all the more amusing.

The place had been full of people, and when she'd handed over the cart to Damian, he'd
almost swerved it into a display. Brook had to hide her smile behind her shell-pink scarf
when that little disaster had almost occurred.

They'd gone through the aisles, with Brooklyn helping Damian push the cart by his side.
Neither had removed their sunglasses indoors, not too eager for someone to recognize the
Stark and Wayne heirs together.

No one looked their way for too long any ways, they were just people amongst the
unsuspecting masses. No one was expecting the impossible.

As Brooklyn began dropping food into the cart, already used to what she needed (this time
doubling the food for two people), the girl noticed Damian would grumble about the
inconveniences of shopping, but he looked around curiously, sometimes even adding some
small snacks of his liking to the red cart.

Every now and then, some curious toddler would run by with sugary snacks clutched tight,
some announcement on the speakers would scare the shit out of Damian, or the two teens
would spend minutes debating the pros and cons between brands of certain products.

Damian was the kind of person who preferred quality, while Brooklyn valued price as a result
of her days spent in poverty.

It surprised Brook how easy they could find a middle ground with each rising 'argument'. It
made shopping go by smoothly, so much so that the Stark had completely forgotten the
events of last night and her near damnation. It didn't even feel like she was shopping with
Dami for the first time...it just felt...normal.

By the time Brook had finished paying and they'd retrieved their bags of goods, Damian had
taken all of them from her hands, placing them into one of his own.

"I lost a little blood, not an arm. I can help carry the bags" Brooklyn argued with a roll of her
eyes Damian could not see.

The Wayne had huffed back, "They weigh nothing, I can carry them"

Once they began their walk out the store, Brooklyn replied bitterly, "Show off" yet, Brooklyn
looped her arm around his free one by her side, and they both strolled peacefully down the
street back to her home under the cloudy skies of Queens, both their coats and scarves
billowing in the wind.

After a simple lunch that left Brooklyn's kitchen intact thanks to Alfred's recipe, the girl was
reminded of the Yule dance after some texts from MJ and Tanya showing their dress choices
for approvals and opinions.
"Dami," Brooklyn mused, watching as the friend sitting beside her looked up from his stack
of work Jon had dropped off earlier.

"Are you in pain? I told you washing the dishes might make you tired" he asked.

Brook smiled at his poor attempt to hide concern, it was getting easier with each passing day
to figure him out, especially Damian's constant efforts to make it seem like he didn't worry or
care. She still remembered the confession he made to her about his own punishments in the
League and how that developed some fear of being left alone.

Perhaps it was the events of yesterday, or just a reminder of that revelation, but Brooklyn had
planned to keep him around as much as possible this weekend, and that would mean another
little trip outside by the looks of it.

Damian had merely rolled his eyes at the suggestion, but he'd grabbed their coats and scarves
and they set out to the other side of the city where a giant mall was already bustling with
visitors.

Brooklyn hadn't meant to bring them to the mall they'd once gone to for refuge, but it was the
closest one available, and though she was feeling much better in terms of how she was
yesterday, the less she had to exert herself, the better.

Damian seemed to recognize the place, but said nothing as they went inside arm in arm, even
though Brooklyn insisted she wasn't feeling dizzy or weak. Who knew her grumpy friend
could be such a 'fussing mother'.

Though Brook had no clue what dress to buy for the Yule dance which was still weeks away,
she couldn't help but at least be excited such a purchase would be her choice. High name
brands had taken to dressing the Stark in their clothes since her 'Walmart dress' TV
appearance.

As long as those annoying designers had no clue a school dance was happening, Brooklyn
would be free to wear as she wished without being pestered about having 'the proper image
for a Stark'.

There was one store she had in mind for such a purchase, one she and Tanya had walked by
on occasion. It was a small store, full of feminine attire and spotted easily by its disgustingly
pink walls. MJ had once mentioned most teens favored the store for everyday purchases, so
Brook thought that might be the best place to start.

On their way to said boutique, Brook went wide eyed when she recognized a seemingly
unimportant wall to those who walked by. But her and Damian remembered, that was the
place they'd both had their first kiss.

Though there was traffic flowing by, the girl couldn't help but pause before it, ignoring the
crowds walking around them like water around rocks.

Damian held no anger or regrets towards the kiss, and neither did Brook, but it was odd being
back in that place no longer as enemies eager to get away from one another, but now as
friends...dare she say the best of friends....arm in arm on a shopping trip.

He was staring at the spot too...

"You sure you don't regret it, me being your first kiss and all?" she dared to ask, only for
Damian's arm to tighten slightly around her own, moving them back into the flow of the
crowd as he looked away from her, inspecting the stores.

"Of course not beloved" he replied and because she knew he would soon turn the same
question on her, Brooklyn beat him by saying, "Neither do I"

****

Brooklyn was inside the dressing room, tying not to frown at the small bandage on her arm
that seemed to clash with her outfit.

Her skin was not as pale as it had been this morning, but it still wasn't its usual lively color.
She hadn't blowdried her hair last night, so it had formed into curly waves fell across her
back...

Point in case, she'd looked better, but for someone who almost died, she was 'absolutely
radiant'.

This was the firth dress she'd tried on, but unlike the previous picks that were styled like
Tanya's and MJ picks, this one was a little different.

Yule was meant to be a winter celebration, but the pale blues, whites, and gentle violets that
most girls at school had mentally agreed to wear had seemed...unlike her.

Brook hadn't expected Damian to bother helping her with this little insignificant issue, but
he'd sat in the waiting area, giving his honest opinion on each dress, which seemed to
coincide with Brooklyn's thoughts every time.

This particular dress broke all mentally established rules the girls at school had dictated, but
for the first time since she'd stepped foot into the pastel colored changing room, Brooklyn felt
more like herself at last.

Stepping out into the waiting area that was thankfully unoccupied by others, Brooklyn
decided to be a little silly for once and made a twirl as she stood before the Wayne.

"What about this one?" she asked, looking at herself in the mirrors behind Damian,
inspecting the red dress that reached her ankles unlike the others. It was rather simple, not
bejeweled like the others prior. This was just a comfortable red dress with a keyhole neckline
and covered her back perfectly to hide her scars.

Damian, who was perched on the blue couch with perfect posture, looked at the dress with a
less scrutinizing eye than the others.

He did not criticize this time, but merely asked, "You seem very comfortable in this dress, I
presume you like it?"
"Yeah, I guess I do" she replied honestly.

That seemed to be enough for Damian to nod his own approval, "If it makes you happy, you
should buy it. Besides, you always did look pulchritudinous in red"

Why couldn't he just say she looked good? Was that so hard?

Still, Brooklyn smirked at the compliment, and though she tried a few more dresses, she
couldn't argue that the red was her favorite. She could only hope the other girls would kill her
for the rule breach.

Once she was back her own clothes, red dress in hand, Damian waited by the store front as he
busied himself on his phone as Brooklyn went to pay, and once again like with the groceries,
she'd refused to let him do so.

The cashier was a girl likely not much older than Brook, with dark hair full of beautiful small
curls, caramel skin that made her hazel eyes almost glow. She was kind, striking up
conversation with Brook as she folded the dress and packed it meticulously with elegant
wrapping.

After praising the choice in the dress, the girl said with a smile, "You are very lucky to have
such a good boyfriend. Most guys see stores like this and make excuses to leave or wait
outside" then proceeded to point at the food tables outside full of impatient looking men no
doubt waiting for the women browsing the racks.

Brooklyn's eyes went wide behind her sunglasses at the word 'boyfriend'.

"We're not a couple" Brook replied quickly, "He's just a friend helping me out"

The cashier smirked, sneaking a glance at Damian's form waiting by the door.

"He's all covered up, but he looks very handsome" she said with a wink, "The fact that he
stayed and helped you pick out a dress for an hour and half is just the icing on the cake.
THAT is a quality guy"

Brooklyn felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. It had been very kind of Damian to stay,
even when she assured him she'd be safe in a busy store and that he could go browse
something of interest elsewhere. The Wayne had simply settled down on the plush couch
instead.

She'd always expected him to be a guy who possessed little patience, especially for mundane
things like dress shopping. But he'd stayed, taking his job as a second opinion quite seriously.

Unsure how to answer the nosy cashier, Brooklyn merely dug out some cash, thankful
SHIELD payed so well, then made her way back to Damian with pink bag in hand. It was
then that she noticed he had a much smaller bag in hand from the same store.

"I had no idea you had a taste for feminine attire" Brooklyn said, almost grinning from ear to
ear when she asked him to show her what he'd bought, no doubt when she was busy changing
back into her own clothes.
Damian huffed in annoyance, but handed over the small bag in a quick motion.

"Its obviously not for me...I saw them on display and thought...it just seemed like something
you could wear with the dress" Damian said, seemingly unable to find his words, which was
odd considering he either said what he wanted to confidently, or said nothing at all.

Just as she began opening the small bag, Dami mentioned something about getting some food
for them and that she should find a table. Like that, he was gone in an instant, possibly
glaring at everyone that passed by him because the crowds of families and couples parted for
him in fear, his black coat disappearing into the sea of people.

He was wearing sunglasses! How could people be so afraid?

Glad to see some things never changed.

Once seated at a questionably clean table, Brooklyn finally indulged her curiosity and opened
the bag expecting...well nothing at all. Damian buying her a gift was an odd thought that just
didn't seem to register in her brain.

Inside, hidden behind small mounds of wrapping paper were two golden combs with tiny
ruby's that were the same shade as her dress.

The store wasn't elegant enough to hold things that were actually made of gold and rubies of
course, this was likely just plastic gems and metal coated in cheap gold foil...but Damian had
been right, these actually would go great with the dress.

She didn't give a damn how little or how much they had cost, the fact that he'd bought her
something was..it made her grin like an idiot alone in that table, likely scaring those seated
nearby.

Once back home with bellies full of mall food, Brooklyn had set her dress neatly into her
closet, leaving the hair combs on her vanity, setting them down with a smile.

Damian was already in the living room with homework spread around him when she'd
returned. Though next week would hold no classes due to Thanksgiving, the two had decided
to get ahead on work. They were still academic rivals in a sense, but seeing as they both got
full marks on every test, homework, and project...there really wasn't much competition to
begin with, they just had to keep on their toes.

After they both finished their assignments and even took some time to go to her office to do
some research on the Red Room, they found little to no sightings of a surviving base of
operations. Even in SHIELD records, Ivan has nothing more than a ghost.

They both agreed that if Ivan was going to start getting bolder in his attacks, that they could
at least figure out where he was, maybe take the fight to some of his own forces, but now she
realized why Natasha had deemed Ivan a ghost for years as well.

There was no way to track him, even when they investigated the crime belly using SHIELD
resources. At least they'd come to the conclusion that Ivan couldn't possibly be in the country,
and Damian was certain the League would not help Ivan with refuge.

The research left them with headaches, perhaps even a little frustrated that they'd managed to
come up with so little after four hours. The sky was already dark when they decided to go
clear their heads with a walk around the nearby park.

There weren't many others around, just a couple people out and about walking their pets.

Brooklyn had chosen to go to the park not only to get away from her frustration, but because
she knew people loved to walk their pets this late into the day, and she knew it would help
Damian relax seeing all the stupid beasts roaming around.

While answering texts from her friends and even some from mom and Harley (thanks to
everyone telling him what happened she'd had to reassure him all day that she was fine and
unharmed), Brooklyn was almost startled when Damian spoke up.

Still bundled in his black coat and green scarf, Damian looked out into the hills of the park,
the lights from the posts above them making his eyes stand out against the darkness.

Damian and Brooklyn had foregone their sunglasses, hoping the darkness would help conceal
who they were after all.

"Is this how normal people live?" he pondered, "Those with no responsibilities or greater
purposes?"

Brooklyn rolled her eyes, putting her phone away so she could catch up to walk by his side.

"I guess so" she mused, "It's not often I get to just have a relaxed day like this, but it seems to
be the general way life goes. Did you hate it?"

Damian looked around the park, then further out where the large skyscrapers and towering
buildings of the city lay.

"It wasn't the worst" he replied, which made her smirk.

Then they heard it, movement behind them. Not from the walkway...

That quickly, Brooklyn got her Stark watch into place around her hand, ready to shoot as
Damian took out the hilts of his katanas, letting the blades expand before them.

But there was no one there.

Only falling leaves from the threes around them, followed by an angry bark, then a figure
appeared, making his way to the ground slowly.

Jon was flying down towards them with a terrified expression, holding a feral Titus with a
few scarves and belts tied together like a harness. She recognized Damian's beast instantly,
and it was no wonder it was trying to kill Jon, a fact which only increased once the dog
caught sight of his master.
Once they both touched down, Titus ran away from Jon, but not towards Damian....the beast
was heading her way. Before Brooklyn could think to run, she was tackled by the large Great
Dane. She collided with the grass with a grunt as the dog above her began wagging its tail,
looking like it might lick her face any second.

Somewhere behind her, Jon was already screaming.

"I'm sorry! I tried to look after Titus like you asked Damian, but he kept trying to kill me, and
then when you didn't come back he got angrier! I went to go look for you guys at the
apartment but then Peter said Brook had texted him about you being in the park so I flew us
both here!"

Brooklyn heard Damian sigh, but he called Titus by his side and in an instant, and the dog
obeyed.

With Jon's help, Brook got back on her feet, dusting off the grass from her green coat with a
murmured, "Damn beast"

"I'm glad you're doing much better"Jon said as way of greeting, pulling Brooklyn into a
delicate hug, "I was worried you and Damian would get into a fight or that he'd refuse to help
you, but you're looking better!"

Brooklyn didn't want to know what she had looked like before that this was already a huge
improvement.

And though she'd already thanked Jon and the others for risking their lives on her behalf by
text, she still forced her self to actually voice out the words with some difficulty.

"Thanks to you and the others I'm doing much better. Plus, Damian has been a great help so
far" she said, almost feeling the glare emanating from the Wayne behind her.

Jon pushed the black hair away from his face, blue eyes sparkling as he looked between her
and Damian behind them.

"Well, Damian was the most worried out of all of us when you went missing, no wonder he's
being so civil for once" Jon said, smirking as he added, "I actually had to restrain him at
some point because he was so worried for you!"

THAT Brook hadn't been told by Damian when he'd shared his side of the story.

With a smirk of her own, Brooklyn turned back to face the fuming Wayne, who send Jon a
glare the meant nothing but death. Seeming to sense his immediate demise, Jon quickly
looked around to make sure the coast was clear, then levitated off the ground.

"Um! Well, I hope you don't mind taking care of Titus tomorrow! I dropped off some food
and toys at the apartment! See you guys in a week! We definitely need to have a
Thanksgiving meal at lunch next Monday! Glad to see you're doing ok Brook! Bye!" Jon said
nervously, then shot out into the sky.
Though Brooklyn still deeply despised dogs, she didn't have the heart to tell Damian to make
the beast sleep outside. She couldn't even argue against Damian's logic that the large dog
would serve as extra security...

Against her better judgement, she let Titus stay.

So they'd walked back home with Titus by Damian's side. The dog had wandered around the
apartment curiously for a while once they'd arrived, and he seemed to favor laying down on
the plush carpet in the living room.

After everyone ate some dinner, Damian and Brooklyn watched the news in case of an
emergency, the dog laying by their feet, relaxed but clearly alerted by any noise coming from
outside. Even the chirping of a bird had made the dog stand before Damian AND Brook
protectively a few times.

She had no clue why Damian's dog cared so much, but she had to admit that some of her
distaste for the beast vanished when she noticed how worried it was for her safety, how well
behaved it was.

If someone had told Brooklyn a few months ago that she'd be watching TV with a Wayne and
a dog, she might've laughed herself hoarse...yet here she was.

When it was time for bed, Brook had insisted it was ok if Damian stayed in the spare room.
She felt calm and collected, no longer afraid someone would come and kill her though the
window as she had that first night.

If anything, the spare room was already Damian's to begin with, with all his clothes being
there and all. All the things Jon had dropped off for the Wayne were there too, almost looking
like a used room now.

So they'd both gone to beds in the adjacent rooms, but they still had a quick talk on their
walkie-talkies despite being in one another's company all day. It had just been to say
goodnight, keep to tradition, Titus even barked his usual farewell before Brook settled
comfortably under the covers.

Though she'd awoken a few times during the night because the beast decided to alternate
between the two beds all night, settling by Brooklyn's feet when he stayed in her room, she'd
had a relatively peaceful night.

That was until one of her dreams has shifted into something unpleasant.

She'd woken up wide eyed and unable to help the scream from leaving her lips. It had felt so
real, being back in that place, feeling as if her body was tied down to the examination table...

Damian and Titus burst into the dark room in seconds, scanning the place until Brooklyn said
hoarsely, "Just a silly dream"

She'd expected her friend to go back to his room, but he settled on the side of the bed, Titus
once gain by her feet but looking more alert than before.
"Its perfectly understandable to dream of what happened, It must've been...unpleasant for
you" he whispered.

Brook wasn't sure how to answer that. She'd been plagued by bad dreams most of her life,
this was nothing new, but it was possibly the recency of the events that made it feel all the
more real, that caused the Stark to still feel the panic of the promise of being in Ivan's
clutches.

When she didn't reply, Damian merely asked sleepily, "Would you like me to stay here
tonight, beloved?"

Beloved. His nickname for her, a soothing reminder that she truly wasn't alone to deal with
this.

When she nodded, placing her hidden dagger back under the pillow. Damian settled down on
the bed, bringing her shaking hands into his own, placing them between them.

It seemed the three of them wouldn't go to sleep anytime soon, none of them were sleeping,
just staring at the glowing stars above on her ceiling.

"That day we came for you, you told me your real name" he whispered.

Brook remembered, she'd been wondering if he'd ever bring it up.

"I know" she replied, "I told you I'd say it when I trusted you completely without a doubt.
When you became by best friend"

There truly was no one else in the world she could talk so freely to other than him, someone
who understood her as he did. Brook wouldn't be able to cook with anyone else so casually,
to sleep in the same bed with anyone else with her trust levels still being so low.

When he'd come for her, cradled her weakened body in his arms, the way he'd spoken to her,
Brooklyn realized Damian was not like her other friends, he was more...he truly was her best
friend.

"I suppose you could be considered my most treasured friend as well" Damian replied, then
after a long sigh he added, "I owe you my real name in that case"

Brooklyn chuckled, "You don't have to tell me if you aren't ready"

She was pretty sure the League did not just hand out numbers as names, but she understood
that it was something deeply personal anyways.

When he turned to face her, his eyes were weary as he said, "...I want to tell you, but mine is
not so easy to say, beloved. I hope you don't judge me too much for it"

Judge? What did a birth given name have to do with judgement?

"What are you talking about?" she whispered, leaning on her elbow so she could see his face
better.
Damian shifted uncomfortably, and when he made to look away, Brooklyn unwound one of
her hands from his own so she could clutch his cheek gently, keeping his eyes on her own.

"Its ok" she said, "Just tell me"

Dami's frown eased, but he still seemed hesitant as he whispered, "My name, the name I used
since birth was not just Damian Wayne...I'm also Damian al Ghul"

The...

Brooklyn felt her eyes grow wide as she heard his name flowing around her head over and
over.

That meant Damian was THE famed grandson of the legendary Ra's al Ghul, the previous
leader of the League of Villains. That meant that when she'd called him demon in the
past...she hadn't been far off then.

Ra's al Ghul was rumored to have lived for centuries, to be the demon of the assassin world.

Damian was the heir...the heir not only of Wayne Enterprises but the League as well.

That's why Yelena had recognized him! That's why Damian's cousin had tried to kill him
years ago, because there was no greater show of strength and worth to lead the Demon's Fist,
than to killing their heir. That meant Damian had not just been consider to be a part of that
elite assassin group, but he'd been set to lead it...

Brooklyn couldn't help but laugh then, moving to place her head on his warm chest and settle
down with a smile. She didn't even mind Titus' presence in that moment, as the irony of it all
settled in her mind.

"What's so funny?" Damian asked with what could've been panic laced in his voice, "Aren't
you angry I never told you? Aren't you scared of who I am or disgusted with all I've done
under that name?"

Oh, he completely misunderstood her...

Perhaps that was her fault for not sharing some of her own past, still she couldn't help but
laugh against the fabric of his red shit.

"I just think it's funny that in every aspect of our lives, including our assassin youth, we were
meant to be enemies. Yet here we are" she whispered.

"What are you talking about?"

Brook placed their joint hands on his chest beside her face, intertwining they fingers as she
admitted into the dark room, "You were born the heir to the League or Assassins, and I was
born the chosen heir of the Red Room"

A beat of silence passed by them.

 Though both assassin organizations were not what they used to be, Damian was still the heir
of his League, and Ivan clearly still wanted Brooklyn to lead in his death. Though they both
clearly had no plans to pursue an assassin life, it was still amusing that they had that in
common.

When it finally seemed to click in his head, that they would've been enemies in that life too
had the both stayed assassins, he chuckled, pulling her closer with arms wound around her
back, soothing her deep scars.

"I seems we have defied all logical odds with this friendship of ours, my beloved" Damian
whispered

"That we have, Dami. But here when it's just us, there is no Wayne or Stark, or a Red Room
heiress with no name and an al Ghul...its just Brooklyn and Damian. Ok?" she replied
sleepily.

"Just Damian and Brooklyn" Damian agreed with a sigh of relief, and she was finally settling
into sleep, this time with no memories of the past.

Chapter End Notes

Hello everyone! Hope you're enjoying the story. Guess the secret of their past identities
is finally out! Brooklyn might even be warming up to Titus despite her hate of dogs too!
 Lunch and Dinner
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Damian POV-

"Yelena just told me she was blindfolded when Ivan dropped her off in Manhattan. She
estimates her journey took about three days, including a plane ride of a few hours" Brooklyn
said, frowning at the clear board they'd set up in the spare room, "Ivan doesn't take chances,
he might've made the trip intentionally longer, either way, Yelena isn't even sure if they're
still in Moscow to begin with"

Damian was leaning against the bed's headrest, dozens of papers atop the bedsheet and
around a sleeping Titus.

Though Brooklyn almost hated herself for admitting it, the damn beast was growing on her
already.

In the morning when she and Damian had woken up, Titus had snuggled beside them,
looking pleased to see them. After breakfast, he'd somehow known she'd need the remote,
and he'd gone and fetched it, not an ounce of drool on its slick surface. Damian had
evenencouraged Brooklyn to take hold of Titus' leash during the beast's morning walk, and
the large dog had kept to her side dutifully.

It had not been so bad to play catch with him, in fact, Brook and Damian had a competition
on who could throw the ball the furthest with the most successful catch, but the dog did not
show favoritism, even with Damian's incentive of treats.

Right now, the black eyed pet was keeping an eye on the window of the room, occasionally
looking out into the hall as if guarding them.

...stupid dog....

"Do you think Ivan will send someone else soon?" Damian asked, features changing into
something angry.

"No" Brook answered honestly, "From what you've all told me, no one had time to explain
what was happening. Ivan wouldn't have left easy ways to contact him around the place, so
they would've had to leave. If he saw on the news that the pipes collapsed or even found the
dead body records in SHIELD files somehow, he'd be weary"

Brooklyn stared up at the information of their only clue up on the board, the helicopter that
had taken Brook away from her home. Unfortunately, records showed it had been stolen, then
it had cashed on the opposite side of the East River where Brook had been held.

No fingerprints, no things left to recover that might've been left behind.

Too bad corpses couldn't talk, because that's the only other thing they had.

The whiteboard they had mostly possessed information form both Brook's and Yelena's
youth. Little things they could remember, like old allegiances and hidden bases Ivan owned
that had been mentioned in passing at some point.

It even had a little bullet point of something observed during the rescue a few days ago.
Damian had seen one of Brook's old instructors carry an alien gun, and she remembered
being stunned in place when she'd been captured, even if it was only for a few seconds due to
an odd looking gun. Perhaps this was all connected to the weapons and Joker fiasco in some
way, or so was the theory.

Damian had confessed to being the heir of the League last night, but he'd admitted that since
he decided to stay in Gotham (more like his dad decided for him), he'd been out of contact
with his mother who was no doubt leading the League now.

Talia al Ghul was just as famous as her father in the assassin world, she was said to be just as
skilled but all the more cunning. She was known to many young Black Widows in training as
the Leviathan, the Daughter of the Demon's Head.

Just like Natasha Romanoff had been a sort of saint, an example os strength and perfection to
follow in a fairytale sort of way, so had Damian's mom.

The only connection her friend had to the League of Assassins in recent years had been the
little birthday surprise form his cousin and the other teen assassins who had tried to kill him.
But he was certain his mother would not offer any help to Ivan, in fact, due to the weakening
of the League thanks to the death of her father, Talia might've seen the fall of the Red Room
as a way to climb up in power by leaving the Red Room to rot on their own.

Ivan would've done the same no doubt.

The League or Assassins and the Red Room were only allies when they needed things from
one another or they had a common enemy, otherwise, they hated one another as much as
Waynes and Starks were supposed to.

Too bad the only way to get some really good information would be to have Ned hack into
the Russian government, but that was far too risky and could result in a war between
countries. None of the teens had been willing to risk that.

Just as Brook was getting ready to call quits for the day maybe suggest a warm cup of coffee
while she and Damian watched the rain pour outside, GIL announced someone unscheduled
to come was at the door. That someone being Peter Parker.

Seconds later, the brown haired boy shouted Brooklyn's name across the apartment,
frantically searching for her until he came up to the spare room, eyes wide in surprise as he
looked to Damian first (who was now standing straight with his typical frown back on), then
to a growling Titus (who was ready to pounce to attack), then to all the research they'd pinned
into the room.
"The office space got crowded with Joker and weapon stuff" Brooklyn said by way of
greeting, setting down her marker as Peter rushed to hug her.

"I was afraid you weren't home! You can't scare me like that again!" Peter begged, hugging
her tight until Titus' barks became so loud, Peter had to back away to the door to avoid a
nasty bite from the dog.

Though she was startled by the action, Brook did not feel the danger that she often felt from
other dogs. Somehow, Brooklyn was certain Titus would not attack her, why would he
anyways? Titus could've killed her so many times already, and the aggression was targeted at
Pete.

Maybe she just trusted Damian not to let her be killed by his dog.

Peter was looking at the dog with the equal amount of fear he always held for Damian. It
wasn't helping that the green eyed boy was still glaring at him either.

Before anyone could get killed, Brooklyn made to stand before Peter and asked, "I thought
we weren't meeting until tomorrow on our way to the compound? Is everything ok?"

Gaze turned away from the others, Peter merely smiled at her and replied calmly, "Nothing's
wrong! Aunt May was just wondering if you wanted to stop by for lunch, I told her you have
a... guest... over, so Damian is invited as well!"

Damian looked like he'd rather go bond with his hated brother Jason Todd than do anything
Peter wanted. He huffed and sat back down on the bed, pulling Titus beside him so they
could glare at Peter together.

In all honesty, Brooklyn had been dying to see Aunt May recently, not just because she'd
almost been killed and missed her kindness and jokes, but because she'd almost been killed
and missed her kindness and jokes.

But even with all that, she wouldn't leave Damian to eat alone after he'd gone through the
trouble of staying with her and today was their last day to truly spend together.

Brooklyn wasn't entirely sure what Aunt May and Damian Wayne meeting would look like,
she'd never though such a thing to be possible...

"I'll see if I can convince Damian to come" Brooklyn replied, "I'll text you later regardless"

Peter nodded, "In case you can't make it, I'll bring some food over!"

Though it was risky, Peter still came back in the room quickly, pulled Brook into another
quick hug and practically ran out of the room when Titus began chasing after him.

"Why does your dog hate Peter so much? The cat at Delmar's loves him, pets tend to like him
during patrols too, even Jon's dog liked him" Brooklyn asked, only for Damian to smirk at
the door Peter had disappeared off running at.
When the dog came back, he rubbed the tip of his nose on Brooklyn's white skirt, then turned
to his master looking victorious.

"Good job, Titus" was all Damian said, rubbing the dog's ears to show his approval.

Brooklyn couldn't quite believe the ridiculousness she was beholding.

"So you train your dog to bother me but tell it to attack Peter? Really?" she said exasperated,

Damian smirked again, "I did not such thing. Titus does as he wishes unless I intervene"

Sure he did..

When did she start thinking of the dog as a he instead of an it!?

As said dog laid his head on her lap, Brooklyn couldn't even push it away in disgust. Great.

It was an hour later when she'd finally convinced Damian to meet Aunt May, using their visit
to the museum and restaurant with Pepper as an argument that it would not be so bad. Both
mom and Aunt May had a kind of motherly gentleness to them, something that made one feel
comfortable and cared for.

Brook knew Damian was not very warm or trusting to strangers, but she was willing to wager
that he wouldn't complain about Aunt May in the days to come after one lunch meeting.

Standing before Peter's door, Brooklyn rang the familiar bell. Though she knew meals at the
Parker household were anything but formal, Damian had insisted on dressing 'properly' which
to him was his usual dress pants, a black turtleneck, and polished shoes to match.

She'd been sad to see his casual t-shirt and flannel go, but if it made him more comfortable,
then all the better. Brooklyn had just kept to her simple skirt and black t-shit, knowing full
well that she could show up in her pjs and Aunt May wouldn't say a thing about it.

When the door opened, it was Peter who answered, almost looking relieved that Titus had
stayed behind two doors down. He'd been left with a handsome amount of snacks, lazily
slumped on Brook's couch as he watched Gentleman Jack, which Damian had mentioned the
dog loved.

Was that a little weird? Yes. But she knew better than to question the Wayne family dynamics
when her own where a little odd as well. Brook had a 'brother' who was an A.I and a
grandfather who did not look his age at all.

Let the beast watch what he wanted...

Peter nervously led them in, and when Brook caught sight of May busy in the kitchen, she
quickly rushed over to hug her.

"A Brooklyn! How have you been sweetie? You look a little pale, have you been eating
alight?" May said, setting down her oven gloves and brining Brooklyn into a brief hug.
The Stark almost sighed in relief when she noted Peter had kept the recent events of her
kidnapping a secret. She'd find out eventually of course, it was hard for Pete to keep secrets
from the woman, but at least for now the meal would go by smoothly.

Moving away from the embrace, she let Aunt May see her other guest.

"Aunt May, this is Damian" Brooklyn said, motioning to where her friend was standing
straight, posture perfect, expression calm and sneer at a minimum.

What Brook had not been expecting was for May to beam at the sight, she'd expected her to
be weary of Damian at first, to wonder why Peter had invited a boy so different from his
other friends...instead she smiled and asked Peter to show Damian to the dining table.

Once they'd disappeared, Brooklyn was about to explain what an awful idea it was to leave
those two alone when she whispered excitedly, "THAT'S the guest Peter told me you were
having over!? Sweetie, he's gorgeous! Like he was carved out by the gods, and he was
dressed so elegantly like a prince of the night!"

Brooklyn had to backtrack a few times.

"What?"

May smirked, "You didn't tell me you had a BOY over at your house! How long has that been
going on?"

What was 'that' supposed to mean?

"You mean, how long has he been at my house?" Brooklyn asked wearily, helping May
arrange the dishes absentmindedly.

The woman laughed, pushing her glasses back in place before explaining, "No! I mean how
long have you two been dating?"

Dating! NO! They weren't! She wasn't!

"May" Brooklyn whispered as she looked around nervously, "Damian is just...helping me

with a school project. He and I are enemies actually! He's a Wayne! If my dad knew we were
here together much less at my home he'd kill me! This is just a temporary necessity!"

That bit of information seemed useless to the woman for the rest of the meal. She'd been very
polite with Damian, excited to find out he went to Midtown with Peter and Brook.

Damian had given back short answers to each question, but was seemingly grateful the meal
served was apt for his vegetarian preference. Brook had texted Peter earlier about that, not
that he had to know of course.

Surprisingly, Damian did not seem bored, or like he was forcing himself to answer. Still she
kept a hold of one of his hands under the table for emotional support. He seemed to
appreciate that.
On the other side of the table, May and Peter were seated beside each other, which was
probably for the best so Damian didn't end up killing the doe eyed boy.

Peter seemed happy as always, unharmed and kind. She was glad the events of recently had
only made him worry for her and no other harm had come from them. He'd been texting her
more often, passingly by her window the past two mornings on his way to patrols too.

She knew he felt some sort of guilt for the ordeal, living so close to her and all. It had taken
Brooklyn quite a while to remind Pete there was no way he could've known what was
coming. It helped that it was easy to distract him with mentions of the Yule dance, which is
where the conversation at the table had currently gravitated towards.

"Peter told me you helped him write the letter for MJ" May said, then after a sip of her water
she added, "That was very kind of you Brook, he's been very happy because of it"

Brook felt Damian's stare turn to her, as if he was shocked she'd do such at think considering
he was the only person at the table that knew Brooklyn supposedly had a crush on Peter. Yet
she'd done it...

"I barely did any work, I'm not very good at writing letters. The Red Room was not big on
poetry, but I've known MJ long enough to know things she liked so we worked with that"
Brooklyn admitted, busing herself by munching on a leaflet of broccoli.

May turned her kind eyes towards Damian then, asking if he had a date already.

"Yes" Damian answered swiftly, "An arrangement for a partner has been made"

"And you Brooklyn?"May asked, turning her gaze from the teen to Damian as if trying to
send her a message of sorts. One Brooklyn couldn't decipher.

"Peter didn't tell you? I'm going alone"

Aunt May chocked on her water. Peter was there in an instant helping the woman get her
breathing back on track, but May seemed to have little concern for her own life as she said
incredulously, "How do you not have a date!?"

Brook thought back to all the letters she and Damian had burned, the proposals made to her
out of greed and desire for popularity.

"Its not so bad, I already picked out my dress and everything. I told my mom a few days ago
and she said it was ok, that she'd send me some of her shoes to wear" she replied simply.

Aunt May looked aghast, then turned to Peter.

"You should've asked her!" she said to poor Peter, swatting her hand gently on his arm, "You
said this would be her first dance, Peter Benjamin Parker!"

Damian looked like he was about to smile, only to take a sip of his own water to hide the
amused malice behind it.
Seriously, one of these days Brook would have to find a way to make sure Damian and Peter
became friends, or at least comfortable acquaintances. They were all a team after all!

As Peter apologized profoundly, May promised to make up for the lack of a date by helping
Brooklyn do her make-up that day, which actually didn't sound so bad since the teen had just
planned to do the same minimalistic natural look as always.

After the delicious meal was over, the subject of Peter's youth had been brought up somehow,
which caused May to show Damian and Brook some old albums displaying Peter from his
baby years up until now.

Maybe thats what caused Damian to admit lunch wasn't a complete annoyance and waste of
his time. Now he had blackmail against Peter for years.

It had been rather funny seeing a little boy with the same doe yes doing silly things like
making mud pies, winning little science fairs, and trying to eat his own foot. Peter had gone
red faced at each photo, begging Aunt May to have mercy....but she showed none.

Now Damian was lounging on the couch of Brook's apartment, smirking at Peter's
embarrassment the way Titus was at the death of one of the characters in his show.

Those two really were something...

"I can't believe Aunt May absolutely adores you! She was serious when she made me swear
to bring you over more often you know" Brooklyn said, head resting on his arm while Titus
barked at the TV, as if encouraging more bloodshed.

Damian sighed.

"I suppose I can stand that kind of social interactions with Parker once every few months. I
reaped some useful information from it " he replied annoyedly.

The fact that he was willing to go back into that apartment was a miracle in itself. Then
again, she knew for a fact he'd enjoyed not being a Wayne for a while, and May had treated
him just like Brook and Peter.

Some part of her was glad he hadn't been miserable, that they had spent the early afternoon in
good spirits.

When Titus settled back atop both their laps, Brooklyn realized Damian truly had made an
effort with Aunt May who was like family to her, so maybe she should push old disputes
aside and give his canine friend the same generosity.

Against her better instinct, Brooklyn reached out and scratched Titus' ears the way she'd seen
Damian do. Her best friend stared at the action wide eyed, to which Brook just shrugged,
leaning back against his arm, spending the next hour or two getting really into the dog's show.

It wasn't the worst evening of her life....

*******
Damian POV-

His beloved was busy in her room, calming down her younger brother and assuring him she
was unharmed, which was a lie, but he'd come to realize Brooklyn often chose to belittle her
injuries to make other worry less.

These past two days when she'd texted and called family or the team, she'd tended to put on a
brave face for them. She always put a brave face for everyone, except for him last night when
a nightmare had been too much.

Damian tried not to scold himself for staying with her two nights in a row, for the way he'd
been acting, wondering if Brooklyn had been questioning it his closeness or thinking he was
being annoying and overbearing.

But he had multiple reasons to act out of logic's realm recently, to do things that were
normally not customary of him to do.

Brooklyn had healed with no permanent damage from her kidnapping, once she'd awoken at
home she'd only been weak and had a few small cuts on her feet, but thats not what haunted
Damian recently.

He'd made everyone swear to keep the severity of what happened that day a secret from
Brooklyn. Burdened knowing you were hurt was one thing, knowing you were dead was
another.

His beloved's heart had stopped for 13 seconds that night. It took the SHIELD agent that long
to get her heart starting again as Parker swerved through traffic and Jon cleaned the blood off
Belova's hands, the dried up remainders that the collapsing of the pipes had not even been
able to wash off.

But Damian had not been busy like them when that portable heart monitor had gone silent in
the back of that van. They did not have a front row seat when Brooklyn stoped breathing.

It had been...unsettling.

The loss of his senses and rapid beating of his heart made no logical sense, Damian had seen
death thousands of times, had seen some of his own siblings die and then come back to life
more times than what could be considered normal. He'd had some sense of worry back then,
but in that van, when he crouched beside Brooklyn's still body on that shaking vehicle, it was
as if she was all he could focus on.

He'd recalled her promise to save him a dance at the Yule dance, the reveal of her name as if
she'd known her death had been around the corner.

Damian had wanted to yell at Brooklyn to wake up, to yell at her for thinking of dying on
him.

He barely recalled passing over the paddles by the agent's frantic instructions, hearing the
crackles of electricity, but that had only been background noise compared to the rapid beating
of his heart that Damian wished he could've shared with his beloved in that moment.

He'd only been able to cradle her cold hand in his then, watching until the life came back to
her body so he could breath properly again.

Since that moment, he'd been foolish. Taking up any and all excuses to remain by her side,
making sure that heart continued to beat. He knew Brooklyn had no idea how reassuring it
was to sleep by her side, to be able to hear her breathing properly.

Now he knew why the Red Room had been targeting Brook, why they wanted to capture her
instead of killing her. She was an heiress to a large kingdom just as he was. Both he and
Brooklyn went through so much grooming, and likely many resources and money were spent
getting them to be the best of the best for years.

That was not something one let go of with ease.

Ivan would want his prized pupil back, and Damian dreaded what the man famous for his
torture methods would do to get Brook to agree to such a future once more. That was
unsettling, but it was nothing compared to the sound of that heart machine going silent for 13
long seconds, it was enough of a worry that Damian was just as eager as his beloved to put a
stop to the Red Room...he wanted to make them pay for stopping her heart.

Because she was currently busy, Damian moved out of the couch and headed over to the
ringing door, wondering if Parker had come by to drop off dinner even though Brooklyn had
told him it was not necessary.

When he opened the door, Parker's annoying face was not before him, but a woman in her
forties, clutching a slightly familiar child in her arms. The child Brooklyn had been with at
the Queens' Fair along with Parker.

The woman went wide eyed at the sight of Damian.

"I'm sorry to bother you, is this Brooklyn Stark's home?" she asked, pushing back straps of
her blonde hair nervously as the child in her arms waved Damian's way.

Unsure of how to deal with this, Damian shouted back for Brooklyn, only feeling slightly
sorry for ruining her phone call. Interactions with strangers were never his strong suit, and
he'd probably be a stupid friend for making her guests angry.

Thankfully, Brooklyn showed up at the door quickly, probably expecting danger only to come
face to face with the woman and child.

"Oh!Maggie!" Brooklyn said surprised, standing beside Damian at the door and shooting a
small gave at the excited child, "I wasn't expecting you, is there anything you need?"

The woman, Maggie, smiled nervously, sneaking a few quick glances at Damian as she
replied, "I'm sorry, I had no idea you'd be busy"

Brooklyn chuckled, "I'm not. This is a classmate, we just...finished a school project. What
can I help you with?"
The woman relaxed then, then looked down the hall briefly.

"I'm sorry to bother you Brooklyn, but I have to go with Jim for a last minute police event,
now that he applied for the Queens' police department it's important he shows up. I was
hoping Peter would be able to babysit but once I got here and texted him he mentioned being
stuck at a hair salon with his aunt" The woman said, then added nervously, "Would you mind
taking care of Cassie for a few hours? I'll be back before 9 for sure!"

Thats when Damian noticed the woman was indeed wearing cocktail dress, hair and make-up
ready for some event.

The Wayne saw Brooklyn's chocolate brown eyes light up at Cassie's smile, pushing back her
red locks to take the little girl into her arms excitedly.

"Its not a problem at all!" Brooklyn replied, smile brightening when the little brunette hugged
his beloved tight, gripping her toy filled hands around his best friend's neck.

The woman at the door let out a relieved sigh, then when she realized Brooklyn's arms were
busy, she shyly set a stuffed duffle-looking bag into Damian's arms.

The audacity! What did he look like? A coat rack?

"I'll pay you when I get back!"The woman said, already rushing down the hall where this so
called cop named Jim was likely waiting, "Thank you! Say hello to your folks for me and
congratulations on the adoption papers for you and Harley!"

Brooklyn stuck her head out the door once to wave at the woman, then turned sheepishly
towards Damian, bouncing the squealing kid in her arms.

"Are you ok with having a kid around for a while?" Brooklyn whispered, almost pleading, as
she listened to the child rant about some new toys.

Damian was honestly struck with confusion.

The presence of the child at the fair with Brooklyn and Parker suddenly made sense, the
woman clearly knew them. Normally, Damian wanted to be as far away from children as
possible, his adult brothers with children's minds being the only exception to that rule.

He'd never liked the dreadful little creatures, they were too weak, to dependent and messy.
But that had only changed slightly during his punishment with Brooklyn at the pre-school
months ago.

With her help, they'd managed to get their work done without a hitch. Brooklyn was good
with kids, and she clearly favored this one...so he merely clutched the bag's strap against his
shoulder and made his way back inside.

Brooklyn followed closely after until they made it to the couch.

Cassie sat on Brooklyn's lap comfortably, then turned to Damian with a quizzical brow.
"Brooky, who is that?" the child asked, stretching out her fingers as if to touch Damian.

"Thats Damian, he's staying here with me for a bit"

Damian frowned at the child's gesture to be passed onto his arms, almost contemplating
scooting back further into the edge of the couch.

The young girl smiled, looking deep into his eyes as she turned to Brooklyn.

"I like him! He reminds me of an angry cat" Cassie said, sending Damian into a real of
confusion as to how someone could decide such things in seconds. Being referenced to as an
angry cat wasn't really sitting well with him either...

Thats when Titus came back into he living room, stopping when he noticed the small person
in Brooklyn's arms.

Damian knew his dog well, knew the slight shift of those paws meant he'd honed into another
threat. Realizing the kid was an innocent, Damian ordered, "Titus, stand down"

His beloved looked to Titus then, sending him a pointed look, as if daring him to attack. It
was almost impossible to imagine that one command from Damian and glare from his
beloved were enough to get the canine to stand down.

Usually, Damian would have to shout a few more commands once Titus was set on an enemy.
But he'd been friendly with Brooklyn since his arrival, had protected and cared for her in a
way his dog only did with Damian.

He'd never thought Titus would show kindness to any other being but himself, but since the
first time Brooklyn commanded him to stand down, it was like he'd lost his fangs around her.

A true mystery of the world.

Somehow Titus approving of Brooklyn served as further reassurance that she was an
adequate friend. It was soothing.

Unfortunately, the small child did not know of Titus' dangerous capabilities, because she took
one look at the large black dog and rushed out of Brooklyn's arms to hug him. Damian froze,
felt Brooklyn do the same beside him as the dog's black eyes widened, sitting posture
stiffening.

Five seconds went by, all of which Titus spent looking between him and Brooklyn.

Though Titus let out a half-hearted growl, Cassie did not back down from her petting of his
head. And even though Titus seemed to be miserable, he merely laid on the carpeted ground
and let the child do as she pleased with a sour expression.

Titus truly wouldn't attack....

Damian's dog remained passive since then, though he sometimes fled from Cassie when she
got it into her head that Titus needed a glittery crown atop his head. It turned out that the bag
Damian had been handed over was full of toys, snacks, a change of clothes, and things he
deemed completely unnecessary.

Brooklyn was good at keeping the child from latching onto Damian's legs too often, but that
all changed at dinner time. Since they had a small guest, Brooklyn had set about making
Cassie's food while Damian took care of their own with a recipe from Pennyworth.

Yesterday when he'd called, Damian had simply said the Stark had been in peril, and that he,
Jon and Parker were keeping surveillance during the weekend. Pennyworth didn't need to
know he was alone with her, though he seemed to actually like Brooklyn, Damian wouldn't
take his chances letting it be known he was friends with what his family viewed as an enemy.

Damian didn't want Pennyworth to know he was taking care of someone either, who knew
what the old man would make of it, probably something sappy about becoming a better
person.

As Brooklyn took to one side of the counter, Damian chopped vegetables in the other.

Behind them, Titus and Cassie had taken their seats in the kitchen table, awaiting food as the
child read a book about green eggs and ham to Titus. Damian was just hoping the child
wouldn't be expecting a disgusting meal consisting of all that.

His beloved had put some soothing music as they worked, now used to how they could work
in tandem in the kitchen, they were both comfortable diving up the work with ease.

It was incredulous, Damian had hated the act of cooking at first, thought it was too much
work and far too time consuming to be worth much. But then he'd made a successful dish,
and though he'd never be able to shove it in his sibling's faces, it still eased Damian knowing
he was good at that too, especially cutting things.

"Cassie is Scott Lang's daughter" Brook whispered to him, "You know, Ant man?"

Damian nodded, familiar with the hero he was sure Brooklyn had already mentioned once or
twice.

"Since he's stuck on house arrest, or missions now a days, Peter and I go spent some time
with her once a month, take her letters from Scott and such. His ex-wife was the woman at
the door, she remarried to the guy who works that the police station now"

As he placed items on a hot pan, Damian snuck a gale at the chipper child with rosy cheeks,
wearing a Captain America shirt with matching red skirt that was perhaps meant to be that
flamboyant. Said child did not mind Titus' glare as she read, in fact, she chuckled at it.

What an odd girl.

"You are fond of her then?" Damiana asked his beloved, watching as she placed a bag of
dinosaur shaped nuggets into the microwave. Was that what toddlers ate? Disgusting.

Brook leaned against the counter, eyes bright as she nodded.

"I swore to protect her from all harm, and I intend to keep that promise. There should be at
least one child who gets a happy begging right?"

Damian knew she was thinking of her own past, the one his beloved trusted him with more
and more each day just as he did with his own. Her way of looking at this situation, wanting
the child to live happily, it almost made sense.

Maybe having kids be weak and dependent was a luxury, one neither Damian or Brooklyn
had been granted.

He certainly witnessed the perks of living without fights or blood on your hands as he
watched the child eat, as Cassie played guessing games with Brooklyn at the table. The child
was always smiling, seeing beauty in everything, living with minimal fears and worries.

It seemed to do her well.

So as the four ate their meals in relative peace, Damian still couldn't shake the absurdity of it
all away. If only his father could see him now, sitting in Brooklyn's home, Titus calm by his
side, a child with them, and Damian's hair still smelling of a Stark's shampoo.

It might very well give his father the heart attack Todd had been hoping for.

Damian's mother wouldn't have been any better. If Talia saw him dining with a Red Room
agent, letting a child walk her animal nuggets by his plate...she might very well force him to
return to the League for rehabilitation.

But there was nothing wrong with being here, Damian couldn't find it in him to see spending
time with his best friend as anything awful.

It was like his beloved had said. In here, they were just Damian and Brooklyn.

As the evening dragged on and the sky darkened outside, they had to take Titus to the park
for a walk. Brooklyn had carried the toddler in her arms while Damian dealt with Titus' leash
as they walked side by side under the night sky.

Damian occasionally humored Cassie by answering some of her silly questions.

What is your favorite gummy bear color? He'd had none, but said red for the child's sake.

Do you have a favorite bird? A Robin. Brooklyn had chuckled at that particular answer.

By the end of the talk, Damian had answered so many foolish questions that he'd actually
grown tired from it. Though he had no clue how, the four of them ended up on the couch
shortly after, watching Titus' television show.

At some point, they must've all fallen asleep, because while the TV was still on when Damian
woke at the sound of a doorbell, Brooklyn's head was resting against his shoulder, Cassie
somehow ending up sleeping between them, clutching their chests with a plastic crown atop
her head.
Tutus was sprawled between both his and his beloved's feet, sleeping soundly until he too
heard the doorbell.

After a sleepy Brooklyn had woken up in alarm, dagger in hand, they'd both made their way
to the door slowly, a child still sleeping in her arms. Titus had remained by their side as
Damian went forward to investigate if it was a friend or foe.

It was just Cassie's mom who wanted her child returned.

The woman had seemed pleased at the sleeping Cassie that was returned to her, as the child
bag was handed over to her tall husband who looked like a serious man, but seemed to smile
often. He too had been slightly astounded by Damian's presence, even more so by the sounds
of Titus barking inside.

Both adults had expressed their joy at seeing Brook again and expressed their thanks with a
few dollar bills. Though Brooklyn had refused, they'd been very persistent.

Once the couple had finally left with their child, Damian was actually astounded that he felt
the child's absence so soon. He was even more so when Brooklyn counted the bills and
handed half to him.

When Damian raised a brow her way, trying to get her to understand how foolish it would be
to give him money of all people.

"You helped take care of her today" Brooklyn argued, stuffing the bills into the chest pocket
of his flannel, "You deserve half"

With a roll of his eyes, Damian had let the matter be, and once their nightly routines were
over and both were ready for bed, there was a mental understanding that they'd share her bed.
It was no longer a novelty, and though Damian had never expected it, it felt quite normal.

Laying her tight to his chest, running his hands along the scars on her back to soother her into
sleep, it brought him some peace, especially with Titus as company.

It was no longer startling to wake up by her side either, but today had been different because
he'd have to return back home soon. Pennyworth was set to arrive in a few hours, but Damian
couldn't help but stay in bed for a few extra minutes, glad to see color had returned to
Brooklyn's skin, realizing she'd slept peacefully throughout the night.

When she'd woken at the sound of rain, Brooklyn had smiled sleepily up at him, complaining
about how cold it was outside the bed sheets, clinging closer to his chest.

Damian was indeed a fool, an idiot for staying in bed when it was time to get up. The only
thing that managed to get them to rise was a message from Parker which GIL displayed as a
hologram before them.

Happy will come pick us up in the afternoon, he said to pack well for the week. See you
soon!
Just as Damian would spend his free week from school at home, so would Brooklyn. Both
their parents were set to return tonight from their mission as well, and the Wayne could only
hope they'd been successful in some manner or another.

Clearly, there were many enemies out there to worry about aside from the Joker and whoever
his master could be. But the Joker had no masters, he could not be tamed or forced to comply.
Working with him was like asking to get betrayed, and Damian hoped such a betrayal would
not harm his father or the others.

For their last breakfast together, they'd both foregone cooking, deciding to save their time by
having Parker drop off a bag of fresh bagels on the balcony. Damian hated having that
clueless idiot do things for him, but if it meant more peace and quiet...he'd swallow his
annoyance.

Though they spent the next few hours watching TV calmly and just talking, the time to go
downstairs had eventually come.

Damian had only packed his school supplies and some necessities Jon had brought over, that
along with Titus' things were put into a black duffle bag. Damian was still in the spare room
he'd come to know well when Brooklyn came inside with a knock at the door.

"Jon says he'll be here in a few minutes, he'll wait for you by the front of my building to
make it look like you both stayed here" Brooklyn said, tapping her phone screen as she
watched him pack.

Damian hummed in agreement, and once all his belongings were set...he had no idea what to
do.

He knew they would still talk every night for the next week, but it would feel odd not seeing
her personally for a while.

"In that case I'll see you next week, just...don't get captured again, I don't want my
Thanksgiving to be ruined by having to go down some water well or into a haunted mansion
to rescue you" Damian said, placing the bag on his shoulder after his black coat was on.

Brooklyn stepped forward, grabbing the green scarf out of his hands and winding it securely
along his neck as she chuckled.

"We do always lead each other to the nicest places, right? Schools with bombs, malls with
assassins, and abandoned buildings with murderous clowns" she joked, " I'll try to keep my
schedule busy so there is no time for a kidnapping, don't worry"

Though they were joking, Damian couldn't help but worry still. At least she'd go back to the
Avengers compound soon enough, that had to be safer.

Not knowing what else to say, Damian watched as Brooklyn finished wrapping the scarf, and
he took one last look and her living breathing self, still wearing that silly pajama combo with
cartoon characters, before making his way over to the door of the room with Titus in tow.
 Even Titus seemed hesitant to leave, but Brooklyn had snatched his ears one last time, which
seemed to placate him.

Damian made to leave down the hall to the door, but hesitated.

He turned around, as if his body was planning to walk back to her, but Damian straightened
his thoughts and moved back out the door.

That hesitation came again, and this time when he turned back, Titus let out a growl and
actually shoved Damian's legs to walk over to his beloved.

What had gotten into him!?

Still, Damian walked back to stand before Brooklyn, and before he could think of his actions
properly, he leaned down, hovering his face down before her own, waiting for her to question
his act or move away.

But she did not.

Just like that day at school, this time it was Damian who leaned in close and placed his lips
on the tip of her nose the way she had done to him once. He let his lips linger for a few
seconds, unsure why he was doing this and only being able to scold himself once he'd
stepped back.

Brooklyn looked confused, but not annoyed or angry. She touched to tip of her nose slowly
and in disbelief, but then smiled at his action as if she were proud of him.

"See you soon, my beloved" he said hoarsely, then moved quickly out the door only to hear
her say, "See you, Dami"

Why had he done that?

Why!?

Damian was grumpy and too lost in his thoughts on the ride back home, letting Jon makeup
lies about how the weekend had gone. Titus sat beside Damian, head faced to the back mirror
as if the dog were trying to hold on to Brooklyn's home a little longer.

The only thing the Wayne knew for sure is that he'd need to have a serious talk with his dog
when they made it back home....and perhaps one with himself as his lips tingled in confusion.

Chapter End Notes

Hopefully this chapter helped explain why Damian has been a lot more open that usual.
It's because he is learning the value of those in his life, because he is comfortable around
Brooklyn and is slowly becoming even more so as their trust in one another has grown.
Its because he lost her, and like when Brooklyn thought she'd lost Damian, they had
clung to one another, needing that reassurance that the other was alive.

Also, just as Brooklyn gave Titus a chance even though she hates dogs, Damian also
subconsciously did the same with Cassie despite his distaste of children.

They learn from one another, lean on each other more.

This is both Damian's and Brooklyn's journey towards being something better after all.

Next chapter will show an Avengers styled Thanksgiving with a few unexpected guests
*evil smirk* Hope you enjoy the story!
 Talks with the Moms
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Mom wasn't joking when she said a Stark party was a big deal, and in the eyes of the press, it
was actually dubbed 'The Biggest and Most Exclusive Party of the Year'.

Downstairs, the music was already blasting, guests had arrived, but it all seemed like muffled
noise from inside the room as mom pinned Brooklyn's hair into a high ponytail.

The girl sat patiently on a small vanity, trying to convince herself that everything would be
fine considering she knew most of the people who were invited. Unlike past parties hosted by
her dad, this one was a little more private, which according to mom mean only about five
dozen guests aside from family.

The floor below was dubbed the party hall, something Brooklyn was not at all surprised the
Stark Industries building in California had. This was one of the first Industry buildings built
by Tony, and dad had been a bit of a party freak back in the day, or perhaps he still was...

"Don't be nervous" mom said as she placed pins on her hair delicately, "If you feel
uncomfortable, you can always sneak outside and no one will blame you for it. Parties can be
a little...chaotic at times"

Not that Brooklyn would ever dare to admit it to mom, but she'd already been to a club once,
and an unsupervised teenage party hosted by Flash Thompson. Brook had a feeling that if she
did, the current party meant to serve as congratulations for both her and Harley would be
cancelled.

It was a shame Damian wouldn't be here to work his magic glare to keep people at bay this
time...

It had only been a day since the week long Thanksgiving break had begun, and yet, she
couldn't help but...feel the absence of his company. But alas, the world would end before dad
let a Wayne into this building willingly.

"I'm just not used to the act of being celebrated is all" the teen said, looking at both hers and
Pepper's reflection in the mirror when mom smiled.

"You better get used to it" mom said with a faint laugh, "Every accomplishment that you have
we'll celebrate to make up for lost time. I can't wait until you graduate high school, then
college, for all the birthdays and the day of your wedding"

Brook had never celebrated her birthday, not that there was any chance to back in the Red
Room considering the day of your brith was a day full of torture, a sign that you had survived
for the next stage of training.

As for a wedding, Brooklyn wasn't entirely sure if that day would ever come, not that she'd
given it much thought. Besides, she'd already had a fake wedding with Damian once, again, it
wasn't like she could make that joke without exposing a Wayne was now her best friend.

The memory of that day made a faint smile form on Brook's face anyways.

"You know, Peter offered to stay by your side all day. Isn't that great?" Pepper said, pinning
the last of her hair, then beginning to fixing the lapels of Brooklyn's black cocktail dress.

He had?

They'd both been so busy training yesterday to really talk, even during meals, the team had
spent as much time as they could asking about school and patrols so conversation between
her and Peter had been scarce. But of course Peter would volunteer to stay at her side, aside
from Harley, they were likely the only 'kids' in attendance.

"That was kind of him" Brooklyn replied simply, running a hand through her golden necklace
back and forth nervously.

She knew some reporters had been invited, that strangers would be downstairs...but it was
silly to be afraid, she'd been through more treacherous things lately after all, especially as of
late.

Mom stopped her fussing then, seeming hesitant before asking, "How are things with you and
Peter lately?"

Lately? Well, he was sticking close to her side because she'd been kidnapped, but hey,
nothing else was new...

"Or friendship is good, we've been doing well on patrols and I suppose academically. Peter is
still a very prominent rival for my goals of becoming valedictorian though, so I've been
trying to make sure my grades stay up."

Mom sat down beside her on the small patted bench, hands gently clutching Brooklyn's own,
looking down at them. Brook thought mom was about to scold her for the visible bracelet-
like bumps under her sleeves from her retracted gauntlets.

She couldn't really help but want to be prepared for everything! It had been a crazy few days!

"I meant..he's a really sweet kid, he seems to care about you a great deal" mom said, as if that
was clarification for something.

"I suppose, we are friends after all" Brooklyn mused, moving to place her red lipstick on.

As Brooklyn put down the lipstick stick, inspecting her work, mom leaned back, trying to
seem relaxed. There was something turning in her mind, and mom was not often the kind to
hold back words, something she and dad had in common.
"The only other people I've seen you so at ease with are your friends, and Damian Wayne"

Brooklyn paused her fussing, trying not to go wide eyed at mom's words. After a steading
breath, Brook replied wearily, "He's my enemy, a Wayne, he's the person I should be the least
at ease with mom"

That wasn't the case of course.

Damian was the one person in the world she could trust fully, the one she could be around at
home with comfortably. He was her teammate, her best friend, the one person who
understood everything dark and damaged inside her sense of self.

Mom just couldn't know that.

Pepper stood up then, fixing her blue dress as she made to fetch her own make up bag. Over
her shoulder, mom said, "Just because he's the person you should be the least at ease with,
doesn't make it necessary. Tony might think so, but when I spent the day with you and him at
the museum, Damian seemed...different"

Brook wasn't liking where this was going, but she still asked wearily, "Different how?"

Once mom was back in the seat, she busied her self with some blush.

"I knew Damian since his first gala event when he was about ten" mom said, "He was...well
now that we know he came from an assassin background, his behavior makes more sense.
Damian was rude, loud, and glared at every living thing that approached him. When you met
him for the first time at the Metropolis Gala, he was less boisterous, picked less fights, but he
had a deadly silence to him, like a silent animal waiting to pounce"

The sounded exactly like how Clark Kent had described Dami in his youth.

"I don't see the point of this conversation yet" Brooklyn admitted, trying not to recall how
smart her mom was. Could she have figured it out? That they were not enemies any longer...

Mom chuckled, "I'm just saying that the day we spent with him, that the Wayne seemed
different, and you were too"

Brooklyn smiled nervously, but almost sighed in relief when a knock came at the door. Peter
was asking if she was ready to go downstairs but not opening the door out of privacy.

The teen tried not to bolt out of the vanity as she hugged her mom then made it to the door.
She refused to say anything else on the matter, or even show she was relieved mom did not
hold the same hatred for the Waynes as dad did.

Like Pepper had said, Peter intended to spend the party by Brook's side. Just the two of them.
That didn't mean anything of course, they were just friends, this was a friend's duty.

When she opened the large doors of the guest room, Peter stood before it in a slightly
wrinkled white shirt and dress pants. His sleeves were rolled up, and his fluffy brown hair
was less disheveled than usual.
His eyes went wide when she opened the door fully with a simple greeting.

"Wow! You look really beautiful" Peter said, eyeing the black dress and her combed back
hair.

It was just a compliment...not a huge deal either.

"Um...mom lent me the dress" Brook replied idiotically, and when he made a little beckoning
hand motion to follow him down the hall, she couldn't help but look back at her mom, who
just mentioned she'd be down in a minute.

So, despite her nervousness, Brooklyn went down to the tenth floor where the party was in
full blast. She greeted the guests that walked up to her, all of which congratulated her on her
adoption from Pepper.

Once Peter and Brooklyn found Harry though, they dragged him away from his dad (who
looked at Brook nervously, as he should) and they found a lone table to gossip about school
affairs until the party announcement started.

It felt odd sitting at a table without the rest of their friends, but few people came to bother
them with introductions, even less daring to ask Brook for a dance with Harry as he
bodyguard and the rest of the Avengers looking their way like overbearing parents.

Yet, the party was not so bad, seeing everyone having fun for once had been a rare treat
Brook did not know she needed. Harley had also made to join them, and the four teens spent
hours eating, playing games, or listening to Harry gossip about all the guests Brooklyn was
snot familiar with.

In fact, maybe celebrations weren't so bad after all...

......

Pepper POV-

The woman fixed the last remnants of her make up, wondering if she'd said too much to her
daughter, if she'd been to obvious with her suspicions.

Though Pepper had been intending to talk to Brook about her feelings for Peter for while,
that had completely changed after the events of three days ago.

Brook had been uncharacteristically silent on Friday, not a single text or call, so Pepper had
decided to check up on her daughter via video call. As always, GIL answered the call
automatically, a privilege saved for family...but when the call came through, there was no one
in the living room.

Minutes went by with no one showing up and the woman had considered hanging up until
she heard...she heard two voices approaching. One of those was vaguely familiar, but quite
impossible.
Pepper had despised herself for doing it, but she blocked the camera of her computer with her
thumb as quickly as possible so that the TV screen would appear black.

It was very late in the day, already dark out, which is why Pepper thought she'd hallucinated
seeing Brooklyn walking into the living room with Damian Wayne and a dog that was
probably half the height of her daughter.

A Wayne...and a dog....

Those two teens were not fighting as Pepper had expected once she realized that truly was
Damian Wayne. They were not bickering or shouting, and in all honestly, Pepper was
surprised the Wayne even knew where Brooklyn lived.

They were both in pajamas, sending her out of that panic attack that something else was
going on between them, something Brooklyn was still far too young for in Pepper's mind.
They merely walked over to the kitchen with the dog in tow, which was weird all on its own
considering Brooklyn hated dogs passionately.

Pepper watched in confusion as the two cooked up a meal, working together and every
laughing at words the woman could not hear.

As far as she knew, Brooklyn was not able to cook either.

Was that really her daughter? Was this some sort of prank from Sam or Scott?

It looked real though.

The woman watched as the Wayne took out eggs from the fridge, which filled with more food
than usual. Brooklyn usually forgot to go to the grocery store, often claimed she was hesitant
to go in fear of being recognized by people. But the kitchen had plenty of food today, and not
just quick and easy meals, but ingredients to cook.

The very large and scary-looking dog sat down regally on one of the kitchen stools, as if
waiting for a meal like a child, or perhaps more so like a king.

But Brooklyn and Damian were too busy conversing to notice, in fact, Pepper's daughter was
smiling, broadly and unrestrained. She'd rarely seen Brook be so free with her emotions like
that...it almost made her drop the finger from the camera.

In a state of shock, Pepper watched as the two teens cooked, glancing at the Wayne's phone
for guidance often. She witnessed as they bumped shoulders playfully while sharing the
stove, saw the impossible sight of a Stark and Wayne at peace with one another.

It was as if they'd known one another all their lives, that was the only way Pepper could
describe it...

The boy Pepper knew to be cruel and harsh was not so in that moment. Though Damian
Wayne was not smiling broadly, he stood relaxed, complied a few closed lipped smiles that
seemed so genuine it was almost scary, made him look his age and not some smaller version
of his stoic father.
The woman almost fell out of her chair when she saw Brooklyn reach into a brown bag for a
bowl, filled it up with dog food...and gently placed it before the waiting Great Dane. The dog
barked out once in thanks, then rubbed his/her nose against Brooklyn's arm gently.

Brook did not step back at the action, she merely rolled her eyes and moved to help the
Wayne serve their dinner.

Pepper sat there, free hand covering her mouth as she blinked a couple times faster than
normal. Though the woman was well aware she'd yet to learn much about Brooklyn's past,
she knew for a fact that there was a time the young girl had lived in poverty in the alleys of
New York. Brook despised dogs to this day because she'd once had to fight them for food to
survive...yet there she was, feeding one willingly.

Even though her eyes were bulged from the impossible sight, Pepper still felt a few tears of
joy prickle from her eyes.

This is all she'd wanted for Brooklyn since she met her. To be happy, at ease, cared for and as
far away from the dark days of her past.

Though she still felt criminal for spying, Pepper watched as the teens ate their food,
discussing things as they ate in a calm manner. Pepper was certain that for generations, a
Stark and a Wayne had not been able to sit at the same table without trouble arising.

The only time hidden weapons were drawn was when they all seemed to hear a noise outside
by the balcony. As one, Brooklyn and Damian took out two daggers that looked identical.
Pepper recognized them as her daughter's work, daggers Brook had shown her proudly, that
she'd constructed out of vibranium.

Pepper knew Brook understood that was a priceless metal, knew that her daughter valued
weapons more than she did jewelry or clothes. The fact that a Wayne had one, that Brooklyn
did not look surprised to see it in his hands, meant that it had been given willingly.

As far as Pepper could discern, that was the equivalent of a man giving a woman jewelry but
in an assassin sort of way. But more than that, Brooklyn being someone who'd once had so
little, being willing to give things away...it made a surprised chuckle erupt from Pepper.

Once the two teens (and the dog now standing protectively before them) realized it was just a
flock of birds flying by, they merely relaxed and went back to their meal.

Had Pepper imagined it, or did it look like Brooklyn had been trying to protect Damian from
an unknown threat and vise versa? Their bodies had leaned towards one another, it was
unmistakable...

By the time meals were finished and dishes washed, the two sat down in the living room,
shoulder to shoulder on the couch with the black dog resting comfortably by their feet, plush
dog toy of the famous Joker between his/her teeth.

Pepper was afraid they'd try to turn on the TV only to realize she was there, so the woman
made to end the call until she saw the pair reach for papers on the small coffee table.
Now that they were close to the camera, Pepper could hear all they were saying at last.

"The cold weather always reminds me of my days back in Moscow" Brooklyn said with a
sigh, pulling a blue afghan closer to her body, "Too bad I don't have any more Yule
invitations for us to burn for warmth"

What!? Brooklyn HAD been asked to the dance!?

"At least their words of disrespect were good for something" Damian Wayne said, glaring at
the fire place below the TV.

Seeming to register the complaint of the cold from earlier, the Wayne gathered the cream
colored afghan from his side of the couch and threw it over Brooklyn's body. The teen
chuckled (a sound that made Pepper smile broadly) before using the blanket covering her
face to make it seem like she was a ghost, taunting the boy beside her.

Said boy did not scowl or huff in annoyance, the only responses Pepper had known the boy to
have before their trip out to eat and to the museum. Instead, Damian gently placed the blanket
back into place around her arms, and when Brook's face peeked out, he smoothed out her
wild red hair with a shake of his head.

"Don't tell me you actually believe ghosts exist, my beloved?"

Pepper's free hand collapsed on the desk, and the woman had never been more glad she'd
silenced her mic as she began muttering nonsense even she could not comprehend.

It was like every Stark in history was trying to give her a heart attack, first Tony with his
continuous needless sacrifice, now Brook with this...

But...beloved!?

Since when did Brooklyn allow endearments other than Brook, of Tony's own self thought of
Daphne? Was...was there truly something else going on? Had Pepper been worried Brook
would push people aside, that she'd never let herself love, all for nothing?

Brooklyn smirked, leaning her head on the Wayne's shoulder comfortably (seeming to have
asked for permission with a simple lock of their eyes) as she replied, "Of course not, but
we've fought mutants, alien weapons, and who knows what else. Your godfather and your
friend are aliens, and I'm pretty sure you confessed last night that your grandfather is a feared
assassin who was rumored to have lived for centuries. You really don't think there is a
possibility ghosts could exist?"

The Wayne opened and closed his mouth a few times, but eventually sighed, glaring almost
playfully at Brooklyn as he replied dryly, "I suppose it's not impossible, but I'd rather the
dead stay dead. My siblings have almost all died at some point or another and come back to
life, thats already enough taunts to Thanatos in my opinion"

Pepper watched as Brooklyn sat up straight, chuckling at his words.

"Thanatos? The mythical god of death? You really believe in that guy but not ghosts?" Brook
said, almost amused as Damian nodded in all seriousness.

"Of course" the boy replied, brining documents closer to his side of the coffee table as he
added, "You forget that the greek god Ares fueled WW2, that a member of the Justice League
is an amazon, daughter of Zeus by her accounts. I myself will never pray to any god, but that
doesn't make them any less real. It just makes them a very real threat"

Pepper was more than fed up most days when she remembered aliens and gods exited, but
everyone at the compound often found it amusing. They often joked of Thor's mythological
background, had gotten Brooklyn to joke about it as well multiple times by now during
training.

In the living room, Brooklyn chuckled, "Yes, but Thor is a member of the Avengers and a
norse god, son of Odin"

The two teens stared at one another pointedly, as if they were about to debate the superiority
of Norse vs Greek mythologies...but then Brooklyn collapsed back onto the couch in a fit of
giggles, Damian Wayne relenting a singly wider smile than that from earlier, this one
displaying signs of some dimples.

"So your family acknowledges the Greek and mine the Norse...even when it comes to gods
our lives clash!" Brooklyn said amusedly.

Pepper was left sitting there, wondering how on Earth or any world beyond a Wayne and a
Stark had avoided an argument so easily.

The Wayne half-smiled at his red-shirt, "Even so, our friendship doesn't seem to be deterred
by yet another difference in our lives"

Brook sat up then quickly, eyes wide as she smiled up at who appeared to be...her friend.

A Stark and a Wayne...friends...secret friends by the looks of it, and Pepper supposed, with
good reason.

Brooklyn's eyes went soft then as she beheld what Pepper did too, there was worry in the
Wayne's eyes, however small. Pepper was surprised once more when her daughter reached
out and held out a hand before the Wayne's cheek, once again seemly trying to ask for
permission to touch him.

Pepper knew that Brooklyn was still very reserved when it came to physical contact in the
sense that she would not accept overly long hugs from anyone other than her, Tony, Harley,
and Steven, maybe even some of her school friends. But those two were very good
friends....by the looks of it, closer friends than Brook was with Peter Parker.

Once Brook's hand made contact with Damian's cheek, the two teens locked eyes, green on
brown as her daughter smiled softly.
"Dami, remember what I said last night" Brook whispered just loud enough for Pepper to
hear, "In here, when it's just the two of us, there is nothing else. Ok?"

The Wayne's gaze softened for half a second before he rolled his eyes.

"Of course, beloved" the Wayne replied simply, leaning his cheek ever so slightly onto
Brook's hand.

Pepper watched in awe as Brooklyn nodded in agreement, then leaned forward so that her
lips hovered before his nose. When the Wayne stayed still, Pepper almost knocked over the
coffee on her desk as she beheld her daughter place a quick kiss to Damian's nose.

Both teens closed their eyes then, lingering in that position for a few seconds before
Brooklyn bolted up from the couch.

"Then let's get to work! We have a Red Room to find and destroy!"

As Pepper watched the two teens disappear down the hall with a dog in tow, she was still
trying to process it all, not just what she had seen but what she had heard.

More importantly, her motherly instincts were ringing in alarm at the casualness in which
Brooklyn mentioned destroying an assassin organization. Why would they want to do that
now!? Should she intervene?

Her thought had been paused when Harley came into the room, still in his pjs and looking
sleepily around the room. Pepper quickly ended the video call, still not sure what to do with
the information she had found.

The woman focused on Harley then, still trying to figure out why the poor kid had been
having trouble sleeping these past days (likely because Tony was out on a mission, or maybe
nerves for the dance).

Yet another thing to ponder on.

Pepper quickly came to the conclusion that there was no way Tony could know about
Brooklyn's interesting friendship with the young Wayne. Though it was unexpected, that
friendship seemed to be very good not just for Brook, but for Damian as well. There was
something special about it, something that Pepper swore she'd never get between.

As Pepper held her son in an embrace on the office couch, letting him relax, she realized her
worry from a few days ago about Brooklyn being heartbroken had been so unnecessary.

The memory of that day had swirled in Pepper's mind for days, even more so when Brook
and Peter had arrived at the compound for Thanksgiving week. It had been a struggle not to
say anything to her daughter, to offer words of assurance.

When the woman finally joined the party with Tony by her side, she couldn't help but note
the difference between those interactions and the way Brook and Peter were like now. The
two did not go up to dance once, they mostly sat at a nearly table to talk, but Brooklyn did
not seem as relaxed as she had been back in her apartment.
Sure, people kept going up to her to introduce themselves, but it seemed that even when she
was alone with Parker, things were not the same.

Because the rest of the team thought Brooklyn had a crush on Peter, something Pepper wasn't
so sure of anymore, they all tried at least once during the party to get the teens closer. It was
silly things, like Sam accidentally knocking Peter into Brook's arms, or Wanda insisting the
two teens should go play pool together so Peter could teach her.

Pepper listened to Tony's mental debate throughout those attempts. Her fiancé was unhappy
his daughter had her first crush, but at the same time, he couldn't think of a single person that
was more worthy.

Pepper could think of one person that was more so, one who had perhaps gotten their closed
off daughter to relax more than they had ever dreamed possible.

A Wayne of all people.

By the time the four Starks stood above the balcony railing, lookin down onto the main room
as Tony was giving his speech about family, Pepper held onto her daughter's hand, hoping to
silently convey her approval of the new friend Brooklyn kept in secret.

Cameras flashed, taking photos of the family as one, but all Pepper could think about was
that morning from days ago, watching Brooklyn interact with a person who would be seen as
an enemy in this building, also wondering what had led those two to where they were now. It
made Pepper feel like a bad parent for not noticing sooner, even when she had known the two
kids could at least be civil with one another after the day spent with them at the museum.

She couldn't help but think that perhaps there was someone more worthy than Peter Parker
out there after all, someone Pepper was incredibly thankful for as she watched her daughter
smile down at the crowds.

Damian POV-

By sundown, Damian had left the comforts of the Batcave. Having trained for over four
hours, all the Wayne wanted to do was to go to his room and stay there undisturbed until his
beloved called for their routine nightly talk.

Fate had other plans.

As he left the dark cave behind, the elevator dropped him off back at the mansion. Damian
had been walking by the kitchen, intent on getting more water, when he noticed Selina was
sitting alone, staring out at the expanse of the backyard.

Normally, Damian would take one look at the woman and would choose to walk as far away
as possible. As of late, he'd been taking Brooklyn's advice and begrudgingly spent more time
with Selina, mostly in silence, feeding the cluster of stay cats that took residence in the small
pet homes out in the yard.
Damian was still weary of the woman, unhappy about her past crimes as Catwoman, angry at
her possible marriage to father for something as idiotic as money. But he'd cut back on the
insults even though he was far from ever acknowledging her as his mother, the way his
siblings had already grown accustomed to.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Damian moved the small towel around his neck, placing
his katanas on the holsters on his back before walking in, making a beeline towards the
fridge.

Selina noted his presence then, or at least acknowledged it with a simple greeting.

"Hello Damian" the woman said, "I hope you left the bat cave standing for when everyone
returns"

Damian busied himself looking inside the fridge, fighting the scowl on his face as he replied
as kindly as he could, "If you presume I damaged anything, then the answer is no. The only
destructive idiot in this family is Todd"

Selina chuckled, at last turning away from the gardens to face the kitchen. Damian saw her
reflection turn to him once he closed the fridge with water bottle in hand.

She was smirking.

"Your father told me enough stories of your youth that would suggest you were quite the little
mischievous kid back in the day. Destroying the shrubbery outside, stealing the Batmobile,
you know, things like that"

Damian finished the water bottle in one go, trying to quell the anger people often made him
feel when they talked nonsense. He was already pissed father had not allowed him to go on
today's mission to the docks, where the Joker was said to have been spotted at last.

If such a claim was true, then Damian was bound to miss out on a good fight.

The three days his family had been gone with the Avengers had proved to show little results.
They had stopped a few cargo shipments of weapons but had yet to figure out where they had
come from and where they were going, and the Joker had not been spotted once.

Though he was angry for not being allowed to go, almost tempted to sneak out himself,
Damian was left in charge of making sure pregnant Selina was safe. It was a stupid task, one
meant to guilt trip Damian into staying. Usually, such a tactic would not work, but father's
second heir was in that woman's belly, and Damian supposed that held some importance.

With a sigh, Damian leaned against the fridge, not bothering with facing the woman sitting
behind him.

"I had every right to be as such back then, when my grandfather had just died and I found out
father tried to replace me with unworthy wards" Damian said, almost surprised when he
realized he no longer held any anger or resentment towards Dick or the others in that
moment.
He didn't even mourn his grandfather as he should. The memory of Ra's al Ghul did not spark
anger or need for vengeance, only a deep discontentment.

Not that Selina needed to know any of that turmoil in his mind.

The woman leaned back on the chair, one hand on her small baby bump, the other holding a
wine glass full of milk.

"Unworthy or not, they are your siblings. I hope you will at least try and think of the baby I
carry as one some day" she said simply, then turned on the TV by the windows as if she
expected Damian not to answer.

He turned around then, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants as he glared at the woman
before him. Damian had been so focused on the Joker, the team, Brooklyn, and even the
stupid dance to even consider what the new child would mean.

Damian would die before he admitted he considered the others as his siblings, it would go
right to their heads. But this new child WAS of Wayne blood, acknowledging it as anything
else would be...inappropriate.

He'd never had a true sibling, not one connected by blood. Yet, Damian had witnessed
Brooklyn's adopted sibling shed true tears of despair when he thought her dead, had seen as
his beloved mold into the role of 'sibling hood' for the kid's sake. He'd seen the books in her
apartment, the ones detailing how to be a good sibling, each marked with highlighters and
sticky notes made with care.

Brooklyn was like him in many ways, they shared the same past, had trouble opening up to
others as a result. But she had put in the effort to welcome someone into her new
family...would he benefit from doing the same?

Damian moved to the other side of the kitchen table, content on making sure the unborn
offspring was safe for a few more minutes before retreating back to his room. In the Wayne's
eyes, that was an extreme kindness to the fetus. It was progress.

The teen had been scrolling though his phone when a familiar voice spoke up, one that
should not be here.

"I'm not used to large events such as these, but I'm glad I was able to celebrate this special
occasion with my family" Brooklyn said, voice clear as day.

Damian's head whipped towards the TV, where Brooklyn stood in an interview, a party going
on behind her. She was dressed in finery, not a single sign that she'd been dead before him
days ago.

The person interviewing her was behind the camera, but it seemed to be a man by the sound
of his voice.

"It truly was a treat to be able to see the Stark family united together" the man said, "You four
truly are the image of wealth and unity, the royalty of New York"
Damian ignored Selina's small chuckle, instead focusing his attention on Brooklyn's forced
smile.

"This event was not meant to be a display of wealth of any sort, this was about celebrating
our family and how far we've come" she said as kindly as possible.

"For an assassin, the Stark's not doing too bad to pretend to be docile, bet the whole world is
fooled by those red lips and innocent eyes" Selina said after talking a sip of milk.

Damian felt the urge to argue that Brooklyn was not a danger of any sort ( perhaps IN danger
but not A danger), but Selina was not qualified to know that information, no one in this home
was...except for perhaps Pennyworth who'd figured out the truth himself.

Just as Brooklyn began talking about projects she was doing for Stark Industries and charity
events she was set to attend in the future, someone burst into the room.

Nightwing came rushing in, a frantic yet excited look in his eyes as he said, "A Stark is in our
house?! What a surprise!"

Grayson looked around the kitchen with vigor, that was until he beheld the interview on TV
and his expression became somewhat crestfallen. Behind him, everyone piled into the
kitchen, domino masks in hand and exhaustion clear in they features...as well as something
else.

No one seemed to be injured as they passed by Damian to hug Selina, and everyone was here
so that meant no one was dead. Even Barbara, who had gone on her first mission since the
attack on her life, seemed to be doing just fine, her brace looking unharmed.

Brooklyn would be pleased to know the modifications had been able to help Barbara keep up
with the others at least.

"Oh please," Selina said with a chuckle, "Why would you even think a Stark would be in here
of all places? You joke too much Dick"

Dick paused by the fridge, an idiotically sheepish smile on his face as he said, "I don't know,
I was just...getting ready for a fight"

Father came in then, cowl mask in hand and frown already spread across his face.

The mission had been unsuccessful then.

"If one were to fight with the Stark, it clearly needs to be done with caution by what we
witnessed today" Bruce said, moving to sit next to Selina and placing a kiss on her cheek.

Why was father so concerned with Brooklyn's abilities all of the sudden?

Trying to sound disinterested, Damian asked "Why should her abilities be of any concern at
the moment?"
Stephanie went to sit at the table by the large windows, Drake in tow. Over her shoulder, the
blonde clarified, "We couldn't find the Joker, but we did find Harley Quinn, and she looked
awful!"

Jason sat on the counter despite Alfred's constant warnings throughout the years not to do so.

Todd sent a nod to Selina in acknowledgement, and before tearing into a granola bar, the idiot
placed his helmet and mask on the table before Damian as he added, "Not just bad, if it
weren't for the hair and the outfit, I wouldn't have recognized her"

A series of hums of agreement came from all those who left on the mission, drowning out the
interview on TV.

It was Grayson who settled beside Damian, a plate of food before him as he asked, "Didn't
you say that the Stark was the one who attacked Harley Quinn at the school?"

Damian nodded, though he failed to mention he'd been unconscious when it had occurred.

Dick chuckled, "Then she must pack quite the punch because Harley's nose was slightly
crooked, missing a few teeth too"

Barbara added beside Stephanie, "I thought the black eyes were part of her edgy make-up,
but when a wave crashed into her, washed it all off, and I saw the damage...damn I'm pretty
sure her face is still swollen"

Damian recalled that Brooklyn had thought him dead after he'd been blasted, only saved by
the vibranium dagger he always carried around now a days. His beloved had mentioned being
angry, almost out of control when she assumed he'd died, but Damian's words from long ago
had brought her back.

No one seemed to be defending Harley Quinn right now, the woman had done so many awful
things to everyone that she hardly deserved any once of pity, but they seemed surprised more
than anything, ever father.

"That wasn't even the worst part" Jason said, voice low like he was telling a scary story, "The
Joker must've been pissed by her failure, clearly showed it"

Another round of agreements went around the room, some mentioning the sight of said
punishment was enough to knock the appetite out of them.

Again, trying to sound disinterested, Damian asked, "What did the Joker deemed worthy for
the failure to kill me with a mere bomb?"

Beside the teen, Dick sighed exhaustedly.

"When her make-up washed off, she didn't just have the signs of being punched by the Stark,
she had burn marks all over her face, mild but still visible"

Damian knew by now that the Joker was not above any form of torture, Jason could attest to
that, as could Barbara, and even Damian to some extent. But burning...how angry had the
Joker been? More importantly, was that how angry he was that Damian was still alive?

Todd smirked maliciously, "The shapes of the burns were not common either, it was like hot
iron firsts punched her face"

Damian recalled the Joker's mutant allies, how some of them had been able to wield the
elements, like fire and water. Had the Joker foregone punishing Harley himself and got one
of his mutants to do it?

If so, that meant he had more of them on his side.

Brooklyn had once taken on two twins with fire abilities, but they were behind bars. They'd
been powerful, a true hindrance to the missions back then, meaning Damian and the others
needed to be more prepared to stop enhanced beings in the future.

"The Joker must've been truly pissed she wasn't able to put that bomb at your school, demon"
Todd added, "Those burns on her face...I'm not sure what made them, but we all know he
loves setting things on fire. Yet she still found time to joke around and disappear off into the
night after trying to blow US up!"

"That hardly matters now" father said to the room, "the Joker is still steps ahead of us, and
he's starting to worm his way back into Gotham. If we don't want innocents to suffer the same
wrath of the Joker, we'll need to make sure to get ahead of him for once. Let's not even
mention the Stark here, we'll deal with her when she becomes a threat"

Damian did not bother to agree on the severity of the situation, he wasn't allowed to go on
patrols in Gotham anyways. He didn't even attack at the comment made against his beloved.
But he was worried to some extent, because the Joker was targeting not only him but
Brooklyn as well, and he despised thinking such a punishment could be bestowed upon her
one day.

She'd already died in his arms once, like hell he'd let that happen again.

No more failures.

Just as Damian made to go back upstairs, father's voice brought him to a halt.

"Damian, I expect you to come down for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, thats not up for
debate"

The teen did not bother to turn around to try and defy yet another order, instead, Damian
leaned against the doorway, looking out into the living room as he said, "Anymore unruly
requests father? Aside from taking a half-demon to a school dance, forcing me to sit on my
ass while you go fight our enemies, attending useless family meals, would you like me to do
something else? Why don't I just let you plan out every activity of my day then from now
on?"

Behind him, father sighed loudly, "That's not what I'm doing and you-"

Oh...he was fed up by now...

Damian still did not bother to turn around, even as he raised his voice to say, "In case you
haven't been noticing, that IS all you've been doing! Don't talk to the Stark! Don't fulfill your
duties as Robin! Don't choose who to attend a school dance with! Don't do what you were
trained to do! Don't attack the Joker even though it is clear I've had more success than you in
that department recently! Keep underestimating me, belittling me just because you don't
know how to keep your children from dying, so all you can do is make them suffer for your
peace of mind! Go ahead...keep shouting those orders if thats what you wish!"

Before he could punch something, like the door or someone's face, Damian huffed in
annoyance and left everyone behind as he rushed upstairs. Though Dick shouted after him
and father yelled after him, Damian made it to his room with no disturbance.

Instead of using his katanas to destroy every lamp in the room, Damian bid his time until
everyone went to bed, until his beloved called with tales of the Stark party she'd attended.
Her voice was soothing to his anger, and after a while he found himself eased, even when
Brooklyn mentioned Parker had been invited.

In return for the tales of her day, Damian mentioned Harley Quinn had been spotted, that
she'd clearly been punished by the Joker for the failure at the school.

"Thats what she gets for trying to kill you" Brooklyn whispered back, "Though I do feel bad
about how awful that punishment is, but only sightly"

Damian hated the woman almost as much as the Joker, but even he found the punishment to
be cruel, though not the worst thing he'd beheld.

"Why does she stay with the Joker? Why stay with him after that?" Brooklyn mused.

Damian wasn't entirely sure, maybe because like Starfire and Dick, or Stephanie and Drake,
there seemed to be something about...love...that made two people stick together, stay by ones
side no matter what.

Perhaps in less than savory cases like the Joker and Harley Quinn, love was not salvation or a
strengthening force, but a poison.

"People have long since stopped trying to figure her and Joker out. Those two lost their
minds years ago" Damian confessed instead.

They spent hours talking about the week to come, Brooklyn's first Thanksgiving, and the
current Red Room information Brooklyn was trying to get from SHIELD and the Black
Widow.

Though father was clearly trying to control Damian, trying to shape him a certain way, the
teen was just glad for these hours when he could just....be. Let father think whatever the
wanted about Brooklyn, let his family assume the worst, as Brooklyn chuckled over some
silly blaster competition with her own father, Damian knew that she was not the monster they
assumed her to be.

Right then and there, they were just Brooklyn and Damian.
Chapter End Notes

Hope everyone is excited about the big update. Sorry it took me forever to write and
edit! This is a big part of the story after all, so I hope you are excited for things to come!

Enjoy!
 Peculiar Thanksgiving
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Tony Stark POV-

This was Brook's first Thanksgiving, and it had to be absolutely perfect.

In fact, it would be so perfect, even Charlie Brown would be jealous!

After the party in Cali yesterday, Tony had spent the entire flight back home making sure all
would be ready at the compound for the celebration.

Peter had already made sure his aunt would come, and Tony got permission from Fury to let
Scott's and Clint's family to come this year. By request of Natasha and Brooklyn, he'd also
had to relent in inviting Yelena Belova to the event.

There was something terrifying about seeing all three Black Widows in one room sometimes,
but Tony knew by now that Yelena at least had some heart, she'd helped get rid of the bomb
at Midtown after all.

It came as quite the surprise when Fury mentioned he'd show up though. The eye patch
wonder usually kept to himself during the holidays, like he was a grumpy grinch allergic to
fun.

Despite that, Tony was adamant about making sure his new children would have the family
Thanksgiving he'd always wished to have as a kid.

When he was younger and his parents were still alive, Tony's parents often took him to lavish
celebrations, or went off on secret SHIELD business all together. The Stark couldn't count the
amount on holidays spent only in the company of Aunt Peggy or his nanny.

This would be different though, he would be a good father.

Despite the threats from alien weapons and a Pennywise reject, Tony made sure everyone had
the day off, that they could wake up early to watch the Thanksgiving parade on TV. Brooklyn
had admitted that morning the she'd never watched one, so as they all enjoyed Rogers'
pancakes as they watched the parade go by.

Every smile from both Brooklyn and Harley had been like a treasure worth more than any
amount of money in his bank account.

When Avengers themed float went about, they all chuckled, but it was once all the food was
finished, and all the family guests started arriving, that the fun really began.

Instead of watching a football game, they all went out to the large Avengers compound field
to play a few games of their own. Tony was surprised to see Brooklyn so relaxed, but even
more so when she didn't look like she'd wanted to kill anyone in the field.

Pepper had once been concerned that with the close call with Harley Quinn, that perhaps
Brooklyn's recently learned control would falter, but Tony knew better. He'd seen his kid use
all the restraint in the world to be in a romantic play with a Wayne, as far as Tony was
concerned, his daughter had gone through one of the hardest imaginable scenarios and though
it had likely been unbearable, she'd handled it like a pro.

That did not stop the three widows from teaming up under Natasha's instruction. Every time
they rushed at the other team like a ferocious pack, Vision was the only one who did not
cower.

Eight deflated footballs later, Tony's team had come out victorious. Though he'd bragged to
everyone that it had been his leadership that brought the win home, he knew it had been
Natasha's determination that had played a big part. But just as they'd promised to Pepper, no
enhanced abilities or technology were used. It had been a clean game with a clean victory.

Though usual Stark tradition for this holiday normally called for sitting by the bar and
drinking enough alcohol to pass out, Tony decided to scrap that self-made step that had only
come in once his family had died. Instead, since he was really short on acceptable traditions,
the billionaire turned to the other team members for advice.

Amidst the chaos of a turkey being stuffed by magic, Rhodey creating a military freeze-tag
game, and Pepper yelling at Tony to stop trying to pair the two kids (Brook and Peter) in the
same team every game, the Star Spangled Wonder managed to create a decent meal.

Tony couldn't help but smile when he went into the movie room to call over Clint's kids, the
three teens, and Cassie. Seeing his daughter smiling brightly, playing along with Lang's kid
with Parker by her side...it gave him a weird image of what a future of those two being
together would be like.

The Stark almost debated going up to Nat and complain about putting that idea in his head
since she was the one who spilled the secret of the little crush. Though Tony had been a teen
once, having plenty of 'crushes' of his own, there was something scary about his two children
having them.

Harley had explained the girl he'd asked to the dance was nice, the first person to treat him
with kindness on his first day of school. As for Parker, he was probably the most responsible
and selfless kid Tony had ever met, he should just be glad his daughter wasn't crushing on a
kid in a biker gang or worse...a Wayne.

Tony got cold chills from that thought alone. Gross.

Everyone present was currently helping in setting the large table with food, going back and
forth to the kitchen to gather plates and such. Wanda and Vision cheated of course, those two
using their abilities rather than their muscles like the rest. If only everyone had mysterious
magic thanks to troublesome space objects.
Tony was glad to see that Brooklyn was at least getting along better with Vision, that she was
starting to trust him more. She's claimed once that her childhood made her weary of
machines, that there was something about Vision that had made her uneasy, but that seemed
to be out the door as the two shared a conversation on the possible ways to uses of certain
computer programs on enhanced security.

He'd even heard Brook call Vision her brother once, albeit teasingly, but it still made Tony
pause.

Before the meal, Pepper wanted to have a family photo taken, not just one with everyone, but
also a Stark family photo. The first of those had just been Tony, Pepper, and their two kids,
neither of which complained about it. The second...the second had still just been the Starks,
but with a little bit of humor.

Someone, meaning Brook, thought it would be funny to take a photo with 'Grandpa' Steve
and her 'brother' Vision as well. Tony could've debated for hours that Steve was not family,
not when he had helped the man that had created the lack of Stark grandparents to begin
with...but he could not deny his daughter any amount of amusement, not when she was still
smiling.

So they took the damn photo and Tony internally promised to himself that perhaps he could
photoshop Steve out of it later.

It was once the meal was served, that everyone was settled and busy with conversation that
Tony stood up from his seat at the head of the table. As he raised his glass of champagne, the
crowd quieted.

"Today is not a typical Thanksgiving. Last year when this holiday came about, we were too
emotionally divided to have a meal together, Pepper and I were still on a break, my fault, and
for lack of a better term...I was alone" Tony said, looking to his daughter, Harley, and his
fiancee sitting around him, "I never thought I'd have a semblance of family until Pepper and I
got together, and then when the Avengers were formed that family grew. Yet, now I stand
here with all of you, with my future wife, and two kids a playboy billionaire from years ago
would've never even imagined having"

The crowd chuckled at that.

"That is why today, it feels like there truly is a lot to be thankful for. Even though we are in
the midst of battle, we are all together at last, the way I believe it was always meant to be. We
are a family, united and powerful as one, and we will fight for it as we always have, doing
whatever it takes for those we love"

The crowd raised their glasses and echoed back, "Whatever it takes"

With that, Tony sat back down, eager to eat, but Pepper reached out and took one of his hands
with a smile on her face, one that made him wonder if he'd told her just how beautiful she
looked tonight. Then he felt his other hand being taken by his daughter. Harley had a hand on
Brooklyn's shoulder but his eyes were on Tony, and Pepper held onto Vision's hand.
It was not the family he'd once been expecting, not it the most traditional sense, but the Stark
found that he very much liked it no matter what.

After a reassuring exchange of smiles, the whole table dug in. Though Tony hated to admit it,
the meal was actually really good. What Steve lacked in common sense he made up in
culinary knowledge.

******

It was around the time of dessert that everyone was buzzing around the kitchen. Rhodey had
the brilliant idea that as a Thanksgiving tradition, everyone should get the chance to decorate
the top of their cake slice.

It was now a disorganized chaos of sparkles, icing, and literally anything imaginable going
around the kitchen counter. Brooklyn and Peter were trying to decorate their own with some
sort of molecule they'd learned about it class, while Yelena, seated beside them, was trying to
create some sort of S rather secretively (Tony was pretty sure her name didn't even have an
s).

Tony was actually in the process of helping Harley and Cassie Lang finish their little
Avengers symbol when a light flashed in the window behind them. It was not like the flash of
a bomb or fired weapon, but everyone still paused as the ground shook.

Most who looked out into the rainbow of colors recognized such a phenomenon.

That is why Tony, along Natasha, Banner, and Steve went out into the living room as they
assured everyone to keep working and that everything was fine.

It had been years since they battled Ultron, what could possibly bring Thor here today?

It took a while, but eventually, a very startled and scared receptionist opened the door to the
Avengers floor with Thor in tow, dressed in his little Asgardian getup, carrying that
ridiculous hammer the god claimed only the worthy could lift. That was bullshit of course,
and one day Tony would figure out how to do it.

Thor towered over the startled woman, yet he smiled at the sight of old friends.

"Pointbreak! What brings you here to our humble little planet? Is it winter season in Asgard
and you've come for the beaches and margaritas?" Tony said, arms wide in welcome.

The god smirked, rushing forward to gather all four of them, and lifted them off the ground
into a bone crushing embrace. Tony never wanted to be that close to Steve again, and he
hoped the hand stuck to his rear was Banner's.

It wasn't until they were let down that the Stark realized the receptionist had not been
starstruck by Thor to be in such a state, it was the god by the door that had made her pause.

He still looked the same, hadn't aged a day.

Loki.
Tony often struggled with memories of the battle of New York, they kept him up at night, and
more often than not, that god was in them.

The god looked annoyed, not like the confident and power-hungry idiot from years ago. Still,
each of the Avengers went into a defensive stance, Tony seconds away from calling one of
his suits.

Thor must've noticed this change in emotions, because he made to stand between them, eyes
saddened and worried.

"My friends, worry not! Loki isn't here as anything more than a companion on a quest. You
see, we are looking for our father" Thor said, letting his hammer fall on the floor, arms
stretched out before them as if he would keep his friends away from charging at Loki.

"Your father the god? What is he doing here on Earth?" Banner asked incredulously, and
Tony couldn't help but smirk when Loki's eyes went wide with fear at the memory of
Banner's other self.

Thor sighed, stressed and annoyed as he spared a glare at his brother, "The nine realms went
into chaos recently, and while I was away trying to fix that, Loki banished our father to this
world and took his position" Thor said with a subtle clench of his teeth, "You see, we are here
to bring him back to Asgard at last"

"How is that even possible? Isn't Reindeer Games supposed to be in a cell? Did he put on a
wig or something?" Tony mocked, but despite his humor, he was getting ready to fight. His
family was in the kitchen after all, there was no way he'd let a threat slip through to them.

Loki walked up to them then, and after a bright flash of green magic, the god was gone,
replaced by a replica of Steve that was smirking back at them. So thats how he had done it,
Tony was suddenly glad such a power hadn't been used during the battle of New York, it
couldn't been problematic...

Thor nudged his brother's shoulder, and Steve turned back into the god they all knew and
hated.

The god explained, "Relax my friends, Loki and I have an understanding. Asgard is in
trouble, and we are working together to make sure father returns to it in mutual agreement"

"Besides" Loki said, voice smooth like a snake, "My interest ruling this planet is long gone"

Tony was about to call bullshit when the door to the kitchen opened behind them. Brooklyn
emerged from it, plate in hand, headed over to the living room table until she spotted them
all.

He was about to beg his daughter to get back until the possible threat was gone, but Brook
was already moving, leaving her plate on a nearby couch and wiping down the sprinkles in
her hands on the folds of her knee length silver dress without a care.
It was after the heavy stomps of heels stopped before the gods that Tony was about to drag
his daughter back to his side, but she seemed angry, not the killing angry he'd seen months
ago, but something closer to mild annoyance.

She beheld Thor first, dismissing his confusion with a roll of her eyes as she moved towards
Loki.

The god was smirking down at her, in the midst of saying something about questioning who
the little human was when Brooklyn moved her hand as if she would punch the god's
stomach. Loki's eyes lazily looked towards the direction of her punch, ready to stop it with
his own when Brooklyn's other hand swung back and slapped him across the cheek so loudly
that the sound resonated across the room.

Tony and Nat cursed, and Steve did not bother correcting them on the foul language for once.

"That was for New York you shit! But you're lucky that wasn't your fault...otherwise I'd kill
you for almost killing my dad!" Brooklyn said, panting slightly at the shocked god who
seemed like he couldn't quite believe he'd been slapped.

Normally, Tony would've been half-way through congratulating his daughter for that display,
but her words caught him off guard.

"What are you talking about?" Natasha asked on all of their behalves. Hell, even Thor looked
confused by the words, more so than the slap.

Brooklyn turned around towards them with a raised brow as she pushed back the strands of
hair on her face.

"What do you mean, don't you guys know? Isn't that why he's here and not locked up
somewhere right now?"

"Know what, human?" Thor asked.

Tony's daughter sent Loki one last glare before moving to sit on a nearby loveseat. None of
the adults took their eyes off of her as she motioned to the screens on the far side of the room.

"I was curious to see some footage about the battle of New York yesterday since I saw it was
an upcoming topic for history class, wondered what footage from SHIELD I hadn't seen. I
came across all the records from those days, saw Loki's was amongst them. As I watched
some of the footage from his first arrival on earth years ago from New Mexico, I noticed his
eyes were blue, but not the blue form the battle of New York, that shade was more like Uncle
Clint's when he'd been possessed by Loki's staff"

Tony had been too busy trying to stop the guy from destroying Earth to pay attention to
something as little as eye color, but he did not doubt his daughter on the claim, she and
Natasha were very good with details.

Brook turned to Loki, the anger in her eyes vanishing slightly as she told him, "I saw the
footage since you arrived for the battle of New York. You always seemed to minimize the
number of casualties everywhere you attacked prior to the last battle. Uncle Clint even
mentioned some of the things you had him do once, they were to act, not to kill. But he is an
assassin, so his way to act was to kill...you just didn't know that obviously"

The god looked uncomfortable know, as if he was being laid bare.

Tony had NEVER stoped to question Loki's actions as anything more than a god hungry for
power, as anything more than a bad guy. No one had.

"Your grand performance in Germany was unnecessary" Brooklyn continued, "like you were
waiting for the Avengers to come and stop you. Sure you did it to get on the helicarrier, but
you could've killed Grandpa Steve multiple times during your fight, four to be exact, gotten
rid of the threat to your plan in public and still made it to your final destination"

Steve settled down on a nearby chair then, memories flooding his mind as the captain seemed
to realize that was true. He'd said to Tony then, once they were back in the helicarrier, that it
had been too easy a win. They'd just never considered Loki was pulling his punches.

Looking slightly more angered, Tony's daughter turned back to Loki and added, "You
could've killed my dad too, but you just scared him when he made it to the Stark tower, tried
to control him to fight the other Avengers instead. I heard the room recording, you
specifically said fight, not kill. You could've killed Thor up there too, but you merely stabbed
him when it is clear you are much more skilled that that, it wasn't even a mortal wound that
would kept him out of the fight, it was carefully placed"

"Didn't Loki throw him off the helicarrier though?" Banner asked, clutching his glasses in
hand, looking uncomfortably around the room.

Brook chuckled, "Yeah I saw that on the records, but according to SHIELD files, that drop
wouldn't have killed a god. And the stab Loki have Uncle Coulson was not deadly either,
Fury only pretended it was. It was nowhere near a major artery, I checked. Precise enough
only to get him out of the way so Loki could escape"

The black haired god sighed, settling down on the seat beside Brooklyn, which almost had
Tony rushing forward in defense, but Natasha held him back, looking at the teen and god
curiously.

"This is mere recordings you witnessed human" Loki said, "You were not there, you could be
wrong"

"I actually WAS there during the battle of New York" she stated, something that sunk Tony's
heart every time he recalled that little fact, "I saw the chitauri mainly targeting cars and
machinery unless they were being engaged or a human ran their way. Why shoot vehicles
when you could've killed more people?"

"Perhaps I did not care for carnage" Loki argued, running a hand through his long greasy
looking hair, "Perhaps I wished for a world to rule that had humans in it as my servants"
Tony was literally seconds away from attacking at this point, but his daughter's words halted
him.

"You WERE the leader of the army sure, but I began to wonder if you were the leader of the
mission. There are helicarrier clips of your brother mentioning you gained the army in
exchange for the tesseract, meaning you were not the mastermind at all. Made me think of
something else Uncle Clint mentioned during his debriefing after the battle, something about
you looking sicklily and pale when you two first met. He said you sometimes spoke to
yourself as if in a conversation with someone, that though he wasn't sure, you looked afraid"

The god went still.

"When you first appeared on that portal, you could barely walk, looking exhausted in those
lab feeds as if you'd been tortured" Brooklyn said, looking pensive as she added, "You got
your ass beat by others later in the battle and never did you look as bad as then. So you see, I
know your skill set could've caused more deaths, a greater victory, but you did not use it.
Your eyes are no longer that intense and unnatural blue either...so as much as I'd love to hate
you and blame you, I have to think you were as helpless as the rest of us. That someone used
that staff of yours and you were just trying to be stopped"

Holy shit...

Was that even possible? Tony turned to Natasha, the best judge of character in this room. She
was clutching the skirts of her black dress, eyeing Loki with no anger now, just confusion.

Meaning...Brooklyn was right.

"How are you so certain of that, little human?" Loki asked, still seemingly nervous.

Brooklyn's next words broke Tony's heart once more.

"I was controlled by people once," she admitted, "a puppet to a grand scheme. I know what
its like, and what it looks like to be tortured"

Natasha knew it too, thats why she saw the truth as well.

The god rolled his eyes, "Then why did you hit me?"

At that Brooklyn stood, moving to stand by Tony's side with a shrug.

"Because you still almost got my family killed, my dad had to sacrifice himself for SHIELD's
stupidity as a result. I protect my family, whatever it takes, that also means avenging them"
she said.

Tony couldn't help but bring her to his side, slightly annoyed that perhaps all that was said
was true, and though Loki was still an asshole, maybe he wasn't a complete nut job.

"Who is this intelligent child? She must've been a small thing if her claims of fighting in the
battle are true" Thor asked the group, looking more tired that he was when he entered the
compound.
"She's my daughter, and she did fight back then" Tony said simply, smiling down at his
daughter's smug face.

Thor looked like he wanted to ask more on the matter, but instead turned to his brother,
asking why he'd never confessed to such a thing, why he'd let himself take all the blame.

"Would father have believed me? Would it have changed anything? I still wanted to rule, it
just wasn't on my terms" Loki said, solidifying at last the theory no one bothered to see but
his daughter, the girl who had once thought herself a villain too.

It still did not make Tony happy to have Loki here, much less when Steve invited them both
for dessert as a way to make amends for not noticing a wrong.

Clint was very VERY angry.

It took quite some time, but Brooklyn explained to the table what she'd figured out,
something she had assumed everyone knew. By the end of it, everyone was startled to say the
least, and though they weren't ready to forgive Loki, they were at least civil for the rest of the
meal.

It was after the meal that they all gathered for their planned movie night, but it ended up
turning into another hammer lifting competition. No one had been able to lift it so far, no
matter how hard Tony tried.

Stupid magical hammer....

Brooklyn had refused to try the same way Natasha and Yelena had, as if they already knew
the outcome and did not wish to see it.

Peter was the most innocent and kind of them all (alongside Harley, Cassie, and Clint's kids),
yet, Peter refused to do it as well, fearing his super-strength could be considered cheating no
matter how long Tony tried to convince him to try.

It was during Sam's attempt, trying to use his wings to get airborne, that Tony heard Loki
saying to his daughter, "You an observant mortal, Daughter of Stark"

Brooklyn shrugged, and after a sip of soda, she replied, "It wasn't that hard to accept my
theory actually. The day of the battle, you flew by me, had a clear shot to kill me but you
didn't take it. But would you want the Avengers to tell the world the truth, to clear your
name?"

Tony tried to look very interested in the display before him, but he still kept an ear out behind
him as Loki replied, "No one would believe it, humans hold too many grudges. Besides,
sometimes it's best to be the enemy rather than the victim. Something I suspect you know of,
you have suffered...I can tell"

Tony clutched Pepper's hand, one look shared between them and he knew she was listening
intently too, as was Natasha beside him on the floor.
"I have" Brook admitted, "but I have a family now, it makes it easier to dare to be something
more than a girl who once did bad things. They help me hope I can be a hero someday. But
just so you know, I'm a trained spy and assassin, you try to fight my family again and I'll have
no choice but to kill you"

Tony smiled at that, matching Pepper's amused smirk especially as the god nodded in
understanding.

Was it possible to have a prouder moment in life that to have your daughter punch AND
threaten the god of mischief and possibly reindeers?

Absolutely not.

********

By midnight, Natasha and Clint had found the elderly home Loki had described to them and
wrote down an address.

Both gods were encouraged to change into human clothes so they wouldn't stand out too
much and cause a riot, many people hated Loki after all. Though no one had been thrilled to
spend more time with Loki, they still offend to take them there, but Thor mentioned he did
not want a crowd to greet his father with, especially when the magic was lifted from his
mind.

Because neither god knew how to go around a city, Bruce had been chosen to accompany
them. Not just because he was the least likely to attack Loki with that passiveness of his, but
because if Loki did get out of hand, he was perhaps the only one aside from Thor who could
stop him.

It had been hilarious to see poor Banner leave with two gods almost a chest taller than him,
even more so when they got into a mundane van and left. Thor had become slightly
accustomed to human transportation during his visits to Earth, but Reindeer games seemed
about as comfortable with it as walking on hot coals.

Tony enjoyed every second of it.

Now glad that Brooklyn's first Thanksgiving had not been ruined by a fight with a god, he got
back into the holiday spirit with everyone else. They had a few rounds of karaoke, which
Rhodey managed to win each and every time. Tony suspected foul play from the game.

Brook, Rhodey, Sam, and Tony even managed to get permission to have a little flight contest.

It was cold and dark outside, but Pepper gave the green light, likely thanks to her current
pride in Brooklyn. Wanda and Vision were exempt from said competition since they'd likely
win, which was probably a good thing anyways because Wanda was talked into creating a
racing track in the sky with her magic so they could actually see better.

Because each suit was modified in some way by the owner, of in Rhodey's case by the
government, the flight would be a very interesting race and test of intelligence.
Despite everyone's best attempts though, Tony still managed to secure a win, by Steve's timer
of 4 seconds ahead of everyone else. He was still beyond proud for his daughter getting
second place, even when Sam complained alien tech was cheating.

Such a beautiful win was only followed by another once Just Dance was brought out, Tony
and Nat had always, and would always, be an unstoppable team there.

After Scott, Brook, and Peter helped put all the younglings to sleep, which Tony was still
shocked Brook knew how to do and was actually willing to help in doing, everyone was able
to pull out the alcohol and settle down on the living room discussing the scam that was Thor's
magical hammer.

When Tony went to the kitchen to get a refill bottle for everyone, he found Brook and Peter
were already there, alone. Since they were not allowed to drink alcohol (even through his
daughter was far from a lightweight and Peter couldn't get drunk) the two were in the process
of making some coffee.

Tony knew it was wrong, but he asked FRIDAY to pull out the feed from the kitchen and put
it on the big screen in the living room. Everyone was surprised when Tony came rushing back
without alcohol in hand, but once the Transformers movie was replaced with the cameras of
the kitchen, he received three pillows to the face from Pepper, Nat, and Clint.

Yeah yeah, breach of privacy, but this was their chance to see if there truly was something
between those two!

Before his son could complain, Tony placed a hand atop his mouth, leaning forward excitedly
to listen to the gossip. It seemed that despite prior complaints, everyone was doing the same
now, even the very righteous Steven Rogers and the grumpy Fury who looked to still be
fighting the urge to kill Loki.

The screen displayed Brooklyn leaning on the counter, heels off as she tended to the coffee
machine. Peter was by her side , staring up at the ceiling in disbelief.

"I can't believe I just met two gods" Brooklyn said, looking almost dazed, "Actual gods of
legend"

Peter leaned back to rest his head on the marble counter, whispering a faint awed, "Yeah..."

Brook then added, "I actually punched a god..."

Sam and Clint whooped in joy at that, but Tony was too invested to join them at the moment.
One wrong move from Peter, and he'd go in there and fly the teen all the way to Italy.

"This is why you're the coolest out of all of us. I would've never dared to do that to Mr. Loki"
Parker said, moving to sit on the table behind him, staring down at Brooklyn with a smile that
sent both teens into a fit of laughter that a Tony from months ago would've through
impossible.
Seeing those two joking around over the weirdest things, seeing his daughter basking in joy,
it made Tony wish he'd found her sooner, that he could have baby and toddler photos with her
on the fridge. He'd missed so many firsts, Tony supposed he should be grateful he was at
least able to witness her first crush.

On the screen, Brooklyn added the coffee grounds expertly into the machine, adding
measurements as if from memory.

The Stark was remained of the time months ago when Peter had come to him with nothing
more than a story of a girl who'd managed to beat up three grown men all on her own. The
kid had only given Tony a school name, and the location of the coffee shop the young girl
worked at.

If weird things had not occurred all throughout Tony's life, he might've thought the odds of
meeting Brooklyn back then almost impossible.

But she was safe now.

That did not mean things were easy, that he wouldn't have to witness his poor child suffer,
just like she likely was right now as Peter hesitantly said, "I'm a little nervous about the dance
actually, I wish I had some of you bravery to get me through it"

Brook's grin faded slowly, but rather than looking pained, she merely seemed confused.

"You're a superhero Pete, you laugh at the face of danger everyday. What could you possibly
have to fear from a simple school dance?" she asked.

The boy groaned in exasperation, staring up at the kitchen light as if it might hold the
answers he yearned for.

"What if MJ doesn't like the way I dance? What if I run out of things to talk about? What if
there is a robbery or a crime during the dance and I have to leave her with no explanation and
then she'll hate me forever? What if...what if she tries to kiss me?"

Sam threw popcorn at the TV, booing at it like a child. Tony was almost ashamed that he
wanted to do the same thing. From his place with an arm around Natasha, Steve chastised his
friend, but even he could be labeled as extremely concerned for Brook's feelings.

Though Tony had never suffered from unrequited love, because everyone was always drawn
to him of course, he HAD felt the pain of breaking up with Pepper, the love of his life.

"If there is a threat out, then I'll go take care of it, might be easier for me to do so since I have
no date. As for the kiss, wouldn't you just...kiss her back?" Brooklyn said, looking slightly
uncomfortable, but his HD cameras had yet to show any tears.

Peter's face scrunched up into confusion.

"Why her back?"

 Suddenly, everyone in the room agreed this was just too painful to watch, and that Peter was
so clueless that he may very well not be allowed to kiss someone, like, ever. Tony felt
responsible for Peter in many ways, like an apprentice, or a son, but this was just sad.

Tony cut off the camera feed on the TV and had to rub his temples through the sounds of
chuckling from Sam and Scott, who had no qualms in enjoying this tragedy.

Maybe Brooklyn would move on from this little crush one day...hopefully.

When the kids came back, the adults present tried extremely hard not to laugh. It was harder
than one might think, but as the time went by and the two fell asleep by Tony's side, he was
just glad their peaceful faces meant he must've done something right today.

No one had the energy to leave the couches or their places on the floor, so they all ended up
huddled together with various blankets and an intertwined mess on limbs that must've been
quite amusing for Clint's kids and Scott's daughter when they woke them up the next
morning.

As soon as Tony caught sight of the morning light, he breathed out a sigh of relief.

Family holidays: 1

Trauma of the past and current dangers: 0

Chapter End Notes

Just in case anyone is curious, this little visit from Thor and Loki was the beginning of
the Thor Ragnarok movie, which will continue its course of events undisturbed, only
when Thor and Loki left though the bifrost bridge, Bruce Banner fell through along the
way before the two gods, arriving to the planet Sakaar before them the way Loki arrived
before his brother.

The events of the film will be undisturbed from there.

It breaks my heart to say goodbye to Banner for now, but we'll see our favorite doctor
soon enough.
 Black Widow Ops Program

Brooklyn POV-

After the chaos of last night, everyone was sleeping it off.

Not Brooklyn. She was in the lounging room watching TV with her brother, who had come
into her room requesting some time alone with her.

Remembering the advice on the 'How to Sibling' books, Brooklyn allowed herself to join him
for a movie at six in the morning, wondering how on Earth Harley could be awake before the
sun was.

He was seated beside her, a bowl of cereal in hand, golden brown hair sticking every which
way.

She'd been holding off on asking what had brought his invitation on, wondering if this was
just his way of bonding with her. Just as they were halfway through the cartoon movie Brook
had only been slightly paying attention to, he asked a dreaded question she should've seen
coming.

He knew she'd been captured days ago, Harley had sworn to keep quiet about it, but she knew
that with those events and whatever he might've heard around the compound, or on that day
Brooklyn had been interrogating Yelena, he'd be curious as to why.

"Why did bad people take you away? Why was everyone so scared?" he asked quietly, setting
down his spoon, locking those concerned blue eyes onto her own.

Though Tony and the others had been quite accepting of her past by now, some part of her
was still afraid of what he might think. Before his family had died and he'd been brought
here, Harley had been a fairly normal boy that likely did not know much of the horrors of the
world.

Brooklyn had been hoping to keep him that way, oblivious to the bad of the world and her
own past so he could continue living relatively carefree. But the books she'd read were very
specific that trust between siblings was important, so she had no choice but to honor that
wisdom.

Leaning back on the leather recliner, Brooklyn stared down at her pajama pants, unable to
look Harley in the eye as she mentioned her upbringing, the reason why she was able to train
to be an Avenger, something he'd always been curious about.

Brook still left the less that pleasant details of her time as a widow to a minimum, merely
saying it had been a place that made her strong, not just Brooklyn, but Yelena and Natasha as
well.
She'd explained her time after the escape, how she'd been an orphan, then ran away to be
alone, always in hiding in fear of the remnants of the Red Room finding her. Brook had made
sure to wipe his horrified tears then, following the awfulness of the past by talking about dad
finding her, the good that came after that with the introduction of their family and friends.

Harley seemed to calm down then, but he kept hand on her own, letting the movie become
nothing but noise to them.

"Because being a Stark made me so famous, the Red Room found me, and they wanted me
back so I could fulfill who I was meant to be...their future leader" she whispered, trying not
to flinch at the thought of what might've been had her team not found her, had Brook been
handed over to Ivan.

"They were gonna take you away from us?" Harley asked past the lump in his throat.

She nodded.

"But I was rescued, and now I'm even more alert to make sure something like that doesn't
happen again. You have nothing to worry about" Brook clarified, trying to sound more
confident that she felt.

"Was it your mom that wanted you back?"

Brooklyn chuckled, wondering for once if the woman's dead corpse was still rotting back in
the abandoned Red Room base in Moscow.

"My mom was not like Pepper is to us now, she was full of darkness and a desire to prove
herself to our leader through me. She died long ago Harley, and even when death usually
tends to be bad, this death was for the best"

The teen seemed confused for a second, but nodded as if he trusted her judgment.

"So it was your old leader that wanted you back, but Peter and the others rescued you?"

Brooklyn nodded, unable to voice just how grateful she was for that, how she was even more
so towards Damian for staying with her afterwards during the weekend.

"I'm not an assassin or spy anymore, think of that like a past life" she clarified nervously, "I
don't want you to be afraid of me or think I might be bad. I've been working hard to be a
good person, to be the Stark the world needs, not the killer those people want me to be"

Harley smiled softly, hand pressed firmer onto her own.

"I don't think you're bad. Dad told me he'd once done some bad things, that he was making
weapons and bad people were getting their hands on them. But he chose to stop too, he
became a hero. You're tying to be a hero too, so you can't be a bad person" Harley said with
enough conviction that Brooklyn had to fight the relief in her mind at the words.

Her brother truly was the angel of the family, not just because he basically forgave who she
used to be and just saw her as his sister, but because he understood that she was trying to be a
good person, to atone for all the bad.

Still, she forced herself to ask, "You really don't mind that your sister is a past assassin?"

Harley smiled then, the last tears in his eyes cascading down his pale cheeks, carrying the last
of the sadness with them.

"Our family consists of other assassins like Aunt Natasha, Clint, and Yelena. Gods, a super
soldier, and a guy who turns into a buff green version of himself. Wanda has magic and
Vision is a machine. Our family is already crazy, but I love it, all of it" Harley replied.

Though she often kept hugs to her parents and Damian, sometimes ever her friends, Brooklyn
pulled Harley close into an embrace, and the two stayed like that as they turned back to the
TV.

After some time Harley pondered, "You know when you were taken, I was terrified that you
were dead. All we could see was that you were underwater, and I couldn't help but think
about the day I found out my sister died in that car crash. I was trying to remember the last
thing I'd said to you"

Brooklyn went stiff.

Mom and Dad had never mentioned Harley having a sister once, they'd only said Harley had
lost the last family he'd had when his mom died. Brooklyn had no clue she'd been
unknowingly trying to replace the role of someone he'd once had in his life.

"I'm sorry" Brook said, it was all she could think of to say, not just for the death of his
sibling, but for making him relieve that with her own capture.

"It's ok" Harley assured, hugging her tighter, "Everyone was sad when we thought you were
dead, even the Wayne dad doesn't like. He was here you know, I'm not sure why, but he got
really mad, I could see how sad he was when he stared at the screen. It was like he cared
about you, but he still looked really scary"

He had?

Jon had once mentioned that Damian had to be restrained from hurting Yelena and Peter
during that time. She didn't blame him for it, when Brook thought he'd been dead, she'd
attacked Harley Quinn with all her might.

But he'd been here at the compound, had come all the way to his enemies' stronghold just for
her.

"I...I owed Damian Wayne a homework assignment. He must've been upset about that"
Brooklyn lied, unable to admit even to her trusty brother that she had a friend she was not
supposed to.

The less secrets he had to live with, the better.

"He's really scary at school too, but Peter promised to protect me" Harley said proudly.
Her bother idolized Spider-man (as evidence by his pjs of the hero), but he also cared deeply
for Peter, often asking him for homework help, and since the two were part of the school
band, Brook knew she could trust him to care for Harley.

Still, perhaps one day, Harley would be able to see that Damian Wayne was not as awful as
dad described, not a threat. Maybe he could be the second Stark in history to stand being
around one one day.

"Just...don't leave me like that again" Harley said, softer this time, like a plea or a prayer.

There were no guarantees she could keep such promise, not with Ivan out in the world. Yet,
she found herself wanting to at least try, to keep that hope and bright smile on Harley's face
for as long as possible.

"I'm not going anywhere"

A chuckle came from the door, one she recognized from her dad. He had just arrived with
Grandpa Steve, dad still in his pjs, and like the old man he was, Steve was already dressed for
his morning run.

Dad seemed glad at the sight of both young Starks being up early, spending time with one
another in an embrace.

At least they'd only heard that last sentence...

"I don't know about not going anywhere. You just got a very special invitation that even I'm
jealous of" dad said, waving a black envelope in hand.

Dad sat down beside Brooklyn, stretching an arm to ruffle Harley's hair as Steve sat beside
her brother. Tony handed over the already opened envelope with her name on it.

To Brooklyn Rosa Stark

Curious, she opened the letter expecting this to be something about another gala or event
from a high name brand, maybe even a charity. Instead, she found a letter from the King of
Wakanda himself.

Brook had seen him once, during Family Day. He'd been a very handsome man, with kind
features and an impeccable sense of style. Brooklyn also recalled the flamboyant sister, the
princess of Wakanda. Upon first glance, they seemed quite agreeable, even more so when dad
had treated them as old friends.

Some of the vibranium they had given dad had saved Damian's life, so as far as Brook was
concerned, even thought they hadn't exactly saved her friend's life on purpose, she would do
them any favors they might ask.

But this was not a call for a favor.

It was an invitation for a week-long event soon after the Yule dance.
"Its the first event they'll be hosting in Wakanda with guests, a type of learning field trip to
establish connections for trade with them. You'd be going to represent Stark Industries, learn
their terms and ways of living. Though they might start doing this more often, this seems like
a once in a lifetime thing" dad said excitedly.

From what Brook understood, the country had only decided to interact with the world after
the death of their previous monarch, after the civil war between Brook's family. Though King
T'Challa had been very involved in aid for poor African American communities here, as well
as establishing schools for those communities, no one was allowed in Wakanda without
permission.

It was rumored to be guarded by an invisible forcefield of sorts, hidden from satellites and
radar, they were also rumored to be more technologically advanced than any other country.
Meaning, no one had a chance to get in without the King knowing.

In truth, Brooklyn was excited by the idea, not just because it would be like doing an
important job for the company, but because she'd get to explore somewhere unknown.

At the same time, she was worried about leaving. New places were still weary in her mind,
but more than that, there was much about the alien weapons and the Joker still left unsolved,
not to mention Ivan.

Would this be like running away?

No wonder dad was so excited, this was likely his version of sending Brooklyn away from
danger to the arguably safest place in the world right now.

"You wouldn't be going alone of course" Tony said, pointing at the letter, "Most of the kids of
large companies are going, to establish ties with the heirs and heiresses that can change the
world"

With a smirk, Brook asked, "Does that mean I'll be stuck with Lex Jr. asking me out every
second?"

Tony actually chuckled at that, bright smirk on his face as he proudly stated, "I checked, he
was not invited. Looks like Lex didn't make a notable impression during Family day.
Unfortunately for you, the Wayne is going, so I understand completely if you want to sit this
one out"

Damian was invited!? They'd get to go to a mysterious country together, fulfill their duties of
the future without their families' prying eyes...now that sounded appealing.

"I'm not letting a Wayne get in the way of my duty as a Stark. I'll go"

Tony frowned, but shrugged as if knowing this was too good an opportunity to miss. He'd
likely dare to share a meal with a Wayne if it meant seeing the technology of Wakanda for
himself.
"Lucky for you, you're allowed a guest, but it has to be someone around you age which is
bullshit in my opinion" dad said, sending both her and Harley into a fit of giggles.

"First of all, language" Steve said, then turned to Brook with a smile, "I'll be going as well,
though I won't be able to hang around you much after we arrive. I have some business to take
care of there"

Steve of all people?

Brooklyn as certain she'd seen her grandfather get in a fight with the Black Panther of
Wakanda out in the streets on TV once. Then again, he was America's golden boy, of course
he'd be invited.

But dad was frowning at the words, mumbling to himself, "Of course you do"

Before she could question any of that, Sam came in mentioning everyone was waiting for
breakfast, which was their cue to leave. It was during the delicious meal with her family that
Brooklyn texted Damian under their secret chat to see if he did get an invitation, but more
importantly, if he would accept it.

Even Damian agreed it was an important event, and since they were both still 'banned' from
helping with the Joker and the weapons, he saw no harm in going to actually do something of
use for the company at least...plus Damian was apparently in a fight with his dad anyways, so
it all worked out.

One quick text to Harry and she found out he would be going as well.

Now all left to decide for Brooklyn was...who to take as her companion....

*******

Natasha POV-

It was mid-afternoon by the time the three widows finished some intense training, which she
couldn't help but be proud of.

Brooklyn and Yelena had shown very good progress today, had increased immensely in their
ability to work as a team with one another, it was almost surreal. Things like that did not just
happen out of nowhere, but Nat was willing to overlook it if only because it was more than
acceptable progress.

After training, the three had done a little ballet to calm the nerves and stress. This time
though, they'd foregone doing a choreography from the Red Room and instead spent a few
hours making a dance of their own.

It ended up being quite strong with a little sentiment and gentleness at the end. It was like the
progress of their lives, staring off as assassins and shifting into something better down the
line.
Because they all still had some habits from the Red Room in their minds, they worked hard to
make sure it was all done to perfection, only resting once they were all satisfied.

Now they sat on the polished wooden floors of what they had come to know as their ballet
room.

They'd been in here quite a lot now, and the room now bore signs of them. Brooklyn had
quite a few polaroids of the three widows taped to the large mirror that took up the whole left
wall, mostly of them dancing or some she managed to sneak through of the girls lounging.

The snack bar behind them had all their favorite post work out snacks, and even some worn
flats from all their dancing.

In an effort to make it seem different than the Red Room, the three had allowed Steve to paint
in here once. He was truly talented in that front. The right wall had many cabinets with food
and medical supplies, but the walls that had once been bare now held painted fields with
snow and three swans of black and red flapping their wings, flying freely to the sunset sky.

That wasn't all they had changed.

Per Yelena's request, they had all traded their flowing pink skirts for black ones, and their
tops had been changed to red. Even though they despised the Red Room, the three knew they
were still Black Widows, but now they used that as a term of unity between them.

Natasha was fine with that, if fact, she quite liked the new outfits. She never was one for
pastel pinks. Neither Brook or Natasha had changed their ballet flats through, they were too
special and memorable even if they were worn and begging to threaten to come apart in some
places.

Perhaps that wouldn't be the only thing broken by the end of the day.

In light of a recent school dance which Yelena had agreed to go to with an actual guy,
Brooklyn and Natasha had found it somewhat fitting to embarrass their sestra a little bit.
After all, the blonde knew of Nat's affection towards Steve and Brook's towards Peter, it was
only fair they teased her about this so called Jon, the half-kryptoniain Brooklyn spoke of
fondly enough that Nat relaxed.

Though Natasha herself had NEVER gone to a school dance, she'd been in enough
undercover clubs and elegant events to know dancing would be a big part of the night. So, the
two teased Yelena about practicing her steps so she could make a big impression on this guy
who she swore she barely tolerated.

By the glint in Brooklyn's smiling eyes, Nat knew there was something more than just
tolerance.

"I'm not dancing with him" Yelena said, crossing her arms before her chest as she sat on the
floor below them.
"But it's a dance, that kinda seems like the whole point of going!" Brooklyn argued, braiding
back her red hair comfortably.

Unable to argue with that, Yelena did not fight as Nat pulled the blonde up, guiding her to
practice simple swaying expected of teenage dances while Brook smirked up at them.

Natasha could've even sworn the girl was laughing at times.

It was a shame Brook wouldn't be going with Peter, otherwise the heat would be on her. Nat
couldn't decide if she wanted to kill Parker for that or not, but Brook seemed happy
regardless of her lack of partner, not upset and angry as the woman had expected.

"So tell me about this Jon Kent" Nat said, not faltering in her steps as she stared down at
Yelena, "What is the boy like?"

Yelena huffed Russian curses under her breath, but after a few seconds, she relented.

"He's odd" Yelena admitted, "Always smiling, saying nice things and actually meaning them.
Its no wonder our classmates like him so much"

Question was, would Yelena finally be opening up to liking someone of her own, perhaps this
so called Jon?

"And to you, how is he to you?" Nat asked, watching Brooklyn smirking in the sidelines.

"He's very...understanding. He doesn't mind what I was or that I tried to take Brooklyn away
once. I can't decide if he's stupid and naive for trusting someone like me so quickly, or if
there is something he's actually seeing"

Nat never though she'd be leaning about Superman's son, much less that one of the only
accepted aliens in the world would have one to begin with. That kid had to be powerful, or
would at least grow to be so in time. She'd seen him flying once when he visited the
compound, had witnessed enough records on Superman's abilities to know that kid had the
potential to become a hero one day....or an unstoppable villain.

"He wouldn't have asked you to the dance if he didn't see something good in you" Brook
pipped in from her place laying on the floor, "Jon genuinely believes in you, he's your friend
whether you admit it or not"

Yelena whispered the foreign word, mouthing 'friend' to herself a few times before she
seemed to accept it.

Nat knew how hard it was to accept that there were people in the world that did not want to
hurt you, that relationships and family were something that was possible. If Yelena had found
a friend in Jon Kent, then Natasha was more than happy for it.

She was happy that they were both making friends, living the life Natasha never got to
experience until much later in time. Ivan had done a lot of damage to all of them, but they
were slowly healing from that..slowly becoming something better that what they were meant
to be, pushing back where they came from.
The Black Widow Ops Program was one of the Department X's espionage training programs.
It had been a Cold War program to train the deadliest female spy in the world, or so history
said.

Aside from becoming immersed in all kinds of skills like combined arms, tactical, close-
quarters combat, naval aviation, navigation, military engineering, artillery (you know, the
basics), the Red Room had always aspired to go above and beyond to be come the deadliest.

In some ways, it was still affecting Nat to this day like a pesky shadow.

Not only was her past stained with blood, full of lives she needed to make up for, but the Red
Room had done further damage than the brainwashing and the killing, they had taken things.

Professor Grigor Pchelintsov, a leader in the field of psychotechnics, imprinted the orphaned
girls with almost completely fabricated memories, Natasha being among them. She could not
remember her home before the Red Room, the faces of her birth family. She only knew her
name.

That was all she had been.

As if reading her mind, Yelena nervously asked, "Sestra, there was a rumor that you were a
descendant of the last Czar of Russia, that you are one of the last living members of the
Romanov family. Is that true?"

Though Natasha did not remember cloudy faces of the past, she knew facts damn well. Ivan
had always told her she had a past of royalty, a crown stolen and claimed by mere men before
her birth.

"Perhaps" Natasha said honestly, "But I've never cared to find out. Ivan likely wanted the
fame and gold that would come with that if it was ever revealed"

"But you could be our long lost printsessa" Brooklyn muttered, staring up at Nat.

"The nobility was overthrown for a reason, Brook. I'm not a princess, I'm just an Avenger
now, an ex-assassin and a criminal" she said, tapping the tracker on her ankle with her ballet
shoe.

"I guess the only printsessa amongst us now is Brooklyn" Yelena teased, "The princess of
New York, the darling of the world, and the printsessa of the Red Room"

Nat watched as Brooklyn flinched at the comment.

She realized that perhaps the two young girls before her rarely had time to speak of the
horrors they'd all seen and done. Nat had Clint and Steve to talk to, they knew some of her
past, and that somehow made it less troublesome in her mind.

Perhaps Natasha should do the same for these two, let them talk it out, share their war stories
together for a day.
Moving away from Yelena, the widow went to get each girl a shot glass and some Vodka she
kept hidden in the room. Nat knew both girls could hold their liquor, there wasn't a widow
out there that couldn't.

The three were born Russian, and though they wouldn't get drunk on the vodka, it could
perhaps help with familiarity, to recall the Red Room easier. Hopefully, righteous Steve or the
overprotective Tony wouldn't catch them.

Neither teen complained as Nat served them a shot each, the three sitting in a circle in the
middle of the room. The widows raised their shots in the air, the two teens seemingly
knowing that a hard conversation was coming on.

Though Black Widows tried to never look back, though they were made to hide the past an
burry it, Natasha knew she had to do this. After a deep breath and a sip from her drink, she
admitted, "Do you guys remember the evaluations, the killing? I never told anyone, but I used
to feel guilty for it"

"You?" Yelena asked, eyes wide, "But you were said to be one of the best widows to ever
exist!?"

"I was very good, but the older I got, the less I liked it. During my graduation ceremony, I
actually tried to fail on purpose but was caught. I knew I had no choice but to succeed, so I
did but I carried that guilt deep within me always" Nat admitted, taking another sip of the
burning liquid.

Brooklyn sighed beside Nat, hand on her temple as she took another sip.

"I felt guilty too, thought it made me weak. Sometimes I was afraid my mother could sense it,
that she knew I felt emotions and would punish me for it. There were days I wanted her to get
rid of my emotions, to have one of the scientists somehow make the guilt disappear"

Ah yes, Brooklyn's mother.

90170. Nat didn't need to look at a file to know that was Brooklyn's mom. They looked very
alike, especially now that the Stark had grown. Only the eyes were different, ones green, the
others a familiar brown like Tony's.

Brooklyn's mom had been about ten years older than Nat, by the time she was on her last
years of graduating, 90170 was becoming an instructor, and a ruthless one at that. The red
haired woman had been proud to stand by Ivan's side, relished in being know for her harsh
punishments even when she was nowhere near as skilled as Natasha.

Her favor from Ivan came in 90170 willingness to do whatever it took to make Ivan proud,
that much Nat recalled. The day of her graduation trials, Natasha served punishment under
Brook's mom for trying to fake a loss. It had been some of the worst pain Nat had felt in a
while, that is why she had been pleased to kill the retched being the day Brook left the Red
Room.
The scars Nat had seen on Brooklyn's back were proof enough that the woman had not
stopped being ruthless since Nat left, that she had not shown favoritism or mercy, even to her
own daughter.

"Your mother was a piece of work" Nat admitted to Brooklyn, taking another shot.

Yelena raised a brow, "Mother? I thought Pepper was her mother, that Brooklyn had been
captured as a baby"

Brooklyn chuckled darkly, taking the rest of her drink in one impressive swing before
reaching for the bottle for some more.

"90170 was my birth mother, Nat and I killed her when I made my escape" Brooklyn
admitted.

Nat saw Yelena's face turn into disgust at the memory of the woman.

"She was the one who commanded you to kill me the day you spared me" Yelena said, also
taking a long swing of her drink, "That suka always gave the worst punishments. It's a
miracle you turned out so noble Brooklyn. Though I will say, Ivan did seem really mad when
he found out she'd died, I don't think I'd ever been so happy to train without her around after
that"

Suka. Bitch indeed.

"Yeah she was harsh, but I have never felt worst pain than the yearly health shots paired with
the torture practice" Brooklyn mused.

Nat didn't recall that at all....

She remembered being tortured of course, practice should the scenario of being captured ever
happened in real life so that no widow would crack under pressure, but she'd never been
given shots for her health.

If you died, you died.

"You're lucky Ivan cared about his heiress enough to make a small effort to keep you alive"
Yelena said to Brook, "The amount of deaths from hypothermia or a common cold were a
ridiculous threat"

Of course, Nat often forgot that Brooklyn's role had once been bigger than anything she'd
ever been offered. Natasha had not been set to become the inheritor of the Red Room, she
was not prized enough to be anything more than a top solider, perhaps Ivan's right hand.

The thought made the woman worry what other thinks Brook had been subjected to that she
or Yelena had not suffered.

Further talk revealed that Brooklyn had indeed suffered worst punishments, ones that would
never heal like the scars on her back. She'd been groomed to be the best, to be the best heir
possible, unwavering and stronger than everyone.
There were certain training exercises Nat had never been exposed to in her youth, ones
Yelena and Brook recalled with bitter familiarity. There were some things that were just so
awful, torture methods they'd had to learn, mass killings they had to perform.

It seemed that in her absence, the Red Room had just gotten worse that Nat could ever
imagine. It was a miracle the two teens had survived so long, Yelena actually graduating, that
they were still here to reminisce bitterly and compare scars.

It fueled something in Natasha, made her start her futile search of Ivan once more once their
talk was over and the vodka was gone. It was something she wasn't just doing for the sake of
wanting to avenge Brooklyn and Yelena, but also because she still had the sinking suspicion
Ivan might actually be a client of the alien weapons.

Quite possibly the mastermind.

****

Brooklyn POV-

"Again" a familiar voice said, strong and true as the sound rang across the cave-like room.

Brooklyn was panting, covered in sweat and blood, the knife on hand almost dripping with
the red liquid, making a puddle by her feet.

Still, she knew better than to take a breath or mourn the twenty bodies on the floor.

Brook took up her stance once more, ready for the next attack as five widows in uniform
stepped forward. They were all likely near ready to graduate, looking confident enough in
their win against her.

But Brooklyn knew the fight was practically already won.

One quick scan, and she knew it would take three moves to kill them all. Brook knew where
their dead bodies would land on the floor and how much blood they would spill. The teen, no,
the young girl, had already worked out all the attacks the others were planning, and knew that
90170 wanted quick kills today.

The rest of the young widows were standing on the sidelines, they were crosslegged, staring
ahead with no sight of emotion, just as Brooklyn stared at the opponents circling her like
vultures.

Just as quick as the fight had begun, it had ended.

Brooklyn looked up at who she'd recently figured out to be her mother, finding nothing but
malice and mild distaste in her features. The woman approached Brooklyn anyways, taking
the knife from her little hands, licking some of the blood clean.

Brook did not care, she was still seeing red from the fight, trying to control her urge to kill
more and more despite her growing guilt by the feel of warm blood running by her bare toes.
"You should be faster, like an unseen wisp of wind" the instructor said, beginning to circle
Brook with distaste, "You must be perfect, unbreakable, made of marble"

In seconds, the knife Brooklyn had been using to kill was stabbed into her arm. Brooklyn
knew better than to scream, she merely clenched her teeth, standing straight and refusing to
fall to her knees.

"The pain is necessary for you to take your place in the world" 90170 said.

Brooklyn knew the mantra, the answer so embedded into her soul that despite the pain, her
mouth still opened to say, "I have no place in the world"

"Exactly" the woman said, slowly and enunciating each syllable.

The knife was gone from her shoulder then, blood gushing down her arm as Brook fought a
scream. Still, she did not move to cover the wound, not until she was instructed to.

This all felt very familiar, as if it had happened once already. Brooklyn knew the doors to her
left would open then, with more widows in training for her to fight, to battle past the pain in
her arm. She'd wash off the blood in the showers, cover the wound with torn shreds from her
sheets.

But once 90170 handed her the knife and the doors opened, it wasn't faceless girls that
appeared, they weren't strangers at all.

It was Damian, shackled and held in place by his own katanas now pinning him to the floor.
Jon came in next, dragged in heavy green glowing chains with Yelena coming in after him,
where she was locked in a cage where she fought for freedom with all her might. Another
widow brought Peter then, he was tangled in his webs like a mummy while Ned was made to
kneel, held in place at gunpoint.

Brooklyn's body began to grow then, turning her young body to that of a teen. She could see
her body's refection on the polished floors, could see the bloody knife in hand.

No.

She couldn't kill them. Wouldn't do it.

Her birth mother frowned at the defiance.

"You are the flame of Ivan, the heiress to our glorious kingdom. You will kill them" 90170
said.

Brooklyn frowned at how similar they both looked, frowned as the knife shifted into one of
Damian's katanas.

Not them...

"I will not kill them" she announced.

The widows sitting down on the sidelines stood up then, chanting one word in Russian over
and over like a broken record.

'Smert'. Death.

Brooklyn's body moved on its own, glossy strings becoming visible around her wrists, ankles,
and neck. It was like 90170 was control her body with them, and up from the terrace, some of
the strings were held by a smiling Ivan.

They moved her body to Damian first, who looked up from his kneeling position in disbelief
and fear. His green eyes were wide with pain from the way the katanas held him against the
floor, piercing the flesh of his hands.

She wanted to yell at him to run, to get away from her.

Brooklyn began to cry and scream then, fighting the hand that was slowly raising above her
head, katana in hand.

Not him...not Damian!

She would beg for his life, Brook wished she could as the sword came down.

Once second she had been in the Red Room, the next, she was sitting up on her bed at the
compound, screaming.

Brook quickly looked at her bare hand, glad to see there was no weapon or blood. Her arm
was undamaged...only a dream. She really shouldn't have decided to talk about the past with
Nat and Yelena today...especially about her mother.

The door burst open then, and as Brooklyn was reaching for her vibranium knife, ready to
attack, she found it was only an alert Peter, clad in Star Wars pjs, looking around the room for
a threat.

"I'm alright" Brook clarified, voice raspy as she added "Just a silly dream"

Peter relaxed then, leaning against the door as he said wearily, "I heard you screaming a lot,
you sure it was silly?"

Brook could only nod, almost disappointed when Peter announced he'd go back to his room
then, to go to him if she needed to talk.

Damian would've stayed, her best friend would've held her close though the terrors.

How spoiled had she become? The prospect of being alone after that dream was almost
incomprehensible. But it was two in the morning, there was no way she'd call Damian right
now when she knew he'd had a long day at the Kents after their nightly talk.
Instead of going back to sleep in misery, Brooklyn stood on shaky feet, making her way
barefoot to the kitchen, down the hall as she tried not to think of how afraid that dream had
made her.

She had weaknesses now.

If Ivan ever threatened them...she might just relent and do whatever he wanted. It was a
chilling thought, a reminded that she needed to be careful. To keep her friends close and her
enemies as far away as fucking possible from them.

Once she arrived at the kitchen, Brook was surprised to see she wasn't the only one up at this
time.

Dad was leaning against the fridge door, looking for something inside. When he heard her
arrival, Tony looked a little startled, then concerned, but at the end of all that, there was a
flash of understanding.

"Bad dream?" he asked simply.

Brooklyn tried to seem nonchalant as she chuckled in response, moving to sit at the kitchen
table where her dad greeted her with a hug. Brook leaned her lead on his shoulder, staring at
the light of the open fridge as she said, "Just something silly. What about you? Did mom send
you hunting for a midnight snack?"

Tony laughed at her poor attempt at jokes, Brook knew he was here for the same reason she
was.

"Not tonight" dad said earnestly, " I actually dream of the battle of New York quite often...
but now I see you in those nightmares sometimes. I see you fighting, I wake up wishing
could've kept you safe"

Dad must've been truly exhausted to admit as much.

"You did keep me safe" Brook clarified, "A missile would've killed me and all of Manhattan
if you hadn't done something about it...There was actually a point in the battle when you were
fighting a block away from me, and I was...happy I guess. Happy to have been so close to
you at least once. We both made it out alive and ended up meeting after all, so don't feel any
guilt from that"

Dad seemed unconvinced, but slightly more eased, enough so to go back to the fridge, pilling
ingredients on the table. He pilled large scoops of ice cream onto two plates, laddered them
with all kinds of sweets until two abomination-like mountains of sweetness and future
cavities were made.

Tony merely sat by her side afterwards, handing over a spoon which she took.

They both clinked their silverware before diving into the comfort foot.

"I can't decide if I'm the best or worst dad in the world for giving you ice cream this late at
night" Dad said.
Brooklyn was sure she had chocolate drizzle all over her lips and chin after the large bite of
comfort food she gobbled down, but she still turned to her father and said enthusiastically,
"Definitely the best"

The two chuckled, scarfing down the rest of their frozen goodness before going to the couch
in the logging area nearby. It was facing the window overlooking the front yard, which was
uninhabited and peaceful at this time.

Dad had pulled her close to his side, hugging her tight, and Brooklyn almost sighed with
relief when he did not ask about her own dream. He likely knew the feeling of restless nights,
that sometimes one just needed company, a feeling Brooklyn was just staring to get used to
thanks to Damian.

They must've sat there for hours, at some point in which Brooklyn fell asleep. But she
could've sworn she heard her dad whisper something before her mind wandered.

"I'll always keep you safe, I promise"

Mom woke them up the next morning, smiled down at their place curled up on the couch.
Pepper did not ask for an explanation, nor did she seem bothered that dad had not returned to
bed with her last night. Mom merely kissed them both on the head, ushering them up for the
last day of Brook's vacation to begin.

Tony had been kind not to mention the nightmare the rest of the day, but Brook made sure to
stay by his side as much as possible to assure him she was fine, that he need not feel guilt
over her ever again.

Still, Brooklyn dared to use Ned's encrypted group chat to make sure everyone else was safe.

Their response was a relief that finally got her to relax the rest of the day as she watched
movies with her family, all of them lazily enjoying their last day before getting back to
missions or school.

Everyone was safe and happy...that's all Brook could ask for to chase away the memory of
her awful mother.
 The Circus at School
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Though she'd had a great week at the compound, there was something about being back in
the halls of Midtown that felt comforting, made her feel relaxed.

Happy had been the one to drop her, Peter, the agent, and Harley off at school this morning,
and they'd had a fun time watching Claire and the man debate the merits of certain security
measures. It was like watching two lions fighting for a small slab of meat.

As soon as Brooklyn took out the literature book from her locker, she was tackled into an
embrace by none other than Tanya.

"I missed you so much Brooks! I know we texted one another the entire time but I missed
seeing your sweet face!" Tanya said enthusiastically, Brook still being crushed by the
cheerleader's arms and pompoms.

Further down the hall, Peter was laughing at the sight, Ned already by his side shooting her a
quick salute for the suffering.

Yelena got back from her own locker as well, no longer hesitating to join the group, she even
seemed to be greeting Peter and Ned pleasantly.

Once Brooklyn was released, she beheld Tanya's familiar brown curled hair, the blue and
gold cheer outfit, and that smile that never seemed to dim.

"I missed you too, Tanya" Brook replied honestly, letting the girl guide her over to the boys
where Harry and MJ had just arrived.

As expected, Peter's cheeks were already flushed at the sight of MJ, long curly brown hair put
in a lazy bun, ensemble of dark comfortable clothes, and eyes that seemed to hold all the
knowledge in the world, even when buried in a new book.

Beside MJ, Harry was already making large hand gestures, explaining something that no
doubt had something to do with the upcoming football game. Girls still slowed down as they
passed by him, shooting their best flirtatious gestures that Brook still couldn't quite
comprehend.

As soon as Harry caught sight of her and Tanya, he stopped mid-tale to run over to them,
scooping her up into an embrace in seconds. All Brook could do to stay in balance was clutch
onto his letterman jacket and let him scream her name a few times in greeting.

The Stark still smirked when she noticed Harry and Tanya exchanging middle fingers at one
another, but it seemed that even their gesture of annoyance carried a bit of relieved
familiarity.

It wasn't until Brooklyn was back with her friend group that she realized that week long
absence had been the longest she'd been away from them since meeting them.

It felt right to be amongst them, even with the loud conversations around them, sounds of the
school news on screen, even seeing the decorated halls and flying robots above their heads
felt right...it felt like home, just as the compound did.

But there was still something missing.

As soon as the loud conversations turned into hushed whispers, Brook tried her best to hide
her smile as she turned around, looking out into the entrance of the school where students
were starting to clear a path.

That's what was missing...

Even her friend group seemed to grow quiet as Damian Wayne and Jon Kent finally appeared
inside the building, side by side. As always, students of all ages gawked at the pair, at Jon
with his sweet smile, blue eyes bright as the sea, sporting his own letterman jacket with an
ease in his step.

Beside him, Brooklyn's best friend set those glaring green eyes towards anyone who stared at
him for too long, not that it deterred any of the girls and some of the boys from looking at
Damian's impeccable posture with anything other than admiration and awe.

The sight of his usual black turtleneck, pressed trousers, and polished black dress shoes...it
may have made the Wayne seem cold and distant to others, but to Brooklyn, it was the
missing part of home in Midtown.

As the two strolled down the hall, some students greeted Jon with claps on the back or even a
few handshakes, but his pace never faltered as he stayed by Damian's side.

Brooklyn tried her best not to let her relief show, to let it be known that she had missed her
'nemesis' more than she had anticipated.

It was Jon that saw Brooklyn's group first, he practically dragged Damian over to them.
Everyone int he group greeted Jon warmly, and when he gave her a quick hug, Brook noticed
he smelled like Kansas, where he no doubt spent most of his vacation.

After a quick handshake exchanged between himself and Harry, Jon turned to Yelena,
greeting her with a quick wave and a slight reddening of his cheeks. Tanya was already
smirking at the sight beside Brooklyn, but the Stark was preoccupied using that distraction to
lock eyes with Damian.

They dared exchange subtle nods, but were not able to do much else.

Just like with all her friends, Brooklyn had kept up with Damian, via walkie-talkie, but there
was something about him being here by her side that seemed right.
The Red Room had once told Brook that getting attached to people was a bad idea, that
people could not be trusted, and eventually, they would leave. But after a week, no one had
forgotten her, they had all come back together at last.

It was then that an odd sound brought her out of the safety of Damian's gaze.

Trumpets resonated across the hall, the lights above them dimmed, and some students began
to hold out lamps that shot out harmless lasers of different colors.

At first Brooklyn was afraid this was some sort of attack or threat, so she moved to stand
before Harry. In seconds, Yelena took stand beside her, backpack forgotten on the floor as she
stood protectively before MJ, Jon moving to her side as Damian moved to Brooklyn's. Peter
stood before Tanya and Ned by Jon's side, all of them now looking out into the hall of the
school were a spotlight seemed to move towards them.

The crowds of students parted slowly only to reveal the most ridiculous and un-threatening
sight possible, it almost made the Stark angry she'd bothered trying to reach for a weapon.

Brooklyn knew she wasn't dreaming, because Flash atop a white horse with a band behind
him and confetti shooting out in the path before him wasn't something her mind would ever
allow, but she still pinched herself to double check.

Flash wore an orange suit, smiling proudly down at the crowds, smirking as more and more
spotlights honed up on him.

"You guys see that too right?" Harry asked behind her, to which MJ replied annoyingly,
"Whatever that is, its bound to be a disaster"

Tanya peeked between Peter's and Jon's shoulders, chuckling as she whispered above the
sounds of the triumphant music, "Maybe this is his way of announcing his sweet sixteen"

"I thought sweet sixteens were for girls?" Ned pipped in, phone in hand as he began
recording the odd sight before them.

Everyone in the group knew by now Flash was not above having a traditionally female party
to celebrate himself, but they still flinched as confetti cannons shot out strings of color all
around them, especially as members of the football team began handing Flash roses one by
one as he passed.

Even the white horse seemed fed up with this bullshit.

Brook shot a questioning look at Harry and Jon, but even they seemed puzzled by the actions
of their teammates.

To her horror, Flash did not merely pass them by. No, he pulled on the reigns, stopping before
them as all spotlights held by students were either focused on the group or Flash.

Two football players stepped up then, helping Flash off his horse, and it was with a confident
smirk that the decathlon teammate clutched the bouquet of red flowers before him and
strolled over to them.
The music from the band had become louder then, to which Harry whispered in mocked
horror, "Holy shit, is there a final boss coming?"

Had Brooklyn not been playing so many video games since meeting Ned and Peter, she
might've been oblivious to the joke. Either way, the laugh that had threatened to come out
stopped as soon as Flash's eyes locked onto her own.

Oh, no.

When she looked to Damian beside her, he was already glaring at Flash, daring him to step
closer. Now, either Flash had lost his mind, or he truly was an idiot, because even as he
flinched and briefly stepped back at the sight of the Wayne, he seemed to recover, plastering
on a confident grin as he moved to stand before Brooklyn.

The music came to a stop then and Flash knelt down on one knee, offering the bouquet up to
her.

Brooklyn was frozen in place, so were her friends by the looks of it.

"Um, why?" was all Brook could say towards Flash's kneeling form, ignoring the whispers
and clapping from the large mass of students now surrounding them, caging Brooklyn in
from fleeing.

"Brooklyn Stark" Flash said with way too much bravado, "I know we started off on the
wrong foot, but I think we can both agree the chemistry between us has brought us to this
moment"

Brooklyn raised a brow down at him and said with slight confusion but mostly annoyance at
the display of attention, "What are you talking about, we don't have Chemistry together"

The students around them began to chuckle, and when some started taking out their phones,
no doubt to record this, Flash's football friends made sure to stop them. Good, last thing
Brook needed was this nonsense ending up on the internet.

Flash chuckled too, albeit less amused than everyone else. He stood up then, practically
forcing Brooklyn to take to bouquet as he placed her free hand on his chest.

"I mean the chemistry of the heart" Flash clarified loudly, "The chemistry that helped me plan
this, all of this just for you. So what do you say Stark? What time should I pick you up for the
dance?"

Oh....

Brook had once been relieved no dance invitation had come from Flash, thinking he'd at last
given up on his annoying flirtation, that she had finally scared him away. But the idiot had
been bidding his time for something grander than a simple letter Brooklyn would've burned.

Der'mo. Shit.
The dance was scheduled for tomorrow and he'd waited until after the week off to ask her?
How confident was he in her answer? Did this sort of grand and embarrassing display often
work to sway the minds of girls?

The hall went quiet waiting for her answer, one Brooklyn wanted to shout, but the light from
the spotlight was too bright, there were too many eyes on her.

Before any of her friends could intervene, Brooklyn pushed back all her panic, reminding
herself that she was not some frail child needing someone to speak on her behalf.

Because she still had a public image to keep, Brook decided not to kill Flash and instead try
to sound as kind as possible as she said, "Sorry Flash, I'm afraid I already have plans for the
dance"

Plans to go alone....

Flash's composure faltered then, eyes wide as he seemed to process her words properly.

The crowd burst into a series of gasps and laughter, to which his entourage reacted by
ushering people away from the scene. One of them, who had been the only one allowed to
film the current situation, even put down his phone, nervously helping his teammates to usher
the crowds away.

"What do you mean you already have plans? I know for a fact you haven't said yes to
anyone!" Flash said, whispering harshly, his left eye twitching in annoyance, "I did all this,
learned how to ride a horse, and you still say no!? How!?"

Maybe getting in trouble for fighting Flash wouldn't be so bad after all.

Having dad's unrivaled ability for sarcasm and witty comebacks would be nice right about
now too...

Before she could either repeat her answer or let a furious looking Yelena on him, it was
Damian that stepped up then. Flash rushed back a few steps quickly, eyes wide with fear as
Damian scoffed at him, rolling his eyes at the display around them as he said with a voice so
serious and deep, Brooklyn thought he might be talking to an enemy.

"This ridiculous display is a waste of my time, Stark and I have to go inquire about a history
assignment. Step aside" he said, even when Brooklyn knew that excuse was not true at all.

It seemed that even when he shaking in fear, Flash knew it too.

"But I'm in your history class, we have nothing due!" complained Flash, only to be silenced
by what Brooklyn assumed to be a more intense glare.

"We're ahead of the class you pretentious ferret, now move" Damian said, at last causing the
teen to step aside.

Damian looked back only to scowl at her and say, "Lets go Stark, I wont be late to that
meeting because of you"
Brooklyn did not stagger by the glare or the tone as she moved to walk by his side towards
the stairs on the other side of the hallway. As they passed Flash, he was glaring at the floor,
punching the side of the horse in the middle of the hallway.

Damian's eyes locked onto that action, and as they passed, the Wayne caressed the side of the
horse as if soothing it, then he clicked his tongue. At first the Stark was confused by the
action, until she the horse started neighing, then preceded to kick Flash to the floor with one
of its front legs.

Brook stared at the sight in disbelief, and when she turned to face Damian, he was calm and
collected until they made it past the odd stares of the crowd, to the empty hallway upstairs.

Then, in that privacy, he smirked evilly.

Damian the animal whisperer was almost as resourceful as Damian the Robin.

The thought was so amusing, Brooklyn couldn't help but chuckle, and when their eyes met,
the two stopped in the middle of the hall to smile.

"Thank you for sparing me from that nonsense" she said.

Dami's smile lessened then, but he nodded in acknowledgement. Even though they were still
at school, the weight of their week away suddenly crashed into her. Without thinking too
much on it considering they'd shared her apartment for a weekend, the Stark moved to give
him a brief hug.

She'd expected Damian to do nothing at first, but as his strong arms wound around her back,
Brook let herself relax against his embrace, settling her face on the chest of her best friend.
Though she knew Dami would never admit to missing her out loud, she couldn't help but
wonder if the way in which he held her close meant he had.

Brook stood on the tips of her heels then, winding her arms around his covered neck, pulling
her friend closer as if in gratitude.

Right now, they were just Brooklyn and Damian after all.

"Sometimes I think people can't possibly get more idiotic, yet Thompson is always there to
prove me wrong" Damian whispered angrily.

She smiled against his shoulder, "I can't believe you called him a pretentious ferret"

Damian did not seem fazed by her amusement, not as he ran his fingers across the scars on he
back covered by a sweater. It remained Brook of the nights he stayed by her side to keep her
safe, when Damian traced those same awful wounds to lure her to sleep.

It had been odd waking up during the week and finding herself alone in bed, hell, Brooklyn
had even missed Titus' presence warming her feet.

But they were back at school now, they were both safe and unharmed.
Damian huffed out a quick chuckle then.

"He should count himself lucky I did not call him something worse, my beloved"

My beloved.

She'd heard him call her that multiple times during their talks at night, but hearing it in person
was somehow better.

Though she hadn't expected their reunion as best friends to happen this way, Brook was just
glad to be in his embrace. She was glad he was warming up to them, that a week away had
not caused any rift between their progress.

They still passed notes in history that day, having to be more careful than usual because Flash
kept staring back at her, as if waiting for Brook to change her mind.

Damian's notes that day consisted mostly of all those insults he hadn't say back in the hall.

It slowly shifted to amused jokes when the history topic for the day turned into the formation
of the top crime city of the world, Gotham. As the teacher went off about the historical
mistakes of law enforcement and the way in which the Waynes now acted as the only think
keeping the city afloat, along with the vigilante Batman and his sidekicks...well Brooklyn
couldn't help but find the slideshow amusing.

Her classmates kept their eyes on Damian then, probably amazed by the amount of power his
family held, but unaware the Robin of Gotham was in their midsts as well. There was even a
photo of Batman with a small boy by his side in the PowerPoint, who Damian secretly
claimed was Dick Grayson in his youth, the first Robin.

My greatest ally,

Who knew your brother would grow up to be so handsome? Brooklyn wrote on a small piece
of paper, passing it on to Damian discretely.

She heard him scowl, but he quickly passed back a letter, also in assassin code, that almost
made her bust into laughter then and there.

My beloved annoyance,

He's a mild specimen at best, don't flatter him.

"Though crime still reigns supreme in Gotham, it seems its territory has been split between
crime groups and organizations. That hasn't stopped the city to continue the steady flow of
income thanks to Wayne Enterprises and all its resources..." The teacher went on, and Brook
waited until he'd turned around back to the projector displaying the docks of Gotham she
knew well enough, that's the teen passed back a note that caused Damian to playfully kick her
under the table.

Dearest life surprise,

Just be glad you didn't inherit this Robin costume, though I'm sure you'd look lovely with
those green diapers and bare legs.

Maybe she'd deserved that one.

The rest of the school day had gone relatively docile, it seemed that even crime around
Queens was at a standstill after the Thanksgiving celebrations, people too consumed by cyber
Monday to bother stealing or killing.

Because of the passiveness of it all, during lunch, Jon and Peter had managed to convince
Brook and Damian to end patrols earlier to go to a Comic Book Fair the two were far too
excited for since it had holiday deals.

While those two went into the building filled with hundreds of teens and kids, Brook had
suggested that she and Damian go to the park in front of the building instead, one that was
relatively empty this time of day.

Since the four had met there after patrols, Brooklyn had time to stop home to get a blanket
and food so the two could wait peacefully for their friends. That had been a good call
considering Peter mentioned they might be in there for hours.

Damian was still keen on being cautious, so they wore sunglasses to hide their identities and
even their coats seemed to be doing wonders to not only keep the cold of from the cloudy
afternoon away, but to conceal their true selves.

They settled the basket near a duck pond were Damian took to feeding the animals with some
small bread rolls while Brooklyn finished her homework.

She occasionally got texts from MJ and Tanya who were busy working out the last details of
their outfits for the dance tomorrow night.

In truth, they both looked great so far, but it made her wonder about the date Damian would
be taking.

Though she was pissed Bruce Wayne had meddled with her friend's night, Brook had never
bothered to ask who Damian might be taking. It could be the famous Mia Smoak-Queen,
heiress of Queen Industries in Starling City, the city know for its famous superhero, the
Green Arrow.

Brooklyn had gotten a glimpse of the blonde on Family Day, noticed that the Queen family
got along well with the Waynes.

Setting down her notebook, Brooklyn leaned back on the blanket with a sigh.

Damian, who had been busy drawing on his notebook, stopped the strokes of his pencil then.

"So, who is your dad making you go to the dance with tomorrow?"

Brooklyn began eating some crackers as Damian replied exhaustively, "Does it matter?"
Of course it did! What if she cornered Damian the way Flash had today. As Dami's friend, it
was the Stark's duty to make sure he'd be safe!

"I suppose it does because you aren't happy"

The Wayne smirked, "I rarely ever happy"

She had a feeling Damian was mistaking moodiness with unhappiness.

Mindful of her skirt, Brooklyn sat up and crossed her legs comfortably. Damian had gone
back to sketching, but his brows were furrowed, just not in concentration.

"I told you I'd be there tomorrow if you need me, if it becomes too much, we can leave and
damn the consequences of that action later" she said honestly, worried his dad's action's might
trouble Damian more than others might wager.

Damian looked deep into her eyes for a heartbeat, then nodded, relenting one of his rare small
smiles as he ripped a page from his notebook, handing it over rather hesitantly.

The paper was thick, an odd texture she was not very familiar with.

The drawing itself she recognized, it was herself after all.

How Damian had managed to put so much detail with a mere pencil, creating shadows and
highlights was beyond her, but Brooklyn smiled down at the perfectly drawn version of
herself on that blanket, leaning down as she worked on homework.

Had he been observing her all this time?

"This is amazing, Dami" Brooklyn whispered mostly to herself as she traced the lines of her
face and hands.

"Its yours" Damian said, "I believe I once promised to show you my artistic hobby. Consider
the promise fulfilled, just don't let anyone else see it"

She smirked at that.

Looking up to find him already staring her way, Brooklyn let herself smile widely to try an
express the gratitude she felt. No one had ever drawn her before, she'd never considered
herself worthy of being the muse of someone's creativity...until today.

"This will stay safely in my room, I promise" Brook replied, moving to intertwine one of her
hands with his own, "But now I owe you some ballet it seems"

Damian seemed very serious with those dark shades on, but the thumb he gently ran across
the palm of her hand was quite the opposite.

"I look forward to it, my beloved"

As they heard the sounds of footsteps approaching, Brooklyn went back to her side of the
blanket, their hands unwinding from one another as Jon and Peter rushed towards them.

They both looked slightly disheveled, with a few bags each that seemed to be filled with
comics.

"Sorry we took so long! I'm glad you two didn't kill one another while we were gone! Thank
you for waiting" Peter said, settling down by her side while Jon went straight to the food by
Damian's side.

Brook had just enough time to hide the drawing in her history book as Damian closed his
sketch book from Jon's prying eyes.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in that park, eating while the boys talked about all the
comics they'd been able to find, first edition this, new comic that. Jon had actually bought
Peter a few comics once the spiderling had run of money, both looked very happy about it
actually.

Though tomorrow's school day would be cut short because of the dance, the four were able to
spend the afternoon alone without parents telling them what to do or worrying over weapons
and assassins.

They talked about their plans for the dance, Brooklyn even helped Jon and Peter perfect their
dancing when they mentioned being worried about it. Instructor Damian even offered to help
as well, using a fallen branch from a nearby tree to help fix the teens' postures the way he had
when they'd both helped their literature classes learn the craft for the Romea and Julian play.

Their friends were a little sloppy at first, but eventually, Brooklyn was convinced Yelena
would be able to find no flaws in Jon's steps, a fact he seemed ecstatic about. Perhaps Kent
truly cared about Yelena in a way Brook did not yet understand...

Good.

In a way, Brooklyn felt it was making Yelena a better person, she only hoped tomorrow's
dance would go by smoothly.

By the time it was time to go back home, Peter scooped Brook into his arms while Jon and
Damian got back in his sports car. The sky was dark by then, so there was no real threat of
being seen.

Just as Brooklyn wound her legs around Peter's waist, arms around his back, she was able to
catch one last glimpse of Damian.

She knew they'd talk tonight, likely more so about the dance and all that, but her worries for
him persevered even now. Damian was leaning on his car door when Brook send him one last
smile.

He gave a smile nod back as he made it into the drivers seat and drove away, Brooklyn
swinging away in the opposite direction. She stared at his retreating form until vanished in
the traffic below.

She couldn't help but clutch her bag tight, remembering the drawing inside.

Peter actually praised Brook on the way home, glad she had been able to stomach a few hours
with Damian Wayne for his and Jon's sake. It made the Stark wonder if there would ever
come a day when she and Damian could trust their friends with the knowledge of their secret
friendship, if they would understand and accept it.

It was silly to be afraid of their acceptance, but they were a team....

Still, Brooklyn slept soundly that night, staring at the red dress hanging on the doors of her
closet, the one only Damian had seen so far. She started at the wonderful drawing now
hanging beside the polaroids with the Wayne too with equal fondness.

Tomorrow would be a challenge in a sense, a new experience that she'd have to grow used to
in this new life. Brook tried to think of it as a practice of sorts for galas and elegant events of
the future, after all, how complicated and troublesome could one little school dance be?

************

Damian POV-

It had gotten worse.

The rapid pounding in his heart, the flush in his face, that awful sinking in his stomach.
Though Damian was certain he was not coming down with a fever, he'd become troubled
enough by his symptoms to got to Pennyworth as soon as he made it home.

Mostly everyone was out on patrols, Drake too busy in the Batcave, Selina already asleep.

It made it easier to go up to the man, knowing he'd keep quiet of any all and sicknesses he
could have, prevent Damian's siblings and father from realizing he was in a state of
weakness.

To say Pennyworth was startled by the request of a medical check up would be an

understatement. The man looked like Damian had asked for a magical unicorn.

Nevertheless, the two made their way to the small office space equipped with medical
supplies and machinery. After everyone took to coming home injured most of the time,
Pennyworth had established multiple rooms in the mansion for medical care, mostly because
like Damian, no one wanted others to see them at a moments weakness.

Damian was starting to question his good judgment as he settled on the small bed, letting
Pennyworth ask for his symptoms.

It was not easy to describe, much less to make sense of, but Damian tried to explain, "When I
am in Queens, it is as if the lack of pollution affects my body. My heartbeat will increase at a
moment's notice, like its going into a heart attack. My breathing becomes labored sometimes,
likely due to that appalling sinking of my stomach"
Pennyworth's previous frown dissipated, as did the writing on his notebook.

He paused for a second, fighting what looked to be a twitch in his mouth.

"Do these symptoms occur at a specific time, Master Damian? Perhaps in the company of
someone?"

Damian paused to consider.

Was he insinuating someone was poisoning Damian deliberately? Though plausible, it

seemed highly unlikely. The Wayne had become more aware of the symptoms when he was
in the company of the only person he trusted fully, likely because he was always so relaxed
around Brooklyn.

"Now that you mention it, there are times when it becomes very noticeable. Do you suspect
foul play from someone at school?" Damian asked, sitting up from the bed and getting ready
for blood to be drawn for toxicity tests.

Pennyworth did not bring out a needle, in fact, the man was smiling faintly.

With a quick close of his notebook, the man stood and said with all the seriousness in the
world, "I'm afraid your symptoms have no cure, Master Damian"

Damian pondered on the idea of a near death, but found little fear in the concept, all good
assassins of the world did not treble at such thoughts after all. But he felt a slight discomfort,
as if clinging to life was a must not for his selfish needs, but for something greater.

Still, Damian had expected Pennyworth of all people to at least be a little upset at the
prospect of his death.

"How much time do I have to live then?" Damian asked, unsure why he was so weary all of
the sudden.

"From what I gather, you have all the time in the world, thanks to this, perhaps even a better
quality of life. You just need to clear the stubbornness and confusion in your head"

Damian sat there, unsure if he was sentenced to death or not, wondering what could be so
deadly yet beneficial at the same time.

But as Pennyworth left with an order to go get some rest, Damian held onto the last words the
man had said. They sounded familiar.

Confusion...

When confusion clouds you, look up the rest of that quote Mr. Wayne, perhaps you'll thank
me one day

That day on the run, Brooklyn's old boss had mentioned a ridiculous quote that made little to
no sense, which was viable considering that man looked mad all on his own. But the curiosity
of such madness is what made Damian rush upstairs, turn on his computer, and look up the
few words he recalled from the so called Louis de Bernières.

It was not difficult to find the passage, and with Titus by his feet, Damian stared at the
glowing screen and read;

It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a
decision. You have to work out whether your roots are become so entwined together that it is
inconceivable that you should ever part.

That is what the man had said to Damian, yet the quote continued on....

Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the
desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is
kissing every part of your body. No... don't blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just
being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over,
when being in love has burned away. Doesn't sound very exciting, does it? But it is!

Love.

That was the answer to a crazy man's riddle...love.

"Do you not see what you have boy?" The man had said to Damian, as if it had been the most
obvious thing in the world. Was that so called Marshall implying that the Wayne suffered
from the love his siblings spoke wonders of?

Damian had never considered himself capable of such level of emotions, never bothered to do
more that joke about it with Brooklyn.

Was Pennyworth insinuating the same thing? That Damian somehow appreciated Brooklyn as
something more than being best friends? Is that why he only became aware of those
symptoms in her presence?

It was foolish, a ridiculous notion made by a man who by Brooklyn's account, loved fairytale
books and happy endings.

You have to work out whether your roots are become so entwined together that it is
inconceivable that you should ever part.

Damian knew deep in his brain, perhaps even his heart, that he'd never part ways with
Brooklyn. She'd become his closest friend, the person he could turn to for anything, one he
was willing to fight for even the most awful of enemies. He knew she'd defy hell itself for
him as well, that they had reached some sort of understanding in that sense.

But surely such a thing could not be considered love.

How ridiculous.

Damian went to bed troubled then, not because of the dance, but because life was starting to
get complicated, nothing was making sense and too much was out of his control.
 He couldn't bring himself to inquire about it with Brooklyn that night as they talked, wouldn't
dare put her in a position where she might be uncomfortable by such a topic neither of them
fully comprehended.

Besides, it would be almost impossible to imagine...a Wayne and a Stark together, the heirs to
enemy assassin organizations feeling an emotion no good trained assassin should dare hope
for.

It was all foolish...completely impossible

Damian went to sleep that night, Brooklyn's chuckles still fresh in his mind.

An odd thought slipped through his exhausted mind then, created before Damian could stop
it.

There was no one in the world Damian allowed himself to be close to, no one else his body
could stand touching and his mind listen to with complete agreement and understanding. No
one.

Of course, that was a foolish though, one he shoved all the way back inside his head never to
be summoned again...or so he thought.

Chapter End Notes

OHHHHHH! Finally, the last of that quote revealed. Marshall called it since the
beginning! (in case its been a while and you don't recall the conversation between
Damian and Brook's boss, its in chapter 52)

Anyways, I hope you guys are excited for the Yule dance! Wonder what kind of things
will happen to the crazy kids...

As always, I hope you are all doing well, that you are taking care of yourselves, and that
you remember that you are important to me and everyone around you. Stay strong!
 Hearts of the Yule Dance

Brooklyn POV-

Brook supposed that Harley was the Stark with the 'least' luck today. Because her younger
brother had a date to pick up but he couldn't drive yet, so Happy had become their designated
driver.

Poor kid.

Peter had borrowed May's car to pick up Tanya and MJ, in fact, he'd left earlier after
checking up on Brooklyn to do just that. Harry and Ned also had their own dates to worry
about, and thanks to a very enthusiastic text from Natasha, Brook knew Yelena had been
picked up as well.

I gave that kid the scary 'dad' talk. You were right Rosa, he's a good kid.

Brooklyn knew better than anyone that Natasha could be the scariest being on earth when she
wanted to be, in fact, rumor had it that only two people had snapped at her, once each. Both
of those instances resulted in trauma from two grown Avengers. Whatever Jon had done to
keep his cool in front of her was worthy of a medal.

Praise was also rare for sestra to use, meaning Jon must've charmed the very protective
Avengers with skills beyond Brook's understanding.

As for Brooklyn, she was just about ready to leave. Like she promised, Aunt May had come
over with Peter to do Brook's make up, which ended up being quite flattering while still
remaining rather natural. Her red dress was on, and though it had long sleeves and a floor
length skirt, Brooklyn was consciously aware of the winter cold of December's first days
outside the warmth of her apartment.

Because she had no date, or a car, Brooklyn had decided to take the metro to school to avoid
a grueling walk on heels for miles.

If she wanted to catch the next one, she'd have to leave now.

One last check at her red lipstick, the golden combs holding back her loose red hair, and the
Stark watch hidden under her sleeve...

After replying to her family's good luck messages, Brooklyn got a black coat and quickly
made her way to the front gate. Just as she'd predicted, the weather had dropped at last, and
though there was no wind, the cold was there. Not Russian cold, but still uncomfortable.

On her way to the gate, Brooklyn returned the waves of passing neighbors who were either
coming back from work or walking their pets. Though she knew none of them personally,
Brook had grown accustomed to being polite to them. Brooklyn Stark lived in their apartment
complex, yet none of them had suffocated her with request for photos or autographs like
people outside in the city.

As far as she was concerned, that respect of privacy, of at least attempting to treat her like
any other neighbor, was very nice.

Brook was still pondering on that small blessing when she closed the large gates behind her,
only to find a familiar yellow Audi parked before her. The car's passenger window rolled
down to reveal her dad in one of his usual suits, shades on and not a care for the gawking of
the pedestrians around them.

"Otets? What are you doing here?" Brook asked, nearing to car.

Dad laughed like that was the silliest question imaginable, even though he was supposed to
be back in the compound, getting ready to leave for Washington DC in...an hour!

The door opened above her head as soon as Brook neared, and as dad lazily leaned on his
seat, he took off his shades, eyes full of sincerity as he said, "I know I'm not exactly father of
the year, that I haven't been able to be there for you all the time. I've missed a lot of firsts, but
did you seriously think I'd let you take a metro to your first school dance all on your own?
Nah, we Stark's always arrive fashionably late and in style!"

Brook stood there, eyes wide as she tried to fight back the extreme gratitude and affection for
her dad. He didn't have to do this, and though he talked about arriving in style and all that,
she could tell he was genuinely worried for her.

Shaking her head, trying to fight back her smirk, Brooklyn gathered her skirts and got into
the warm car. Once the door closed, an old rock classic came on, and they were on the road
watching the sunset, Brook turned to her dad with a smile she could no longer keep at bay.

"Thank you"

Tony knew gratitude was difficult for her to express at times, he must've been shaken by her
words with at least some ounce of shock, but all he did was smirk and reply in his ever
improving Russian, "Pozhaluysta"

You're welcome. Not bad.

The two spent the ride to school in good spirits, with dad sharing some stories from his own
school dances. Most of them involved spiking the punch with alcohol, playing pranks on
teachers, and others which he left out, saying she was way to young to know about those tales
yet.

All in all, it was very interesting to learn about his past, to see a glimpse of the person he
used to be before he became Iron Man.

Once at the front of the school in the drop off area before the large gym, Brook could only
gaze outdoors were partners were making their way inside the winter decorated building,
music ready blasting inside.
Everyone was dressed as Brook had once predicted, in whites, blues, and even grays.

Before she could steel her nerves and open the door, knowing full well all the students who'd
stopped to behold the car would see her emerge, she felt dad grab onto her hand.

He'd lowered the music, looking at a loss of words for once.

"I know you're not used to these sort of things, but just try to have fun. Remember, don't do
anything I would do, but don't do anything I wouldn't do" dad said, for that last part trying to
sound like a stern parent, only to smirk at his own words.

Brook chuckled, "So don't go around making out with half the school but also no killing
anyone? Got it"

Tony added, "Well, yes. If any boys give you trouble, text Pepper so she can pick you up
right away. I know that being my daughter doesn't exactly make days like these easier, but
just remember that you are a Stark, nothing anyone says or does should effect you. Still try
and keep an eye on your brother, and don't drink! But... try to enjoy the night with friends,
and if anyone gives you a hard time...give them hell"

As far as pep-talks went, dad must be learning a thing or two from Grandpa Steve, because
suddenly Brooklyn wasn't so hesitant to go out and brave the sea of students.

When he extended out his arms, Brook did not waste a second crashing into his embrace. She
felt him holding her tight, as if he didn't want to let her go. Once she patted his back,
Brooklyn noticed his eyes were faintly glossy.

Taking off her coat, Brooklyn took one last steading breath as she clutched the door handle.

"By the way, you look beautiful, Daphne"

Brook smiled, and only turned away from the door briefly to squeeze his hand in thanks
before stepping out at last.

Some students HAD stopped their walk to the gym, hovering near the car as she exited.
Brooklyn was used to the stares by now, but they felt different today, yet she took dad's
advice and held her head high.

Just as she was about to saunter forward, dad's music blasted from the car, earning more
stares from the kids coming out fo their own vehicles.

With a roll of her eyes, Brooklyn looked back to see her dad smirking innocently.

"What kind of father would I be if I don't embarrass my own daughter for a few seconds?
Remember to be responsible, kid! Be home by midnight! Oh, and stay away from the
Wayne!" dad yelled, then sped out of the driveway with a chuckle.

Oh, she'd so get him back for that.

Yet...it felt nice to have a dad that didn't walk on eggshells around her, especially today.
With that, Brooklyn chuckled, then made her way past the stunned students and into the large
gym.

*****

The gym they normally used for assemblies looked almost recognizable. The top had varying
colored lights moving around the room, decorated with cotton clouds and hanging paper stars
of black and white.

The walls depicted many backgrounds of winter wonderlands, and in the furthest side of the
gym lay a stage with an unfamiliar DJ playing some pop hit that had most students away
from the tables on the edges of the room, swaying in the middle of the room with shouts and
chuckles.

This place was...not what she'd been expecting.

Standing by the entrance, Brooklyn was momentarily stunned as she scanned her
surroundings in case of an emergency. Though the Joker was likely incredibly busy dealing
with the Avengers and the Justice League tampering with his business, it was not unlikely
that he could try something against Damian or even herself.

She was only snapped out of those thoughts when Brook heard her name being shouted past
the booming sounds of the music that seemed to make the ground tremble slightly.

On the left side of the room by the food and drinks were her friends. Tanya had been the one
that shouted her name, waving enthusiastically. MJ and Peter were beside her, with Harry and
Ned busy serving drinks for everyone.

As Brooklyn ignored the wide eyed stares from those she walked by, she chose to focus on
how elegant everyone looked today.

Tanya had traded her usual cheer outfit for a sleeveless light grey dress, even MJ had
foregone her usual dark and loose clothes for a navi blue dress that reached her knees, she
was even wearing two corsages, a blue ensemble of flowers from Peter and one of white
roses from Tanya.

Ned's date was a girl from the decathlon team, and she was almost unrecognizable in that
white dress that was tight to the body, like the baby blue dresses Harry's dates were wearing.

All the boys looked impeccable in their suits, most favoring a tie except for Ned who opted
for a black bow around his neck that somehow fit the fedora vibe atop his head.

Each was wearing a flower ornament in their vest pocket to match the corsages given to their
dates. It was an interesting tradition, one Brooklyn didn't exactly envy.

Besides, what was more useful, a blaster watch or a flower?

Still, she approached her friends with a smile, almost tumbling to the floor when both Harry
and Tanya rushed over to hug her, fighting one another as they approached.
"Look at you, the cinderella of the dance!" Tanya said, moving to spin Brook around twice
then adding, "I thought you weren't coming for a second!"

She smiled, "Dad said Starks always arrive fashionably late"

Harry chuckled, moving to spin Brook around a few times himself despite the glares his twin
dates were shooting the Stark.

"You look absolutely gorgeous! Plus, you're not late at all, Peter just mentioned you were still
in your pjs when he saw you last, so he thought you might choose to stay behind" Harry said,
looking over his shoulder to see Peter rushing over to embrace Brooklyn.

"I can't believe Mr. Stark brought you! And you look great!" Peter said, looking a bit bashful
by the open praise. Brooklyn was not exactly used to being called great, or any sort of
compliment for that fact.

The rest of her friends joined in with praises and hugs, and after those rounds were over with
some extra praise from Tanya for choosing to wear such bold colors, Brook caught sight of
the other people she'd been looking for.

Jon and Yelena were sitting on a nearby table, with chairs pulled over from others clearly
meant to accommodate the whole group. Jon was pointing at the DJ, seemingly explaining
something to Yelena, which she leaned over to pay better attention to.

Brooklyn was shocked Nat had actually been able to convince Yelena to put on the gradient
blue dress, through, it was known that one did not simply say no to Natasha Romanoff, ever.

The Stark was still keenly aware that Yelena was probably as armed as Brook was in terms of
hidden weapons, yet she looked a far cry from using them any time soon.

Once everyone made it to the table, with Jon praising Brooklyn's attire with a smile, the Stark
took a seat between Yelena and Peter. They all took a sip of the punch, only to find its odd
taste was no doubt due to alcohol being snuck in just like dad had mentioned in his stories.

She'd had little time to try and wonder who could be the student responsible, a little game her
and Yelena had set out for themselves, when the crowd by the entrance of the gym quieted.
Brook was very much familiar by that silencing of voices, keenly aware of the two empty
seats beside Jon's.

She'd been looking for Damian since she arrived, albeit rather unknowingly. But there was no
doubt now that somewhere by the entrance, the Wayne had finally arrived.

Brooklyn tried not to look too interested, because no one could know they were friends after
all. Still, she turned around lazily and tried not to smile when she beheld Damian.

He always opted for pressed black pants and polished shoes, but it had been quite some time
since she'd seen her friend in a suit. Last time he wore one, they had met for the first time,
swearing to be enemies forever.
Only this time, the Wayne did not step into the busy hall with his family, but with a girl
Brooklyn did not know, but seemed to recognize, if only slightly.

While Damian looked serious and dressed to perfection, his companion looked bored, if not
slightly annoyed by the sights around her. She was petite, perhaps slightly shorter that Brook
was, but that's where all similarities between them ended.

The mystery girl wore a black dress that Morticia Adams would've had stashed in her closet.
She had short purple hair that fell in lazy waves, some cradling the pale skin of her face. She
looked tired more than anything, with slight dark circles under her eyes, but even those could
not take away from the odd glowing red gem between her brows.

Maybe she was an A.I. like Vision.

There was something dangerous about her that made Brooklyn realize Bruce Wayne had
likely not chosen some rich girl to accompany his son.

The girl was a good distance away from Damian, barely standing close enough to make it
look like they had arrived together. Still, they had matching scowls, looking around the place
as if they both hated everything and everyone in it.

For just a second, Brooklyn wondered if having such a quiet companion would be a relief to
Damian. Their team was normally very rowdy, perhaps someone such as himself would not
mind being around someone who clearly gave him his space.

"Damian is here! Finally!" Jon muttered, then beheld the girl by Damian's side with some
familiarity and added "I can't believe Raven dressed up for this"

Brook friendly turned her attention away from the pair at the front, and leaned over to ask
Jon, "Who is that girl?"

Yelena smirked beside Brook and added, "She looks absolutely miserable"

Jon beheld the two girls to his left with surprise.

"You haven't met the Teen Titans yet?" Jon asked Brook, and that small question was enough
for Brooklyn to realize that this so called Raven was one of the people she'd beheld on TV
alongside the famous alien Starfire.

Brook was not well versed in heroes, but the title of Teen Titan did little to get rid of
Brooklyn's unease of Raven. It was like her skin was begging her to get ready for a fight, that
a danger was too close.

"Raven joined the Titans around the same time Damian moved in with his dad. Well, her real
name is Rachel Roth, just don't call her that! I once asked her where she was from and who
her parents are, turns out she'd actually really interesting. She's from the Mystical Realm of
Azarath"

Brooklyn whispered nervously, "What does that mean?"

Over the sound of the music, Jon shrugged but proceed to whisper to the two ex-assassins as
if he was letting them into a big secret, "I have no clue. All I know is that its some kind of
extradimensional realm of sorts. Her mom is from that Azarath place, but she's human. It her
dad that gave the Justice League problems a few years back, he's some sort of demon"

A demon?

"Figuratively?" Brooklyn asked hopefully, wondering if this was like a Ra's al Ghul thing
since Damian's grandfather was known as The Demon.

Jon's shudder said otherwise.

"Nah, he was a real demon. There was this huge fight with him a few years ago that Damian's
dad managed to keep out of the news to prevent a mass panic. Raven's dad was trying to kill
us all but Bruce killed him" Jon said.

A real life demon....those existed.

Well, of course they did, this world had aliens and mutants roaming around, why not demons.

That's why Brook was so weary then, she had no clue what powers this so called Raven had,
but whatever it was, she was strong enough to be part of the Teen Titans.

Damian was the first to spot them at the table, and when Jon urged his friend to come, the
Wayne was left little choice but to walk over to them.

He and his date said very little as their took their seats beside Jon, leaving most of the table to
gawk at them.

"Well, here I thought you were lying about having a date, Wayne. Much less one of the
famous Teen Titans" Harry said nervously, clutching his red cup a little harder than he
should.

Beside him, Ned and Peter stared at Raven with recognition as well, leave it to those three to
know about all heroes imaginable.

Damian merely scoffed at Harry's question and shouted over the sound of the booming music,
"My father is an investor with the Titans, Raven and I are acquainted by such. As for your
surprise, I'm equally as astounded you only brought two dates, Osborn. Where are the rest?"

Before those two could start an argument, Tanya tried to defuse the tension. She fervently
introduced herself to Raven, praising the girl's dress and the array of rings on her hand with a
glint in her eyes.

That seemed to put everyone at ease for a while, introducing themselves to the newcomer.
Brooklyn did no such thing, she was too busy sharing a quick glance with Damian as if in
greeting.

He wasn't sitting too far away from her, but even then they knew better than to converse
between Jon and Yelena.
Damian's eyes went to the combs pushing back her hair, the ones he'd given her. Brook
nodded in thanks, wondering why he looked so surprised that she'd worn them.

Eventually, after introductions were over and it seemed clear that only Tanya was
comfortable talking to Raven, she tired to defuse the tension once again by dragging MJ to
the dance floor, encouraging Harry to do the same with his own dates.

It wasn't long before Ned took his own date out to dance, albeit more nervously than the
previous two pairs.

As if realizing he should do the same, Jon turned to Yelena with a bright smile, asking if she
wished to dance. Yelena was predictable in her answer, refusing to go. Yet Jon seemed like he
was not gonna let the blonde sit around all day during a dance, so he stood up and offered a
hand.

Yelena looked at it nervously, turning back to Brooklyn as if she were asking for advice.
Unwilling to let Natasha's dancing lessons go to waste, Brook merely nodded, trying to look
as encouraging as possible.

It was with great care that Brooklyn watched Yelena take Jon's hand at last. Brook was sure
Jon was over the moon by the gesture, but refrained from flying all the way to the roof in
excitement and instead took Yelena to the edge of the dance floor so she'd be more
comfortable.

The music had turned mellow then, and Brook watched as her friends swayed with their dates
along with dozens of others. In fact, Brooklyn was able to spot her brother for a few seconds
as he swayed around with his own date, a girl who smiled and laughed at whatever Harley
was saying. They both looked happy, and it seemed that Harley truly was making good use of
Grandpa Steve's own dance lessons and instructions on manners likely taken out of the 40s.

Peter made to sit by her side then, frowning at the liquid in his cup.

It was a shame Brook couldn't just lean over to talk to Damian, have a pleasant conversation
to pass the time.

It was actually Raven who spoke first, voice slightly deeper than Brook had expected while
still remaining feminine.

"You must be Brooklyn Stark" the girl said, looking bored as she scratched the black paint on
her fingernails.

Brook should really stop being surprised people knew her by now, but the slight panic of
being recognized still shook her for a second.

"A pleasure to meet you, Raven. Jon has spoken of you..." Brooklyn said, somehow not
feeling so genuine in her greeting. Raven was dangerous after all, Brook could see it clearly
by now.
The purple haired girl smirked, as if sensing Brooklyn's hesitance, like she could see Brook
clutching the small knife hidden in her right sleeve.

"I've been told your enemies with the Waynes" Raven said casually, shooting a glance to
Damian who looked about ready to blow a fuse by now.

Why would she ask about a rivalry that was well known? It was such an oddly placed
question.

Brooklyn wasn't sure if it was a test or if this so called Raven was trying to wage if a fight
would start, one that would ruin her evening. In any case, Brook never got to figure it out,
because Peter nervously asked Brook to dance then.

She knew he was worried Brooklyn would start a fight, both girls weren't exactly speaking as
friends, but she was slightly offended that Peter would think her with so little self restraint.

Regardless, the invitation took her by surprise.

Brook had never danced with Peter, had never thought it possible.

When he took her hand into his own, Brooklyn was left with no choice but to numbly follow
him to the edges of the dance floor near where Jon and Yelena were seemingly swaying
peacefully.

Her eyes were taken away from their wandering when she felt Peter's hand clutch her own,
the other pulling her closer by the hip. Brooklyn's hand was nervously guided to his shoulder
as her other followed, his stopping by the very top of her hips.

Ever the gentleman, Peter smiled and whispered that they could stop dancing if she got tired
or uncomfortable.

They started a simple sequence of box steps which Peter seemed to struggle with. He was
clumsy with his footwork, mostly worrying about being too close to her to focus.

It was amusing how different it felt dancing with someone other than Damian. With him, she
rarely had to think about her moves or steps, she could just relish in the moment knowing
they would keep in sync. With Peter, Brooklyn had to watch her footwork for both their
sakes, which wasn't annoying, it was just very different form what she was used to.

While she spun around, her dress billowing with every step, Brooklyn was able to spot
Damian at the table a few times. He looked grumpier than usual, keeping his eyes on the
dance floor even though he did not seem inclined to ask Raven to dance.

Peter was mumbling nervously about his lack of dancing skills, constantly apologizing for
messing up her first school dance as Brooklyn noticed Damian's gaze followed her own. He
kept his expressions passive, but when Peter got bold and tried to dip her, that gaze turned
away to talk to Raven at last.

It was odd to say the least, but as she assured Peter he was doing fine, even daring to spin
him a few times for fun, she noticed Dami's gaze never returned to her own.
After the stumbling mess that was their dance, the slow song stopped and most couples
returned to their tables. Peter, Brook, MJ, and Tanya were amongst those.

Tanya looked pleased as she walked with an arm around MJ's shoulders, but she seemed less
over the moon that Brook had expected.

She shot Brook a pair of thumbs up when she noticed Peter by her side, to which the Stark
merely rolled her eyes at.

Tanya had once made crushes seem like a fairytale come to life, saying dancing with the love
of your life felt like the best thing in the world.

Brooklyn had liked dancing with Peter, he was funny, and once he loosened up a bit, he'd
actually tried to be as silly as possible with her. But as far as feeling 'right' or 'magical'....it
hadn't.

Maybe Brooklyn was broken?

She still smiled as they returned to the table, Tanya immediately taking a seat next to Raven
to start up conversation again. Seeing Tanya busy, Peter must've seen his chance to finally
dance with MJ as another slow song came on.

He looked to Brooklyn nervously, to which the Stark whispered to him to breathe, that he
would do just fine and to summon that hero's confidence.

Peter nodded a few times, wiping his hands on the pants of his suit before standing up and
walking over to MJ. Michelle was fixing the bun atop her hair when Peter sat by her side on
the other side of the table, and with cheeks flushed, he asked her to dance.

From what Brooklyn heard, it was a stumbling of words, but MJ must've understood because
she too blushed and took his hand. As they walked away Brook eventually lost them in the
crowd, so she turned to the conversation Tanya was carrying instead, choosing to amuse
herself with that.

Tanya was a bubbly girl, but she did not hold so much interest with strangers for the most
part. This was unusual behavior, especially since Brook thought Tanya would cling to as
many dances as possible with MJ all night.

But the cheerleader was smirking, leaning forward on her chair as she beheld the purple
haired girl.

"You know what, I really like your gloominess, but maybe we can turn that frown upside-
down. What do you say we go dance, I really like this song" Tanya said boldly, shooting
Damian a glance as if to ask if he had intended to dance.

Damian merely turned away from the pair.

Raven seemed unsure, staring down at her hands as she said, "You don't want to dance with
me. I'm an empath, you wont like it if we touch"
An empath?

Suddenly Damian's reluctance to stay close to the girl made sense. Brooklyn knew he was
here with Raven under orders from his father, and to fulfill those, he'd suffer through a dance
with her if it meant fulfilling his duty, even if he didn't like being touched.

Damian had allowed himself to be touched during the school play, so he would've suffered at
least one dance with Raven. But above his discomfort with physical touch, were the walls he
kept up from others, unwilling to let them see him for who he was.

Damian had once mentioned that Brooklyn was the only exception to that reluctance.

He wasn't being rude or cruel on purpose, he just didn't want Raven to touch him for her
abilities...

"I have no idea what empath means" Tanya said, her smile unwavering as if she thought
nothing of it.

In an effort to explain, Raven clutched a stand of her short hair and said quietly, "I can feel
emotions...amongst other abilities. If I touch you, my powers will read you"

Tanya smirked, waving her hands dismissively as she replied, "Its ok, I have nothing to hide!
But if you see me singing in front of the bathroom mirror, then your visions are wrong"

Brooklyn tried to hide a smile at that, taking a sip of her disgusting beverage instead as
Damian rolled his eyes the Stark's way.

"I only feel, not see" Raven clarified, tired eyes seemly waiting for Tanya to move away, but
she only stood up and offered a hand.

"I think that's really cool actually, don't worry if your magic reaches out, I won't freak. Come
dance then, feel something good for once! I promise I only have happy memories, I'm a very
spoiled child after all" Tanya said, and when Raven took her hand, even Damian seemed
slightly shocked.

There were no visible signs of magic being activated, then again, Brooklyn wasn't sure what
to expect.

Tanya did not seem to be feeling anything ether, she just dragged the half-demon girl to the
colorful dance floor, guiding a silly series of steps that actually got her gloomy partner to
smile.

It was then, as she kept her gaze on her friends on the dance floor that Brooklyn noticed quite
a few boys were looking her way, some standing up as if to walk her way. MJ had warned
Brook about this, that coming alone would encourage many guys to dance with her.

Though she'd only partaken in one dance today, Brook already felt the room becoming too
stuffy, an the prospect of dancing with others, especially Flash (who seemed to keep his eyes
on her across the room) seemed like too much.
"I'm going out to get some air" Brooklyn said, keeping her gaze away from Damian so it
wouldn't seem like they were talking to one another, or at least not calmly.

"I'll follow discretely to avoid detection" Damian said shortly after, eyes on all the slowly
approaching boys to their table.

Brook quickly wrote a note with a napkin and some of her lipstick for her friends so they
wouldn't think she bailed. It was just a simple explanation that she'd gone to the restroom,
and after placing it in the middle by the vase with the fake flowers, Brooklyn strode out the
doors and into the corridors of the school.

She wasn't sure where to go take a break, and even though Brook had foolishly left her coat
in her otets' car, the cool breeze outside seemed very tempting right now.

There was a patio area next to the gym, that's where Brook went, able to see the ongoing
dance through the large windows of the building before her. It wasn't long until Damian
joined, looking around the space they so rarely found themselves in.

They took refuge by the entrance, unseen by those within and slightly sheltered from the cold
of the cloudy skies.

At least out here, they could finally be themselves...they could finally be friends.

"You wore the combs" Damian said, moving to stand before her as he eyed the rubies holding
her hair back. Brook did not stumble back as she let him examine them, wondering why he
thought she wouldn't wear them.

"Of course I wore them," Brook said with a smile, "My best friend got them for me after all"

Damian smirked, seemingly willing to play along with her little game as he muttered, "Your
best friend matched the color perfectly"

Of course Damian would be the one to compliment himself.

With a chuckle of her own, Brooklyn stepped forward, only hesitating slightly to see if he
was ok with it before bring him into a hug, something she'd been dying to do so since she saw
him come inside.

It did not take long for Damian to hug her back, both of them already long used to the gesture
between their friendship. His body heat was a welcome surprise, but not as much as his next
words.

His request.

"You promised me a dance" Damian said, "I expect you to keep your word"

Brooklyn looked around the dark yard only lit by a few lanterns.

"Here?" she asked incredulously, gesturing to the space before them.

The music was till going on inside, sounding like an underwater echo, but still loud enough to
dance to. When Damian shrugged and extended a hand out, Brooklyn took it without
hesitation.

Unlike the passive and relatively simple dancing going on inside, Brooklyn noticed Damian
was guiding her in the position of the waltz they'd once danced to back at the gala.

Standing beside him, she took both his hands in her own, both stepping forward a few paces.

When they found themselves before one of the large windows, they quickened their pace
despite the darkness that surely clouded them, but when they were dancing beside the walls,
they slowed down to common pace.

Despite the alterations to the dance to fit their secrecy, it was very easy to keep up with
Damian, even more so as his arm came around her back, hers around his neck, with their
other hands clasped together. Their steps never faltered, the dance actually chasing away all
traces of the cold that had been there once before.

Brooklyn couldn't help but smile as they spun around, this time with no daggers at each
others throats. Now that they weren't wasting time fighting, she could actually focus on
Damian's face, on how much more relaxed he seemed than earlier when they were inside.

When he picker her up to spin, Brooklyn stared down at his face, winding her hands in his
soft hair. As she was brought back to the floor, Brook was vaguely aware that their bodies
were much closer than before, enough that the space between them was almost invisible.

Brook did not mind, not with him.

Though there was no risk of being seen from the inside thanks to the darkness, Brooklyn still
smirked widely as they passed by the windows, almost amused that no one inside had any
idea that the most well known enemies of the school were dancing right outside.

But the music was mellow, calming, it made it easy to get lost in the green eyes before her as
Damian pulled her body away from him only to pull her back shortly after.

At some point, Brooklyn remembered her promise from once upon a time to show him her
ballet skills. Right now seemed like an odd time to do so, but somehow, Brook trusted that he
wouldn't be fazed by the change of steps.

Even though her heels were a far cry from ballet shoes, Brooklyn pushed her discomfort
aside, using the next spin to pirouette instead. It felt effortless with all the life practice she'd
gotten, even more so when Damian just went along with it.

As they continued their dance, Damian seemed to raise a brow in challenge to add as many
ballet moves to their dance as possible. She did, and he kept up. When her arms went up for
balance as she raised a leg, her friend was quick to hold her waist. She felt featherlight when
she spun with his helping hand.
One look at his small smile was enough for Brooklyn to know that perhaps he did not hate
her dancing at all.

As the song came to an end, Brooklyn recalled the first dance the two had shared, how she'd
been annoyed, pissed off, probably one wrong move from killing the Wayne. She'd retaliated
by dipping him at the end of the dance.

Tonight though, as if Damian was thinking of the same thing, it was him who dipped her
body as the last note of the song hit. Eyes wide, Brooklyn stared up at her friend with a
chuckle, one he replied to with a broader smile than before, sighing contently.

As her body was pulled back up against his, Brooklyn realized they'd left the safety of the
small roof above them, not only that, but small clusters now fell around them.

It took a few seconds for Brooklyn to realize it was snow....the first snow of the year.

Both teens stared up at the sky, still in one another's embrace as they watched the gray sky fill
with falling while snowflakes that gathered in their clothes and hair.

Something odd happened then. As Damian turned to look down at her, they were close
enough for their noses to touch. It felt like Brook had been paralyzed as she beheld those
emerald eyes, as she felt their cold noses moving around one another with every cold breath
they took.

Brook wanted to thank him for coming out with her, for the dance that had lifted her spirits,
and for everything else that came before that. She wished to tell him how important he was to
her, that though they had started out awfully at that gala long ago, she was glad they were
here now.

But the words would not come out.

There was a pounding in her heart as their foreheads touched, and the comforting feeling that
came with it made the Stark almost want to close her eyes and just stay here forever.

It almost felt like Damian was getting closer...

Then the shouting from inside startled them apart, weapons drawn as they moved to the
nearest window, only to realize the students had screamed not in fear, but joy, as a new song
came on. Upbeat and loud.

It was with a ridiculous sigh of relief that Brook leaned her arm against Damian's shoulder,
smiling at the snowflakes across her skirts.

"I must say, you're a very good dancer Dami" Brooklyn said, staring out into the mass of
swaying students the jumped up and down with little coordination.

Damian's hand found her own, squeezing it gently against his shoulder.

"Of course my dancing is exceptional, I was trained by the best" Damian said.
That sent both fo them into a little comparison between dancing instructors from the old days
as they took a seat on a nearby bench, not at all bothered with the falling snow, especially as
Dami complained she'd catch a cold with those sheer sleeves and draped his suit jacket
around her arms.

For good measure, she'd nuzzled into his side to make sure the prideful boy wouldn't freeze
to death either, and Damian had welcomed the embrace, pulling her close as they beheld the
grass before them turn white while sharing stories of the past.

What both of them did not know is that they weren't necessarily alone.

Jon had noticed Brooklyn and Damian were missing from the table a few minutes ago. Afraid
they had left to take care of a problem out in the city, he used his hearing to try and pinpoint
their distinctive heartbeats he'd now grown to be able to identify anywhere.

When he'd found them not too far away, Jon and pulled Yelena with him to the small
courtyard beside the gym, wondering if the Joker or something along those lines had shown
up. Yelena had not complained, if fact, Jon was happy to see she had been enjoying herself at
the dance.

She'd only threatened to kill him once today! Even so, she'd done it with a smile.

That feeling of warmth and happiness was put on halt as he stopped by the door, looking out
into the darkness where...where Damian and Brooklyn were dancing. Not fighting, but
dancing.

Jon's mind must've been playing tricks on him. Damian would NEVER let anyone get that
close to him, he'd find it illogical to be out here in the cold to begin with!

But his friend was there, dancing so gracefully Jon though he was watching a movie with a
prince and a princess. When the music stopped, Jon heard Yelena's own surprised gasp as
Brooklyn was raised from the dip in Damian's arms.

Damian was....smiling.

One look at Yelena trying to repress her own shock, and Jon knew he was not seeing things.

They were about to kiss...NO WAY! Damian looked confused, angry even, but his forehead
met Brooklyn's, those cold eyes softening as Jon's friend slowly leaned down until their lips
were a centimeter away.

Jon was holding his breath, so was Yelena by the sounds of it, then the crowd inside broke
into excited screams that send both their friends moving away from one another.

Jon was incredibly confused. He thought that Damian only cared about Brook because they
were both assassins and could bond over that. He'd been mostly joking when he was trying to
insinuate that Damian had a crush...but as impossible as it sounded, maybe that wasn't as far
off as he thought.
It made no sense whatsoever, the two always acted like the other was a disease, except when
one of them was in trouble. Jon had witnessed Brooklyn freak out when she thought Damian
was dead, thought he had imagined her holding him in her arms when she realized she was
wrong. Jon had seen Damian actually caring about another human being as much as he cared
about himself when Brook was captured, had seen his friend loose his mind over it.

It was so obvious now as snow fell around them, to see that perhaps the days the two stayed
together in Brook's home had likely not been as torturous as Damian had described them to
be, that maybe Brooklyn did not glare at Damian for the sake of anger either.

Holy....no mom said not to curse...

Wow. Just wow.

Jon knew he wouldn't be able to talk to Damian about this, one mention of it and either Jon
would end up with a katana at his throat, or his friend would deny it all and keep a distance
from Brooklyn just to prove a point.

At least he could share the secret of this event with Yelena, otherwise being the only one that
knew about it would drive him nuts.

But he wasn't the only one there with Yelena, Jon just didn't know that.

The appearance of the half-kyrpotnian actually scared a few prying eyes away.

Further out into the yard, near a cluster of large bushes, were the quickly retreating figures of
of the Wayne siblings.

Though they'd all mastered stealth years ago, some were stumbling messes as they tried to
hold back their screams, like Stephanie, Dick, and Jason. Others, like Tim, Barbara, and Cass,
were rather lost in their own confusion.

They had come to spy on Damian to see if he'd at least try to be civil with his arranged date.
They'd had little hope of their ship interacting at all, but then the kids left the gym, then they
danced, smiled, watched their brother have some sort of mental debate, then almost witnessed
his first kiss!

Then they noticed Jon, and knew that if they stayed, the teen would hear them and report to
Damian, so they scrammed like rats in a sewer.

But they weren't the only ones startled by the sight of the half-kryptonian, knowing that
person would be able to hear the intrusion.

There was someone else keenly aware of the kryptonian, enough to snap out of her confused
trance and leave the roof across the gym she'd been at, collecting her high resolution
binoculars on the way.

It was as she was leaving, that Natasha Romanoff fully registered what she had seen.
She'd originally gone to spy on the dance to make sure Yelena stayed in line, to quell the
worries of the other Avengers in case the Joker tried to target Brook again. But she was not
expecting to see such a sight.

Natasha prided herself in not being easily startled, on being smart enough to read a person
clearly like an open book within seconds, figure out any and all secrets.

But, she'd never imagined seeing Brooklyn peacefully with a Wayne. Dancing. Smiling.
Laughing. Looking more at ease with that boy than anyone else in the world.

Then she'd seen them almost share a kiss...that look they gave one another...that look.

Not only was Brooklyn friends with a Stark enemy, the son of Batman, an assassin from the
League....but there was something between them that perhaps those two had yet to realize.

Most importantly, Natasha realized she had made a terrible mistake...

She'd told the Avengers that Brook had a crush on Peter, something they were now adamant
in setting up. Meetings...actual meetings in a conference room had been held about setting
those two up. Perhaps Brook though she had a crush on Peter, perhaps she actually did, but
what Natasha had witnessed she'd though impossible.

As she ran down the roof, quickly sliding down a pipe and covering herself with the shadows
of the football field until she made it to her car, Natasha realized she was sitting on a big
secret.

Tony could most definitely not know about this, no one could. Even those that though little of
the Stark/ Wayne rivalry, even they were not overly fond of Batman and his long line of
Robins.

It was with cold realization that Natasha drove back to the compound clutching her steering
wheel as she registered that whatever was going on with Brook and the young Wayne...it was
something too strong to break apart.

After a nice long talk, Brooklyn realized Damian still had a date to get back to, she was on
her way to do gey up when some kid ran out the side door, nervously looking around until he
caught sight of Brooklyn and Damian.

The two teens quickly stepped away from one another, and in one swift movement Brooklyn
returned the jacket across her arms, giving it back to its owner.

It seemed the kid was looking for them, though he did not look familiar in the least. He was
searing a suit for the dance, but his eyes were wide, and he had a few boxes in hand.

When he finally stopped before them, Brook was already thinking of excuses to their being
out here together, but the kid did not seem the least bit interested in that as he mumbled
something about looking for them all over school.

Then he handed over two small boxes, one to her and one to Damian.
"Sorry to bother you, but one of the chaperones told me to find you two and Yelena and give
you these. I think you guys won a raffle or something" the kid said, brown hair full of
snowflakes by now, rosy cheeks and innocent eyes letting Brook know he was no threat.

The box in her hand might just be.

Before she could insist he leave the other box out here and leave quickly in case it was a
bomb, because as far as Brook knew there was no raffle, Jon and Yelena stepped out of a
different door, looking relieved as they found Brook and Damian.

The sweet boy handed over Yelena's package, then Damian made sure to scare the kid into
leaving before the four went out further into the woods around the back of the school,
knowing that whatever was in those boxes meant only for the three ex-assassins couldn't be
anything good.

Jon made quick work going back inside to get Peter and Ned, and Brooklyn hoped they
wouldn't hate her too much for having to leave their partners for a while.

Despite the still falling snow, the cold picking up, the three assassins stared down at the
boxes in hand, Yelena being given Jon's jacket while Damian placed his own back around her
shoulders. If this was a bomb, they'd all get warm very fast, but she at least appreciated the
effort.

It was not a coincidence that Brook and Yelena had similar boxes, both black with a red
hourglass seal they knew far too well. Damian's was golden with green embellishments that
looked to be made out of emeralds.

Elegant, like a cottage made of candy for foolish children to get eaten in.

Jon could not see what was inside with his x-ray vision, and when Ned and Peter finally
showed up, the six tried to wage what to do. Ned had argued they should call the bomb
squad, but deep down the three assassins knew exactly what these boxes were.

Every assassin out of commission or away on mission would receive one today, even if they
were retired or undercover, this was more important than that.

That Yelena had gotten one meant that the inevitable had occurred, Ivan had found out she
was here as well, something they had been willing to risk to give the blonde a normal life, but
this was still a chilling reminder.

After looking at one another, the three urged the rest to step back as they began opening the
boxes slowly. Once Brooklyn peeked inside the lid, she wanted to throw it on the ground, get
rid of it instantly but she forced her limbs to hold on to it.

There, inside the dark cavern of her box, was a bloody heart. It was still beating, supplied by
a small tank of oxygen that kept it alive. Beside it was a bloody note, and one peek at Yelena,
and the Stark knew a heart and similar note were inside her own box as well.
Their note written in Russian, the one Damian fished out of his own box in Arabic by the
looks of it. All three were stained with blood, and one peek at his own box, and Brooklyn
realized it was not a beating heart it contained, but a dead bird within, a Robin.

"What do they say?" Jon asked, flying over to them with Peter and Ned in tow. The three
stepped back in fear when they beheld the hearts and the dead bird, the stench of both filling
the space around them.

Brooklyn was shaking too, not in fear of the heart but rather the place it had come from. Still,
she steeled her nerves and read the word she'd been dreading since she saw the hourglass
symbol of the Black Widow Program, of the Red Room.

She translated out loud, "It just says it's time, signed by...by Ivan"

Yelena frowned, wiping the fallen snow on her own letter with disgust, "Mine too"

Damian glared at his own before crumpling it in his fist.

"Mine is relatively the same" Dami said, but by the troubled look in his eyes, however well
hidden, Brook could tell exactly who'd written his own letter. Talia al Ghul, his mother.

"What does it mean by it's time? Why would two assassin places send the same thing?" Peter
asked, making to lean forward to read the letter in Brook's hand, but seemed to think better of
it when he heard the heart beating in her other hand.

Brooklyn sighed deeply, "This is a call for war. A war between assassins"

"I can find it possible that Ivan found out I'm not dead by now, considering how much time I
spend around Brooklyn, but why send us this?" Yelena asked, using a small knife hidden in
the folds of her dress to stab the heart, keep it from beating much longer.

"Maybe that's why he wants me back after all" Brooklyn mused, "he wants me to fight, and
apparently, he wants you back as well Yelena"

"Question is, who is the Red Room fighting?" Damian added, letting his box fall to the
ground, "and is the League of Assassins fighting with Ivan, or against him?"

There were so many assassin guilds around the world, even if the Red Room and the League
of Assassins held the most power, or had once been like that at least...it was possible they
were finally at war...

"Well, what do we do?" Jon asked, looking around nervously for any prying eyes.

Damian huffed angrily, pocketing the letter from his mother inside his trouser pocket while
looking around their group.

"Nothing" Dami said, "We have our own war with the Joker, this doesn't concern us, and if
the assassins are at war, they won't have time to drag us into it"

Brooklyn frowned, "Won't your mother come for you?"

Only Yelena, Jon, and Brooklyn knew who his mother was, they knew the League might
want its heir to fight just as much as Ivan likely wanted his back.

"She can try, but I suspect she would assume I'd want to go. Foolish." Damian said, "My
father can deal with her if she comes to Gotham, but I have no intent on going"

A war between assassin guilds was rare, practically unheard of. For a brief moment, Brook
wondered if Nat had received a little package as well, and if she hadn't somehow, what did
that mean for Brook and Yelena?

Whatever was going on with the assassins, perhaps it wasn't all bad.

"This can be a good thing" Brooklyn said, "With a war going on, Ivan will be too busy to
come try and get us by force. We might get some peace on that front, just being able to focus
on the Joker"

Relieved nods went around the circle they'd created, and it didn't take long for them to find a
place to burry the hearts and bird, letting Jon burn the boxes with his limited ability to use
laser vision.

Once that was taken care of, everyone went back to their dates, trying to act as if nothing had
occurred, just as they'd agreed. Everyone was still weary for the rest of the night, but they
decided to stick together since.

Brook was actually the one who sent a quick text to the Avengers as Jon contacted the Justice
League, and Damian his family back in Gotham. They had agreed to tell the adults if only
because it was useful, it could explain the possibly as to why the Red Room had alien
weapons in the first place after all. They had likely bought them for this war...

By the end of that, MJ and Peter were off dancing again, blushing and staring at one another
like there was nothing else in the room. Luckily, Tanya was not sulking in the least, she was
with Raven, looking like she was having the time of her life.

Jon and Brooklyn almost lost it when they saw Tanya sneak a quick kiss to the half-demon
girl when the last dance of the night ended. It was clear those two hit it off, and as Harry
pointed out, that Tanya had an obvious type.

Ned had tried to find some signs that there was a war between assassins going on in the
world, but came up empty, and eventually took his date to dance just as Yelena and Jon had
done to cool their nerves.

Brook and Damian stayed at the table, seemingly busy on their phones when they were
actually texting one another. They were both heirs of their assassin guilds, and such
representatives were usually big parts of a war, something the two had been downplaying for
the others.

They knew staying here was not safe, but perhaps that little problem had already been solved
for them. Next week, they'd both be off to Wakanda for business.
Arguably, there was no safer place to be than the most technologically advanced country of
the world.

Damian seemed annoyed at the prospect of 'running away', but they both knew that this little
educational trip might be the only thing that could save them from being kidnapped in their
sleep.

That night, after Harry's limousine dropped everyone off, the group decided to keep an eye on
Brook, Damian, and Yelena as an additional safety measure.

Brooklyn blasted all of her apartment's defenses and swore to keep Peter on speed dial should
trouble come to her door. Jon and Damian were staying together in Metropolis that night, and
since Nat texted that she was aware of the issue, Yelena stayed with sestra for the night.

Damian had still texted her for most of the night, the two of them far too worried to sleep. In
fact, her best friend was able to distract her by saying something quite unusual.

I enjoyed our evening together my beloved, despite the call to war.

I did too. Brooklyn had replied honestly.

After a long pause, Damian had asked, Are you upset Parker was with Jones most of the
night?

Honestly, Brooklyn had barely thought about it. She'd gotten so lost dancing with Damian,
then the war call came, plus something about realizing Peter would never look at her the way
he did at MJ...it had kept all feelings of jealousy at bay.

Even now, she was just happy Peter had gotten what he wanted.

No. I know human behavior states I should be swimming with jealousy, but its just not there.
I had fun with everyone, and I'm glad we got to see the first snow of the year together.

His reply had taken quite a while, but when it did arrive, Brooklyn had to read it twice.

I wouldn't mind seeing next years first snow by your side beloved, and you'd deserve better
than Parker, he is a cretin for not being by your side. Find someone else.

Find someone else? As if it were that easy...

It was not Peter's fault he could not return her odd feelings anyways.

Still, is strange command was endearing in some way, and the two ended their conversation
with the promise of seeing next years snow together, no matter what.

It wasn't until the next morning that everyone was able to breathe a little easier, they were
actually able to recount the wonderful and happy events of the dance with little gloom to add.

Brook had enjoyed being with her friends, had despised the punch, and really liked dancing
with Damian if only for a little while. The two of them actually had a laugh in History class
when he mentioned his father had talked to Raven yesterday to make sure the dance had gone
well.

Raven had been very happy with going to the dance, and though both teens knew it was
because of Tanya (who couldn't stop gushing about the purple haired girl either), Bruce
Wayne had assumed Damian had done a wonderful job to make her feel happy.

Ah, Bruce Wayne, what an idiot.

 A Getaway to Wakanda
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

"Is this such a good idea with all thats happening?"

Dad smirked, "Just because an assassin sent you a friend request to go to war doesn't mean
you have to put your life on hold. Besides, if Ivan tries to get to you, he won't be able to do it
in Wakanda. That's the safest place you'll be"

She knew he was right, was aware Damian had already made up his mind and was on his way
as well, with Jon tagging along as his guest. Though Harry had bailed last minute because of
his duties as captain of the football team, Brooklyn suspected some of the other heirs she'd
met during family day would be going.

A chance to make more friends, or so mom had said.

It just felt odd going away for a week, missing a week of school with her friends after they
had just reunited. She knew they wouldn't be in trouble with Agent Claire on extreme
vigilance, but the worry was there.

Yesterday, Brooklyn had decided that instead of taking Peter to Wakanda, she'd use her extra
invite to take Yelena away for her safety. SHIELD wasn't happy, but Fury approved the leave
only because Steve Rogers was joining them, not as an intentional bodyguard (he was not
part of the 'Innovation for the future' experience).

Steve had also chosen to bring Wanda so she could get to know the place as he took care of
some business. Though Wanda and Steve were on house arrest, Fury had been able to get the
leave approved under the excuse of them being bodyguards for the Ivan targeted girls.

That had surprisingly worked.

The three of them were already waiting out in the courtyard of the compound, luggage in
hand. Brooklyn still hesitated at the entrance of the compound, looking back at her mom and
dad, Harley standing between them.

She knew they would be safe too, that dad had some simple missions these next few days,
and mom would be doing company work at the compound. Harley was in good hands too,
Peter had sworn to look out for her little brother.

Maybe it was just the thought of going far away from them that worried Brooklyn, she cared
about her family more than anything after all. If something were to happen to them while she
was away...
"Just go have fun" mom sad, stepping forward to bring Brook into a tight hug, "This is a
learning experience after all. The event is sort of like an internship, a way to establish
connections with Wakanda and ensure the heirs of companies understand what kind of
change they want to take part of, not profit, but something better for the world and those in
need. Think of it as a mission, not a vacation"

That did make Brooklyn feel less guilty.

This was her first overseas job for the company, and Brooklyn would push all worries aside
to make sure she could do it right.

That's when a peculiar jet landed on the front lawn. It looked nothing like Brooklyn had ever
seen in SHIELD, rounder, somehow more agile. It touched down with little fuss, and when
the back opened, a woman in traditional red attire came out, holding a spear of sorts, she even
had intricate tattoos on her bald head.

It wasn't until Brooklyn hugged her parents and sibling one more time and joined the others
that she realized that spear was made of pure vibranium, and that the dark skinned woman
was nothing but strength and muscle, face passive as she made some sort of greeting with her
arms crossed on her chest.

When the teen saw Wanda and Grandpa Steve returning the greeting, it only took a small
heartbeat for Brook and Yelena to follow.

In her defense, Brook had tried doing some research on Wakanda for this trip, she and Yelena
had stayed up last night trying to research with Damian and Jon on video call. Unfortunately,
most of the information found online was still from before the country decided to reveal its
true colors.

All Brooklyn knew for certain is that the previous king of Wakanda had been killed at the
United Nations submit in Vienna to try and ratify the Sokovia Accords that brought so much
internal fighting amongst the Avengers. Some assassin (that had later proved to be innocent)
had blown up the place and killed the Wakandan king.

Now the young man Brook had seen at Family Day was the new king, and he had very
recently decided to make a change, one in which they revealed their technology, mass
amounts of vibranium, and the Black Panther's identity.

At least this trip wouldn't be boring...

The woman friendly introduced herself as Ayo, part of the Dora Milaje, an elite group of
female bodyguards, Wakandan special forces, and the king's guard. Steve greeted her with
kindness, proceeding to ask about the well being of the king and princess as they boarded the
flying jet that looked much more elegant from the inside.

It was large, spacious, with a table in the middle that, was that sand atop the table? Maybe
decoration?
Brooklyn still looked out a nearby window as soon as she settled one of the comfortable
seats, watching her family wave as the ship ascended, which she only knew was happening
because her family was getting smaller. Inside, it felt as if nothing had happened, even when
they moved at fasts speeds towards their destination.

Ayo was sitting crosslegged by the front of the ship piloting it, not with a steering wheel of
sorts, but a sort of holographic system. It was mesmerizing.

Yelena was silent beside Brooklyn, keeping her eyes down below as if she was waiting for
trouble. She was clutching her sweatshirt tightly and her quick bun looked about ready to
collapse.

Brook knew Yelena was more than a little worried about the Red Room package from the
Yule dance, that some part of her was afraid of being taken back not because it would likely
mean a traitor's death (Black Widows did not fear death) but because it would be saying
goodbye to this life.

Though Yelena would likely never admit it, Brook knew she and Jon were creating some sort
of trust bond. The blonde would no longer threaten the boy with death since the dance, and
when Natasha had asked about it yesterday, Yelena might've gotten little flustered with her
words.

Then again, Natasha had grilled both girls on details, enough so that Brooklyn almost felt
bead about lying of only dancing with Peter.

"Jon will be coming with us" Brooklyn said, carefully to keep quiet enough that Steve and
Wanda wouldn't hear from their place seated before them, "You have nothing to worry about"

Yelena ripped her gaze from the windows, breathed a sigh, and replied with a nod as she let
he head fall back on the seat.

"You sound confident all will go well, since when are you the optimist sestra ? Does the
Wayne coming with us have anything to do with that?" Yelena asked.

Brooklyn was momentarily stunned.

"What do you mean?"

Yelena looked towards Steve and Wanda who were busy in a conversation of their own.

The blonde shook her head, merely stating, "You and the Wayne may despise one another, but
you are an effective team when it comes to fighting others. I'm merely saying that with the al
Ghul, you seem more at ease"

Damian was her best friend, and him coming along did make her relax a bit more, not
because they would be able to fight more effectively together if trouble showed up, but
because in Wakanda, his mother couldn't get to him.

Brook debated telling the truth then.

Damian and Brooklyn had originally decided to keep the secret of their friendship from even
their friends because they were not sure who else to trust with it. But as of late, Brook truly
felt that her group of friends had become a little family, people she could trust, perhaps not
with some of the things she and Damian shared and talked about, but enough that sharing
their friendship might be a good thing.

Jon would not judge, Peter likely wouldn't either, the two of them always rambled about
wanting the two heirs to get along. Yelena and Brook had reached some sort of understanding
by now, a small friendship that could secure secrecy from Natasha. Ned was not exactly the
most enthusiastic about keeping secrets, but he'd yet to say something he wasn't supposed to.

If they told the team, maybe Brook would get to just be Damian's friend more hours during
the day, it certainly would be less exhausting than pretending to glare and snap and the
Wayne all the time.

Maybe once they landed, Brook would talk to him about it.

******

Though the kingdom of Wakanda was a small isolationist landlocked country located in
Africa, surrounded by mountain ranges and a thick forest, it did not take nearly as long to
arrive as Brooklyn had estimated.

Soon she was standing on a landing area of Birnin Zana, the large capital city, the place now
considered to be the most technologically advanced nation of the planet....

It truly was a sight to behold.

The buildings around the royal's home were tall and beautiful decorated with African styles
or architecture with a blend of modern techniques. There was color everywhere, technology
far beyond her understanding as trains that seemed to levitate passed by, more ships like the
one Brook had arrived in docking around them.

But one of the first things Brooklyn noted upon stepping outside was not the country's beauty,
but the unfamiliar heat. It was already snowing in New York, and Brook's party was dressed
in warm attire that they quickly shed as the blazing sun greeted them.

Almost as soon as they all gathered their luggage and thanked Ayo, Steve and Wanda excused
themselves to go see the king, apparently, Brook and Yelena would have to wait out here for
the rest of the 'students' to arrive.

It didn't take very long for a pair of familiar faces to emerge, also in warm attire they quickly
shed. Damian and Jon had their eyes on the buildings around them, but as if he could sense
them, Jon quickly turned around and dragged Damian over to them.

Kent did not hesitate to pull Yelena into a quick hug, then Brooklyn into one that ended up
lifting her off the ground. They had been working their way to longer embraces, and the Stark
had no doubt Yelena would soon be the one lifted off the ground by the rate their friendship
was evolving.

Damian and Brooklyn exchanged a simple nod, though she took the chance to send him a
wink when Jon turned around to show Yelena some building he found fascinating.

It seemed that all the ships had coordinated to arrive around the same time, because soon the
landing area was full of two dozen or so kids.

Some she recognized, like Richard Reeds' kid, the mutant. He was already with a group of
older teens, talking as if they'd known one another since birth.

Mia Queen was there too, the daughter of Oliver Queen from Star City, an acquaintance of
the Waynes. The blonde girl did not make to stand by Damian through, she kept to herself,
seemingly unbothered by all around her as she talked to the tall guy she'd brought as her
companion.

To hers and Damian's pleasure, Lex Jr. truly hadn't been invited, which was a small blessing
in itself.

Before anyone could try and introduce themselves, the Dora Milaje standing diligently
around the teens brought their spears down twice agains the ground, a loud sound resonating
from the action around them as if indicating something.

Brooklyn soon realized why...

A woman in white was stepping forward, dressed so beautifully that Brook could only guess
that was the Queen mother of Wakanda. Beside her, a familiar teen was dressed much more
casually, but there was no doubt by her confidence and shared smiles with the Queen that it
was Shuri, the princess of Wakanda.

They were escorted by two Dora Milaje, but looked relatively relaxed as they stopped before
the gathered crowd. Unsure what to do, Brook saw a few teens bow and curtsy, so she and
Yelena followed suit, with Jon practically having to shove Damian into a bow.

The princess chucked at their reverence, only stopping when her mother shot the teen a
reprimanding look. The queen was kind as she asked everyone to rise, introducing herself and
her daughter, as well as thanking them all for coming.

Shuri locked eyes with Brook then in recognition, and shot the Stark a quick wave.

Brooklyn did not get to return the gesture as they were all led inside the building and into a
large elevator that guided them to a very large hallway full of paintings of Kings and Queens
past.

Brook walked beside Damian by the front of the group, examining all the royals and the
Black Panthers from times past. There was so much luxury, culture, history...

At the end of the hall, the teens stepped into a throne room of sorts with an elegant chair in
the middle of a half crescent circle of chairs before a pit of red sand. It seemed humble but
lavish at the same time, plus the of the city in the windows at the end of the room was a
wonder of its own.

Everyone stopped to behold the king of Wakanda, a handsome young man dressed in a suit
with little embellishments of African designs at the cuffs and collar line. He wore no crown,
not that he needed it with the presence he seemed to carry.

T'Challa was strong, confident, and above all, Brooklyn actually managed to spot some
similarities in him to those of his ancestors in the paintings they'd spotted in the main hall.

To her surprise, the King flashed them all a gentle smile, urging his council to stand as well.

Again, everyone was clueless as to how to greet the royals, so they all just clumsily bowed,
this time it had been Brook's turn to nudge Damian into doing so.

She knew him better now that to think the Wayne just relished in being impolite, Damian just
despised showing weaknesses.

The king did not seem to notice a thing though, he greeted them all with a smile, introducing
them as the future the world was counting on. Brook felt a brief flash of panic at the words,
even when they were likely supposed to be reassuring and flattering.

Damian must've sensed it, because he gave her a discrete nod, one Yelena and Jon copied. It
was a silent promise that if the well being of the world would be in Damian's and Brook's
hands, its safety would not have to be a lonely burden, they were a team after all.

A team that stuck together as the princess proceeded to show all of them around what they
called the 'public areas' of their home. There were large rooms for meetings and parties,
smaller rooms that were used that day to hold 'school-like' lessons on the country and its
vibranium.

Because Jon insisted on sitting next to Yelena every 'class', Brooklyn and Damian had the
perfect excuse to sit beside one another, but unlike in history class, they did not spent it
passing notes to one another. This was new information, important matters that made both the
Stark and Wayne pay as much attention as possible.

Not only were they being taught about all the wonderful and useful things vibranium could
do, but Brook was surprised that the dangerous uses of the metal were also brought up. As
future heirs of companies, it was their duty to decide whether they'd be willing to make trade
deals with Wakanda, to accept the responsibility of knowing they were dealing with
something that could change lives for the good of many, if they chose the 'darker' path...lets
just say the Wakandan scientist made it very clear there would be consequences.

Between that, going to a mess hall to eat exquisite traditional food, and being shown the rest
of the palace, Brooklyn almost collapsed on her bed by the afternoon, barely noting each teen
was given a separate bedroom.

It wasn't until she took a few breaths that she realized the room was incredibly elegant,
especially since it was just a mere guest bedroom. Its color scheme was mostly blacks, grays,
slivery tones, and metal accents. But there were sparks of color scattered around, in paintings
of textile designs, the whole ceiling looking like a dark sea of swirling purple that could
likely only be achievable thanks to vibranium.

There was a balcony in her room, and though Brook was likely twenty floors up from the
ground, the height did not seem overwhelming as she looked out at the beauty of the city
beyond.

There were drums playing in the distance even if she could barely hear them.

There was a gentle cooling breeze on her skin, chasing away the heat of the day.

The simplicity to Wakanda, even when its technology was beyond the bounds of what Brook
had thought possible, the people she'd met, even just in passing, had been kind and
welcoming, not one person seemed like they were faking their joy.

A true wonder indeed.

After turning on the TV to some Wakandan music station, Brooklyn finally noted that there
was a pile of clothes neatly folded on the cozy end-of-bed bench. The teen moved away from
the balcony, past the gentle blue flowing curtains to scan the items left for her.

Apparently, someone had likely guessed everyone would bring winter clothes for the trip like
fools, and they had been nice enough to lend these. Most of the outfits were one piece
pantsuits, only loose and patterned with bright colors and designs common in Africa.

Some had thin straps to hang around the neck, but due to her scars, Brooklyn opted to wear
the ones with full backs and sheer sleeves. Though there were some dresses in the mix, the
teen stuck to the jumpsuits, the simple sandals, and even took a liking to many of the thin
cotton pajamas laid out as well.

But then, at the bottom of the pile was a bracelet made out of black beads with symbols
Brook had seen around the palace and in all rooms. It was the Wakandan language no doubt.

The Stark had seen almost everyone wearing one of those bracelets today, and after reading
the note attached to it, she realized it was more than jewelry.

It was a communication device amongst other things for sure, but the instructions said to
wear it during the stay, that it would help unlock access to rooms, provide information, and
even created holographic video calls.

Not bad.

Brook hesitated, but ended up placing her Stark watch back in her small luggage bag,
replacing it with the Wakandan Kimoyo Beads above her scarred wrist. They glowed purple
for a few seconds, but eventually settled back down.

She spent some time testing out how they worked, eventually getting test calls from Jon,
Yelena, and Damian. The three actually spent hours trying to figure out how they worked,
and by the time Jon had fallen asleep (even though it was still bright outside), they three ex-
assassins concluded that perhaps only Ned would be able to figure these out in the timespan
of an evening.

A knock came at the door then, and when Brooklyn opened it she was almost startled when it
was the princess who stood on the other side, smiling at the bracelet on Brook's wrist.

Out of all the things Brooklyn had learned today, how to greet the Wakandan royals was not
among them. All Brooklyn could think to do was that greeting from earlier, arms crossed on
her chest.

Shuri seemed happy with that greeting, and though this was her home, she still asked for
permission to enter, request Brooklyn granted. The teen was dressed most oddly, with a tight
white dress, but wearing Nike sneakers. She still looked very inch the right hand of the King,
held a joy and contentment that Brooklyn had just begun to understand these past few
months.

"I remember you from Family Day, the girl who stood up to the man who was ignoring his
son" the princess said causally as she looked around the room.

Brooklyn had been expected to be remembered by her last name, perhaps even by her victory
at the end of the competition...just not that.

"Harry is my friend, his father was...out of line. I had to do something"

The princess smirked, settling on the bed.

"Thats partially why we invited you despite the council's advice that Starks should not be
granted the opportunity to come to this event, because of their background with the Avengers
and the old weapon branch the used to have" Shuri said honestly, "But you fought for the
right thing that day, and though it may not seem like much, your actions that day said a lot
about you and your company's future"

Brooklyn hadn't realized her own invitation held so much controversy, none of the people
she'd spoke to today had seemed unhappy by her presence, much less judgmental by her
family's past. Was that why with any question answered during the lessons, the 'teachers'
seemed unusually pleased with her responses?

Has those questions been a test of her character too?

Brook had proven herself to Stark Industries already, but she hadn't considered that the rest of
the world would test her on that ability as well. Regardless, she didn't feel angry at the
princess or her people, after all...they had no idea they'd let an ex-assassin into their home...
well, three.

"I can see why this was held in the first place, Wakanda is powerful, but there are people who
would use this power for bad things. I will try to prove I'm right for the job during my stay,
Stark Industries is more than capable of doing right by an alliance" Brook said, earning a
smile from the princess.
"I know" Shuri said, pushing back locks of her braided hair as she added calmly, "I've been
told you were quite interested in using vibranium for medical purposes, that you suggested
many uses to help the disabled"

Ah, that.

Brooklyn had been curious mostly because of the improvements she was making for Barbara
Wayne's brace, but also for the medical branch Stark Industries was starting.

Shuri spent the next hour showing Brooklyn all the ways in which vibranium could be used
further than what had been explained today, how it reacted with the body, and how it could be
molded and shaped for improvements of the brace.

Not only was the princess incredibly smart, but the limits of vibranium were near endless.

It was a nearly indestructible element, one that crash landed as a meteorite from outer space
millennia ago.

Prior to this, Brooklyn had only know the metal because Steve's shield had been made of the
material, just as Vision's body was. But there was so much it could do...

It was stronger than steel, but only a third of the weight, as well as being completely
vibration absorbent. Any attempt to physically damage the material would be negated on a
molecular level, mechanical/kinetic energy was be absorbed instead of breaking any bonds in
its molecular matrix.

Shuri had worked with the metal for years, had lived with it as part of her life since birth, and
now she was the person in this country that knew the material best.

She's been the one to use vibranium's deflects of kinetic energy to their limits, figured out its
magnetic properties long before dad had implemented that knowledge so that Steve's shield
could return to his arm by using a magnetic device.

That could be useful....

Brooklyn spent hours learning about how vibranium was sown it into their clothes, implanted
into their bodies as tattoos, and used as a power source for the advanced technologies of their
city.

The metal could actually conduct electricity, something Brooklyn was hoping she could use
to improve her gauntlets.

All that knowledge, it made Brooklyn appreciate the country more, see further beauty in their
lifestyle.

"You and your people are perhaps right to keep your barriers up, if people knew all the uses
of your metal, then the peace of your home could end" Brooklyn said somberly, staring out
into the bright blue sky beyond her balcony.
 Shuri shrugged, "I wouldn't say Wakanda is in peace, not when we just had a civil war for
power recently. There are still rebels out there who want Wakanda to be something else, led
by a person with a different vision. That's why mother was so hesitant to host this event"

So there were bad apples in the golden tree...

"Were YOU hesitant to host the event?"

The princess looked out at her city, the country beyond.

"No, Wakanda is strong, we can protect ourselves and still do some good outside our
kingdom"

"Something tells me you're right" Brook mused, truly hoping this place remained the way it
was now, that it could do the good it hoped for.

Thats when another knock came at the door, and a familiar face peeked into the room only to
see Brook and Shuri sitting on the bed, a dozen holograms around them full of knowledge.

He looked a little bashful when coming in, greeting the princess with familiarity.

"I suspect the talk with my brother went well?" Shuri asked Steve, to which the man nodded,
looking significantly less worried that he'd been on their way to Wakanda.

Dare she say, Grandpa Steve looked happy.

"Thank you so much for all you have done" Steve said to the teen beside Brook, looking
close to tears until he turned to the Stark, opening and closing his mouth as if he were
debating saying something.

He ran a hand through his beard nervously.

"Brook, I was told you were done with duties for today, and I'd like to introduce you to
someone, if you're open to it" Steve said, eyeing the blazing sun outside.

Brooklyn hadn't been expecting to meet anyone else, but Steve had been talking to the King,
perhaps T'Challa wanted to see if Brooklyn was worthy of being an ally as well.

She stood up, smiling in thanks to the princess before excusing herself with a Wakandan
salute.

Guess it was time to truly meet the King...only it wasn't.

Chapter End Notes

This chapter talked a bit about vibranium because it will be important in the future! Now
that Wakanda is getting ready to open up to the world, its resources will be important.
Perhaps even in fighting the alien weapons....*wink, wink*.

I've already shown a special appearance by Loki and Thor, now here come another
familiar face for the marvel fans....enjoy.
 The White Wolf

Brooklyn POV-

They had ventured out of the palace, taken one of the Wakandan Maglev Trains out of the
main city and ended up in the outskirts full of grasslands. This seemed to be the place people
once thought Wakanda to truly be, a rural country with textiles as their only form of trade.

It was peaceful out here, and none of the running animals payed them any mind, as if they
were used to human company and had found some form of comfort from it. Brooklyn wasn't
sure what she was doing all the way out here or who could possibly be all the way here to
meet.

Damian would've loved to come here though, spend time with the various animals, visit the
small farms.

Brooklyn was more interested in the small village close by, with children running around,
Wakandan's tending to their livestock, even some washing clothes at a nearby river.

Brooklyn wondered why they were not in the main city, figured that perhaps Grandpa Steve
had brought her out here not to meet someone, but as a lesson on humility. Her theory had
been proven wrong when they approached one of the huts by the river's edge, one the other
villagers seemed to shy away from.

The sun was still shining up above them, a small comfort against the unknown.

Perhaps she truly wasn't here to meet the king after all, why would he be doing all the way
out here in a clay home? But King T'Challa had seemed very 'down to earth' when she saw
him at Family Day, perhaps this was his getaway?

Grandpa Steve stood before the hut, nervously running a hand through his beard, the other
along his blonde locks. He was dressed in causal attire, a simple tight shirt and some jeans,
which at least meant they weren't walking into a fight of any sort.

Still, Brooklyn reached into the pocket of her bright patterned loose pants where she kept her
Stark watch out of sight just in case it was needed.

Seeming to see her unease, Steve moved to stand before her, hands on her arms as he pleaded
softly, "Look, I need you to keep an open mind today, Brook"

Open mind?

"Why?" she asked, suddenly very aware of how serious the Captain looked.

"This isn't exactly easy to explain" Steve said, "Tony and I fought about this for days, but I
think you deserve to meet him"
Before she could question who this supposed him could be, a man emerged from the hut, tall,
dressed in Wakandan traditional clothes like Brooklyn was. He was fair skinned, with
shoulder length brown hair, and...one of his arms was missing.

Interesting.

WAS this one of Steve's ways to teach her kindness, bringing her over to help the wounded?

Though said man was clearly missing an arm, he looked anything but helpless, he was well
built, very handsome of course, but there was a weariness in his eyes when he stepped out of
the hut, even if it was gone the second he saw Steve.

Both men met in the middle, rushing into an embrace and patting one another's backs with
familiarity. They whispered things to one another, laughed...seemed genuinely acquainted,
even if it seemed like they hadn't seen one another in a long time.

Yet the stranger seemed genuinely surprised to see Steve, a kind of lost puppy look in his
brown eyes.

Why had dad argued with grandpa Steve to meet this guy?

The man noticed her then, looking over Steve's shoulder, hesitantly asking who she was.
Brooklyn wasn't sure if she should step up and introduce herself, but some part of her was
still weary by dad's unease.

Surely there had to be a reason.

"This is Brooklyn...Brooklyn Stark" Grandpa Steve said, motioning for her to step forward as
the stranger's eyes went from panicked to really confused.

"I had no idea Stark had a daughter...that Howard... that he had a granddaughter"

Brooklyn was momentarily struck with her own confusion.

Howard? Howard her grandfather? What an odd thing to bring up since he seemed younger
than dad was.

Yet, whoever this man was, he was acquaintances with Grandpa Steve, important enough to
warrant such a controversial visit. So instead of clutching her Stark watch, she made to stand
beside Steve, pinning her hair behind an ear to guard agains the wind, then extended a hand.

The man took it, his handshake was firm even when the sorrow in his eyes was still there, just
barely visible to Brook.

She chuckled then, "You must be really disconnected from the world out here to not
recognize me, but to your defense dad didn't know I existed until a few months ago. How do
you know my dad?"

Both men went tense, with Steve awkwardly ushering Brooklyn side the small hut, seating
her on a small table in the middle of the simple room. It only had a bed, a basin, and some
little trinkets.

It was very cool though, a retrieve from the sun's rays that seemed so different from the
current snow back in New York.

Realizing her question hadn't been answered, Brooklyn asked it again as both men made to sit
on the other side of the small table, their frames almost identical in muscle size that made the
table seem all the smaller.

"Brook, this is my friend, Bucky. Bucky Barnes" Steve explained, pointing to the man who
was nervously serving tea from a clay pot, avoiding her eyes.

"I had no idea you had friends outside the compound" Brooklyn mused, "Is he with
SHIELD?"

"No" the super soldier replied wearily, "He was a former officer of the 107th Infantry
Regiment, and my childhood friend"

Childhood friend? How can the 100ish year old man have a childhood friend that didn't look
like a raisin right about now. This man looked to be in his late 20s!

That was impossible....unless.

Now that she looked at him up close...he did look very familiar. In fact, he looked very much
like like the soldier from Steve's exhibit at the museum.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes if she recalled correctly, but that was...well... impossible. If
Brook recalled anything from history lessons back at school, it was that Steve's right hand
man had died during a mission back in the 40s, something tragic that ended up fueling
Grandpa Steve to finish the war.

How did he look so young? Granted, this man looked worn mentally, but physically he was
as fit as Steve, a feat not easily achievable...

"Was he turned into a super soldier like you?" she asked, trying to put the puzzle together
with only half the pieces in hand.

Steve had a pained, far away look in his eyes then, so much so that his friend used that
remaining hand to clutch Steve's arm in support.

"Bucky was captured by HYDRA long ago, he was...given a super serum yes, but he was
frozen in cryogenic stasis for years...he-"

Brooklyn cut him off, finally realizing why dad had been so reluctant to agree to this.

It appeared the SHIELD file stalking from last week had not only alerted her of Loki's
innocence, but of something she should've looked further into when it came to the attack at
United Nations summit in Vienna, which Brooklyn had only browsed briefly due to the fact
that sestra had been there and could've died.
"I saw the SHIELD files, about the...the Winter Soldier. This is the person you got arrested
for helping right? The one who SHIELD and nearly every government is looking for?" Brook
asked, earning a stiff nod from Steve.

It wasn't until she saw Sergeant Barnes flinch, that she realized her poor choice of words. She
knew little of the Winter Soldier, had not cared to know about another dangerous assassin out
on the loose when she already had Ivan to worry about. But from what she read, Brooklyn
could hardly believe the guy accused of over a dozen assassinations in the past fifty years, by
SHIELD records, was this man.

It was an impressive feat, one he did not seem proud of.

Most thought he was a ghost, that the Winter Soldier was an assassin with a mantle handed
down by generations, but here he was, the guy who had killed on HYDRA's orders for years,
who had apparently almost killed the one and only Nick Fury. SHIELD files even said
something about him killing President Kennedy....

It was crazy that the Red Room had never spoken of him given his impressive record that
could rival that of Natasha and Talia Al Ghul, or perhaps he was a ghost for them as well.
The Red Room had once held allegiances with HYDRA, but perhaps this super soldier had
been their own little secret kept hidden from allies.

Like she'd though of earlier, the man who had just served her tea was also the one framed for
the bombing of the Vienna International Centre years ago, a claim he had only been exempt
from once the true culprit had been revealed and turned in by the King of Wakanda and
Brook's dad.

But why did Steve look like he was getting ready to stop a fight?

"I...apologize for bringing that stuff up. I suppose it's nice to meet you?" Brooklyn said
wearily to the stranger, wondering why he looked like he wanted to bolt out of the hut.

She understood wanting to get away from an assassin life, as far as she was concerned, his
past crimes were in the past. He was a WW2 hero, a friend of Grandpa Steve, so there really
was nothing that truly bothered Brook in that instant.

Surely Steve would get that, right?

Mr. Barnes tried to smile, but failed. In an attempt to seem less hostile, Brooklyn took a sip of
her tea, smiling at the rich flavor, but also the fact that she did not detect a single poison. It
had been an unlikely chance of such a thing with Steve around, but nevertheless, she was
pleased this man was not trying to kill her.

When Steve seemed at a loss of words, clearly wanting to say more, his friend took over,
tapping a hand wound in his small cup as he said to Brook.

"I...um...I knew your grandfather. Steve and I both did, he was a friend, an ally during the
war. You...you have his eyes"
Her eyes. Tony Stark's. Howard Stark's eyes too.

"Thanks" Brooklyn said wearily, then turned to the blond with a raised brow, "So thats it?
You wanted me to meet your friend? I swear I won't tell anyone he's here if thats what's
bothering you, but why was dad so upset about this?"

Steve ran a hand through his hair nervously. Before he could say anything, he was stopped by
Barnes who seemed to get ready to say something difficult, something he clearly felt HE had
to say.

"Your dad hates me, for good reason" Bucky said, and when Steve seemed about to argue, the
man continued, "I am responsible for doing something awful to your family, something you
have the right to know and no doubt the reason Steve brought you here for"

Steve nodded solemnly, hands massaging his temples, "You see, I kept the secret from Tony
once, and it caused a rift between us that I don't think will ever get mended...I don't want the
same thing happening between us Brooklyn"

As if she could ever hate him...

Steven Rogers had believed in her at a time when she'd been lost and disappointed in herself.
He'd seen her commit horrors during that first SHIELD training, and still, he went out to talk,
to try and make her feel better.

She owed him much, even more so for all the delicious breakfast meals, the long training
hours, and even the rather unfair morning runs that made her lungs want to quit.

But she WAS curious, Brooklyn had noticed the rift between Steve and her dad long ago,
always wondered if their different views on the Sokovia Accords had been the culprit for
such occasional animosity.

Apparently there was more to the story that she'd been able to guess.

Brooklyn took one more sip of her drink, smiling at both men to try and ease their worries
before saying, "There will never be a rift between us, just tell me what you want to say"

Barnes squared his shoulders, and with solemn eyes he whispered, "I killed Maria and
Howard...I killed your grandparents"

...

So Steve's childhood friend had not died, he'd been turned into the Winter Solder. He'd killed
people for fifty years under their name...but now he was here, with Steve by his side.

Thats were that haunted look came from, why Barnes was brought here for hiding, why he
clearly slept on the ground and not his small cot. That is why the brown haired soldier was
missing an arm where the famous winter soldier metal contraption should be.

This was a broken man haunted by a life he did not choose, a superhuman that unlike Steve,
was given the role unwillingly.
He'd mentioned Howard Stark fondly too, as if they truly had been friends.

Brooklyn had killed many people in her life, likely more than the Winter Soldier was credited
for, and that was just in her youth back in the Red Room, but she could never imagine what it
would be like knowing she was responsible for the death of one of her friends.

What did that do to a person?

"I'm..." darn, it was still so hard to say sometimes..." I'm sorry you went through that, it
must've been unpleasant for lack of a better word"

The man blinked, once, twice.

"You aren't mad?" Barnes asked, Steve relaxing in his seat slightly when Brooklyn finally
leaned back and relished in the aroma of the tea between her hands.

His question was understandable, perhaps she was slightly bothered that she'd not been able
to meet some of her grandparents, but hardly held any sway in her current emotions.

All she felt was understanding.

"I can see why my dad is mad, but I never knew my grandparents, so I guess it doesn't affect
me as much" Brooklyn admitted, then added, "Plus, I know what its like to kill under orders,
I know of your regret. The last person to kill you for vengeance will be me, of that you can
trust me"

Bucky went wide eyed, turning to his friend for an explanation.

Steve shot her a kind smile, one that was perhaps of gratitude as well. Had he been expecting
Brook to jump on the table and kill the poor guy?

"I'm an assassin" Brooklyn clarified, catching the brunet's attention again, "I was trained
since birth as a Russian spy and assassin. I was supposed to kill my dad actually, so I guess
being ordered to kill Starks is something we have in common"

That had been a poor attempt at humor, yet it still brought a smile to his face, however faint.

They spent the next few hours trading stories of their past since Sergeant Barnes seemed
curious by her beginnings, albeit horrified by the concept of a child going through what he
did.

Steve did not interrupt once, likely because he couldn't exactly relate.

The flow of conversation wasn't exactly pleasant, but some part of Brooklyn knew Mr.
Barnes had likely kept all of this to himself for years. Brooklyn knew what it was like to have
someone to talk to about an assassin past, Damian was her rock were that was concerned.
Without the Wayne, Brooklyn might still be burdened with all that pent up suffering inside
herself.
Barnes did not have a Wayne, so perhaps she could help him understand he was not alone.
She stayed there till the sun had gone down, and though she had not shared many of the
horrors of her past, mostly worried Steve would not take well to them, Brook had still made
sure to let the man know he was not alone.

Shed' learned quite a lot from him as well, about how Hydra had once sent him after Steve,
Nat, and Uncle Sam. He was there when SHIELD fell, and it wasn't until then that Barnes
had his memories of the past come back.

Brook wondered how awful that would be, with a simple command, you could turn into your
worst self, follow any order. If you remembered too much, they could just wipe your memory
clean.

Despite his killing of her grandparents, Brooklyn couldn't be more glad the man was here
safely in Wakanda, that he had the space to heal and reflect the way Brook had.

Steve only joined in to the conversation later on when the two men reminisced on tales of
their childhood. Brook learned that there was a time Steve had nothing, his parents dead, and
too scrawny and weak to care properly for himself. Sergeant Barnes, or Bucky as he insisted
on being called, had been there for Captain America long before he took the name.

It was fun hearing about their little adventures from decades ago, to learn they knew one
another so well, best friends in a way Brooklyn could only understand thanks to Damian's
friendship.

They also told her stories of her grandfather, Howard Stark. They had know him when he was
single, a scientist and engineer helping the United States with the war with project Rebirth,
the one that created Captain America.

Apparently, despite dad's distaste for Howard, they had quite a few things in common. They
here both a little self absorbed, confident, incredibly smart, and in many ways, ahead of their
time.

It was ironic really, that Howard Stark had built the vibranium shield Grandpa Steve
possessed, that his granddaughter was sitting in Wakanda, the origin of said metal, with his
two war friends, one of them his killer.

"So you and Grandpa Steve really knew Howard? He sounds like quite the character"
Brooklyn mused, smiling down at the table as she wondered if some of her own traits could
be considered Stark-like.

Bucky stopped chewing his food then, turning to Steve with wide eyes as he mumbled,
"Grandpa Steve?" with some amusement.

That was the first time Brooklyn saw the man smile, widely and unrestrained.

"What? He's old!" Brooklyn explained, which sent the man into a deep chuckle and Grandpa
Steve outside to get more food to escape his embarrassment.
"Oh, I wouldn't laugh if I were you, Sergeant. You're quite old yourself, perhaps you will be
my Grand Uncle from now on" she joked, glad to see another ex-assassin smiling at last.

The man seemed momentarily stunned by her joke, eyes wide.

"You would really consider me as family?" he asked, like it was the stupidest thing in the
world.

It really wasn't, if Brooklyn had learned anything from her family and even Damian's, is that
blood did not define such a word. She had people in her life that where different, some super
humans, other people with magic, assassins. Why not welcome another lonely soul into the
family?

With a nod, Brooklyn made a note to always address Mr. Barnes as family whenever their
lives crossed paths, which would hopefully be a few more times until she had to go back to
New York. Perhaps in time, dad would forgive the Sergeant the way he had Brooklyn.

While Steve was still gone, Bucky asked if there was anything interesting going on with
Steve lately. That was her cue to mention the very obvious yet complicated emotions
America's golden boy had for Brooklyn's sestra.

Bucky had met Nat, mentioned she'd earned that criminal status by letting him and Steve flee
once. All in all, the man seemed to be very passionate about Steve getting involved in a
relationship, trusting Natasha to be the right call even though she was an assassin as well, one
whom Bucky had admitted to almost killing a few times.

"Steve, needs someone to keep in out of trouble" Bucky explained, "that punk will get into
any fight he can if it means getting rid of a bully, at least with that strong dame, Steve stands
a chance of surviving a few more decades"

Brooklyn laughed as the flaps opened, and along with Steve, was the princess of Wakanda.

Brook knew the royals did not bother with reverence, but she still stood from the table to
show her respect.

"I see you have met the white wolf" the princess said as way of greeting, her accent strong
and sure.

Brook would never stopped being amazed at what kind of princess that girl was, they even
though they were both the same age, Shuri seemed smart beyond her years, not bothering
with crowns as one would assume. She led the most impressive technological advancements
of their time, was adored by her people for her openness and sincerity.

Wakanda truly was an amazing place, one which Stark Industries would benefit very well
with having as an ally, Brooklyn might even benefit in having the girl as an ally as well.

It was funny really, there was a time when Brook had been so closed off, but here she was,
welcoming another assassin into her family and pondering on the idea of being friends with a
princess...
It turned out that Shuri was here to accompany Brooklyn back to the sleeping quarters.

Brooklyn had hugged Grandpa Steve goodbye, promising to come by after her various
meetings tomorrow to see Bucky as well. Both men seemed to like the proposition, especially
since Wanda was scheduled to come visit tomorrow as well.

On the way back to the main city, Brooklyn found talking with Shuri was not dull in the least.
If fact, the princess had invited Brook to her lab tomorrow so they could test out some plans
and theories they'd been working up on the way.

When she finally made it back to the sleeping quarters, the Stark was far too energetic to go
rest so early, so she moved further down the hall where she knew her best friend's quarters
were.

Perhaps he wouldn't mind a little bit of company.

Damian POV-

Damian's beloved rested on the edge of his bed, finishing her tale of the man she'd met today.

Though the Wayne had never put much thought into it, he had briefly wondered a few times
what had occurred to the famous Winter Soldier, guessing SHIELD had likely killed him.

But there had been more to the story, a familiarity both he and Brooklyn could relate to.

Mr. Barnes was an assassin, but one that wanted nothing with that past.

It was getting to be very unsettling at how many assassins in the world were starting to see
sense. First Damian, then Brooklyn, followed by Belova and now Barnes. If the assassin
world truly was at war, it was clearly loosing some key players.

In return for her tale, Damian relented some information of his past.

When his grandfather had died, ten year old Damian had been itching for vengeance, almost
killing the murderer a few times.

Then of course he'd been given to father, and Damian had learned that death was not always
the answer. That had been the first time he'd lowered his katanas without killing, the first time
the young Wayne had spared a life.

"What happened to Deathstroke then?" Brooklyn asked, now leaning beside him against the
bed rest.

Damian smirked, "He died as the structure around us collapsed against him, and then likely
drowned him"

Brooklyn chuckled, taking one of his hands into her own so she could look at the Kimoyo
Beads adorning his wrist just like her own.
From what they had learned today, the Kimoyo Beads were common for al citizens of
Wakanda, pieces of advanced communication technology made from Vibranium. An essential
piece of wear around here.

Damian's beloved was tracing the bead in the center, the one called the prime bead, which
provides a lifetime's worth of medical knowledge and given to each individual at birth,
something that might've been useful to both of them many times over now.

Additional beads were added to serve various purposes, like communication or vehicle
control, but Brook and Damian only held those for communication, some no doubt for
tracking, projecting holographic images for their courses and meetings, as well as for
recording purposes.

It was technology father would find interesting, but Drake would be the one drooling over it
for the most part. Unfortunately for Drake, he was not the heir of Wayne Enterprises, and
Damian had enjoyed watching him beg and almost crawl out of his own exhaustion to
demand to be Damian's guest.

Though Jon would gain little from this experience, it had been worth it to invite him, if only
to see Drake collapse on the ground and cry at the news of his lost opportunity to see the
most technologically advanced city in the world.

The thought made him smile enough that Brooklyn asked, "What's got you so happy? Not
that I'm complaining"

Damian noticed Brooklyn's slightly tired eyes then, and despite himself, he did not hesitate to
bring her closer, to let his beloved rest her head on his chest, winding one of their hands
together.

It was no longer an amusement to lay beside her in bed, if anything, Damian would never
admit it out loud, but he'd missed her company like this.

But...only a little bit.

"I'm pleased knowing Drake is practically fuming back home for not being invited to this
place" Damian answer truthfully, not often bothering with lies around her of all people after
all.

Damian felt Brooklyn's chuckle against his chest, noticed her free hand rest against his other
arm as if she were embracing him.

"You truly are evil, Dami. Leaving the golden company child out of this experience, nice
move! Maybe now the rest of us heirs have a chance to beat him!"

Damian smirked, glad to see he'd get no reprimand from her. He even relented a chuckle of
his own, staring up at the glowing ceiling of purple light that seemed to move like snakes.

In truth, his siblings had been acting quite odd lately, giving him unreadable looks, forcing
him into family movie nights to watch romantic films, watching him leave for school with
raised thumbs.

Damian knew his siblings were all idiots, but they'd been more so than usual, even father had
noticed. Perhaps the lack of luck finding the Joker was starting to get to them, either way,
Damian was one wink away from stabbing one of them with a katana.

"What will you do about Mr. Barnes now?" Damian inquired, "Even if you find him innocent,
he still killed your grandparents"

Brook sighed, "I'm honestly not sure there is anything I can do. I don't even know if he wants
to leave Wakanda, I'll probably just end up coming here with Grandpa Steve to visit until dad
caves an offers him refuge at the compound, IF that day ever comes"

Damian's dad had taken the role of Batman as a way to cope and hunt down his parents killer.
Just as father was incapable of forgiveness for that kind crime, he suspected Mr. Stark would
be as well. It was different for the two teens, they'd grown up around death.

Sitting up sightly, Brooklyn's face moved above his own, keeping one of her arms against his
side for balance.

"Well, at least another good thing came out of coming here, through I do wonder if your mom
and Ivan are out there looking for us. Everything has been too quiet recently, even with the
Joker" his beloved said.

Damian had been thinking the same thing, a constant that even the elegance of Wakanda
could not get rid of.

"You know I won't let him take you"

She smiled softly, "I know, I trust you more than anyone or anything. But hearing Bucky
talking about how HYDRA controlled his mind, how a few words were all it took to make
him comply to any command...it makes me worry that Ivan is planing to do the same.
HYDRA and the Red Room were allies once after all"

The thought was unpleasant, enough that he began running a hand down the scars of her
back, trying to soothe her worries away, but also doing it as a way to calm down for himself,
as a reminder that there weren't new scars there.

Ivan the Great would pay dearly one day for all he had done, and if his plan was truly to brain
wash Brooklyn into obedience, then he's sorely regret it.

"Do you really trust me?" he asked, somehow needing to hear that reassurance again, never
growing tired of it.

Her brown eyes twinkled with the bedside lap's glow, Brooklyn's smile equally as bright as
she replied confidently, "More than anyone, best friend"

Damian rolled his eyes at the mocking way she said that last part, but he felt odd all of the
sudden. It wasn't exactly an uncomfortable feeling, but something that was nagging at him to
do something.
The Wayne's attention somehow went to Brooklyn's rosy lips, not painted bright red for once.
Perhaps his mind had just noticed the lipstick's absence, noted the change. But why did he get
that feeling again, of wanting to be closer?

It was like that night at the school dance, as if a force of gravity was pulling him forward.

Like that day, Damian let his forehead meet her own, watched as Brooklyn's features turned
from curious to accepting as she relaxed. She was so close, he could still smell her vanilla
shampoo, that sweet smell that clung to her skin.

It was when memories of the mall came into his mind that Damian froze, noticing at last that
his face had gotten close enough that he was inches from touching his lips with her own. She
was looking up at him, trying to figure out what was going on just as Damian was.

After a few seconds of just being there, frozen, with Brooklyn practically atop him, that she
decided to end the odd atmosphere, kissing his cheek and quickly moving out of bed.

As she stretched her limbs, facing the window of the balcony, Brooklyn said mockingly, "If
you were tired all you had to do was say so. Its well past midnight anyways, I should make it
back to my own room"

Damian was still stuck, frozen as his mind was trying to work something out, a warmth in his
cheek left over form her lips. He managed to nod in agreement, watching his beloved leave
with the promise to see him at breakfast tomorrow.

It had to have been a few minutes later that a word resounded in his head, it was Dick's voice
that said 'feelings'.

Damian stood up from the bed in alarm as he recalled all his siblings had said about teenage
crushes. But he knew deep down that this was no temporary spring of feelings, that a life
without Brooklyn might be dull, as annoying and lonely as it used to before her arrival.

But why had he just thought that!?

No...there was no possible way Damian was catching emotions, those far from friendship's
boundaries. Was he?

Damian despised himself for a few hours, pacing around the room, willing the emotions in
his heart to go away because they simply could not be. Being friends in secret was one thing,
but...having Brooklyn as something more, it just simply could not happen, not with their
families in the mix.

Once the anger quelled, Damian was struck with a flash on panic.

Unused to feeling so much in one day, it took him by surprise. All he could think about was
the fact that if he did like Brooklyn as more than just a best friend, then he liked someone
who constantly risked her life, someone who would hold the same burdens to save the
innocent as he did.
What if she died? What if this feeling in his heart ended just how he wanted, but only by her
death? Could he stand not being able to talk to her at night, to hear that laugh that quelled his
worst moods.

The panic soon turned to... unhappiness.

It was a strong sense of what Damian could only guess to be sorrow, as he realized perhaps
he did like Brooklyn, more than he was willing to admit to himself, much less anyone
else...but she had feelings for Parker.

Damian actually had to sit down on the large bed, look out into the balcony that displayed the
bright stars in the sky as he cursed himself for feeling lesser than a person such as Parker.

It was ridiculous.

This was too much feeling, too many emotions at once that Damian did not feel like sorting
through. Even as his siblings words ran through his head, almost as if encouraging Damian to
accept what he felt despite its complications, Damian could only groan in annoyance as he
laid down on the bed.

Mother had always said that love was irrelevant to people like them, that it was unobtainable,
a fantasy to get lost in. Damian liked to think he was better than to fall for something as
useless as a fantasy, that he was in his right mind at all times.

Mother had been wrong about friends though...

And, he liked talking to Brooklyn. He liked to share notes with her, hug her close and hear
her faint heartbeats as they fell asleep. Damian enjoyed that they were a good team, an
efficient duo that could take on anything or anyone, even successful in mundane group
activities like cooking a simple meal.

Having her around, it made him feel stronger.

Damian was glad that they were alike, that he could tell her stories of his past and she
wouldn't judge him for it. He appreciated Brooklyn's trust with her own tales, that when
either one was in trouble, the other would break the world apart to help.

He relished in the fact that only he was trusted to touch her scars, that they could heal one
another without having to put up a strong front. Damian was even fond of the fact that
Brooklyn stood up to his father and siblings, that Titus enjoyed her company and Brooklyn
was starting not to mind his.

He did not mind the jokes, the smiles, the laughs.

He was not overly pleased when guys stared too long, when Parker acted like an idiot.
Damian was certain he was above jealousy, it was such a stupid thing to feel, an emotion
made for lesser beings. But he'd felt an uncomfortable pang when Thompson asked her to the
dance, as people on TV gushed about her looks as if she were a mere object.

But could that be something akin to jealousy?

The Wayne was even willing to admit that the day of the Yule dance, he'd felt something, a
complete sense of rightness, something that filled his mind with only one thought, the
memory of a kiss they'd shared once.

That night of the dance, and a few minutes ago, he'd...been about to kiss Brooklyn...
because....because he....

Because despite the absurdity of it all, how angry it would make both his parents and his
family as a whole, Damian might just fancy Brooklyn Stark.

Damian, laying on the bed, stayed there absolutely still, eyes wide as he registered what his
thoughts had only confirmed. The Wayne wanted to deny it some more, will such a fact to not
be true, but there seemed to be no helping it now.

Damian Wayne really liked Brooklyn Stark.

Somehow, he'd known so for a while, since he'd read that stupid quote Brooklyn's boss had
given him, had begun to guess his illness might be attributed to emotions beyond his
understanding. But it wasn't until that night under the Wakandan stars, that Damian realized
he truly might like Brooklyn as more than just a friend.

The thought made him surprisingly pleased, relieved now that he'd at least thought it with
some honesty, but it also made him very unsure of what he should do about it.

He could only lay there in bed, eyeing the walkie-talkie beside his bed, the glowing ceiling,
the intricate patterns of his bed sheets.

Damian touched the spot in his cheek where Brooklyn had kissed him minutes ago. He
wondered if his beloved had felt the small tingling, the warmth, along with some other
emotion he could not name.

Snapping out of his foolish thoughts, Damian got under the covers and willed sleep to take
him, wondering what he would do with this new information when he saw Brooklyn
tomorrow.

Mashaeir ghabia. Stupid feelings.

 Fighting for New Allies

Brooklyn POV-

This little 'internship' of sorts was starting to feel a lot like school. The week was almost over,
and Brooklyn was already swarmed with paperwork that felt very much like homework.

It was a relief not to have to deal with someone like Lex Jr at times like these, in fact,
Brooklyn and her three friends tended to keep to themselves, and the other teens or young
adults were so busy trying to keep up with the meetings that they rarely noticed a Wayne and
Stark were not trying to kill one another.

The Stark was beginning to grow used to being here, enjoying the music, the clashes in
harmony of modern and traditional elements that could be found everywhere and seemed to
give this country a special kind of charm.

Brook had even gone with Wanda and Steve to visit Bucky during the week a few times.
They often shared more stories of their past, about the kills, the torture, even the occasional
nightmares. Brooklyn was still not able to be as open as she was with Damian about that sort
of stuff, but Grandpa Steve said it was good for Bucky to have someone to talk to, so she
continued her visits as often as possible.

She'd even been able to see Bucky smile twice now, and they both had quite the time teasing
Steve about Natasha that time she called to make sure he was doing alright.

Bucky was right, Steve was still stuck in the 40s and needed some severe help where flirting
was concerned, unfortunately Brooklyn had no idea how to do that, Bucky was also stuck in
the 40s, and Wanda was in her first relationship with a machine.

Still, Brook knew what Wanda and Bucky did not know, that Steve must've been doing
something right for sestra to like him already. It was just fun to watch the old man blush.

She was also really staring to see Wakanda's vision for the future, of being able to use this
technology for the betterment of the world. In a lot of ways, it was the opposite of what the
Red Room had wanted her to do, a future to heal not to harm.

This little trip, through soon coming to and end in a few days, was like a comforting push to
the future Brooklyn was working towards...

Damian had been a little quiet today, but even he had taken the time after a meeting on
ecological projects to say that perhaps this country would be the one that would save
humanity from global warming.

While Yelena and Jon excused themselves to go to explore the city (per Jon's whining
request), Brook and Damian were burdened with having to review actual paperwork, study
propositions and try to make changes to them that would benefit both Wakanda and their
companies.
The two had spent the last four days going to a little nook in the royal library, isolated from
any other company heirs who took to doing their work there.

In any case, if they were discovered together, they had a perfect excuse for such an
arrangement.

With each lesson they were given, it was often that the Wakandan representatives asked for
the teens to pair up. Most chose to do so with whom they invited as their guest, but Jon had
pleaded to be paired with Yelena since day one.

That left the Stark and Wayne paired more often than not.

Teens had long since stopped staring their way waiting for a fight, and though the two still
kept an act of looking bothered, they were both silently pleased to be working together.

Today, the two had to work on an agreement for vibranium shipping of small quantities,
figuring out which facility of their company would be the safest to store the rare metal to
avoid it getting into the wrong hands.

Brooklyn was in the process of making sure she could account for the weight of the metal
when she noticed Damian was not working as diligently as usual. His head was turned away
from her, staring out at the bright rays of the sun outside.

Dami had been acting oddly, and it wasn't until this brief moment of 'relaxation' that the Stark
was given a second to try and figure it out. Could he be worrying about the assassin war?
Concerned the Joker could be harming his family?

Sometimes Brooklyn despised that Damian had to carry such burdens, that he was the type of
person who though he was strong enough to take everything on, but that also made him think
he was responsible when he wasn't somewhere to help.

Brook let go of her pen, clutching one of his hands atop the dark wood table, intertwining
their fingers. Damian's face snapped away from the window then, looking at their hands for a
few seconds until he seemed to relax at last.

"You can tell me what's troubling you, right now its just Brooklyn and Damian, remember?"
she said, using her other hand to pick at invisible specks of lint off his loose white shirt, then
the brightly orange patterned wrap around his middle.

Even in Wakandan fashion, Damian still seemed to look and carry himself highly, and though
Brook knew he was not fond of vibrant colors, they really suited him well.

Damian looked around the room, at the large glowing shelves, the massive chandeliers of
glasswork depicting oceans and sunsets, the murals on the walls of panthers, lions, and
gazelles running along grasslands, then the little orb of light encased by vibranium in the
middle of the table.

He did not meet her eyes then, as if he were looking for an answer around them.
"I'm serious, you know you can talk to me about anything, its what we do" Brooklyn insisted
gently, worried at last that something was actually wrong. It felt like a stone in her mind, a
worry so strong that it almost took her by surprise.

"It's nothing beloved, I'm just...thinking about you"

That was odd.

Was he mad at her for something?

In her worry, Brook traced the checkerboard and triangle patterns on the wax cloth of his
wrap where it was attacked at his shoulder.

Being close to him was so normal now, it was also silly to think of a time when she and
Damian had once wanted to be a thousand feet apart.

Some of her worries eased when Damian did not back away from her touch, meaning he
wasn't mad at her for something. Did that mean he was worried about her again, that Ivan
unsettled him?

"May I know why before I start going back to every interaction we had today, worried I did
something wrong?" Brooklyn teased, but some part of her was still troubled that perhaps
she'd brought up something sensitive today, even when they'd talked less that usual.

Damian's green eyes widened ever so slightly, even when his perfect posture did not change.

"Its nothing like that, I was just pondering on the nature of our friendship" Damian said,
puzzling Brook further, "Not that its been on my mind that long of course, but I just got to
thinking that all this hiding might grow tiresome one day, that you'd rather confide with
someone like Parker who you can actually be around freely, even if he is an idiot"

Ok, something was seriously wrong here.

Brooklyn stood up from their little booth table, smoothing out the fabric of her once piece
suit with patterns much like those of Damian's wrap, but instead of being orange, she'd been
given a bright shade of green with darker accents. It was comfortable, probably didn't wrinkle
easily, but Brook's confusion made her hands jittery.

She made to stand by the window, where a lush courtyard was below, full with Dora Milaje
training, using their vibranium spears to shoot down saucers of clay.

Brook kept her gaze on them as she tried to arrange her words.

Normally Brooklyn would speak her mind freely to Damian, actually didn't think much of it.
But this seemed important, and she valued Damian too much to risk saying the wrong thing
when he was finally admitting a worry so openly.

She heard steps approach, soon found a pair of black sandals like her own stood beside her.
Though she had no clue where that sudden thought of his had come from, Brooklyn tried her
best to hide the small smile that kept threatening to break out across her face. Such worry for
silly things like that meant that Damian valued their friendship too, that he did not want to
see it gone.

It was nice knowing he cared too, even if he didn't exactly word it that way.

"Our friendship doesn't work because it's easy. We are taking risks by being friends, but I
think the thing that makes our peculiar friendship work is that we know those risks and brave
them anyways because...well, because it worth it" Brooklyn admitted, keeping her eyes on
the toes of her feet, nothing how much both her feet had healed since Damian and Peter
insisted she take care of her injuries better.

"I don't care if it's difficult, most of the aspects of our lives are complicated already," Brook
added in a whisper, "You are still the person I trust the most, and I don't think that has a
chance of changing anytime soon. As long as you want to be my friend, I'll be there.
Actually, even if you didn't want to be my friend, I'd probably still be there"

It was true really, their lives had become so intertwined that it seemed almost impossible that
she'd one day grow to hate Damian again. That feeling of rightness, of absolute trust, was the
feeling of their special friendship, and Brooklyn found she really liked it.

Damian hummed once, as if agreeing with her thoughts before taking one of her hands into
his own, intertwining their fingers once more even when the Kimoyo Beads around their
wrists made it slightly awkward.

They both stood there for a while, staring out into the vast city that seemed to dream far
beyond what most would assume possible, like the friendship between a Wayne and a Stark.

"Just Brooklyn and Damian" Damian said, seeming more like a question that statement.

Brooklyn smiled up at her best friend, at the small crease between his brows which she
smoothed out with her thumb before replying with absolute certainty.

"Always"

**********

After a long afternoon working on contracts and propositions, Brook and Damian were
making their way back to the sleeping quarters to await dinner with Jon and Yelena, hoping
the two had finally com back from their trip to the city.

They were making their way along the carpeted hallways, walking under the grand arches of
the palace, saluting the guards and those walking around as best they could with all the books
and papers they each had in hand.

Damian had offering to carry her own stack of materials, ever the gentleman, but she'd
refused with the joke that she had private Stark documents that the competition could not see.
Damian had finally cracked a smile at that little comment, making a show of covering his
own papers close to his chest saying a Stark wasn't worthy of seeing his own plans.

They'd laughed about that softly for a while, careful not to run into some of the heirs or
heiresses, lest they have a lust for drama and went off selling information to the media as
soon as they all left.

It was when they were almost at the large wooden door leading to the guest rooms that
Brooklyn noticed guards were getting notifications on their Kimoyo Beads, and they all
began rushing out of their posts with weapons in hand.

It was like a switch flipped in her and Damian at the same time, because after checking they
still had their weapons on them (Damian his katana holsters and Brook her gauntlets), they
moved away from their previous destination, rushing down the hall with their stuff clutched
close to their chests, especially as their own Kimoyo Beads rang with a notification to stay in
their rooms until told otherwise.

Damian and Brooklyn ignored such a warning, knowing something was definitely wrong
when some of the elders of the tribes they had met during this week were being led
somewhere safe along with the queen mother.

Shuri broke off from that group, moving toward the direction of the other guards when she
spotted Brook, halting her steps.

"What's going on?' Brooklyn asked as soon as Shuri rushed over to them.

The teen did not seem panicked in the least, but she was serious as she said, "There is an
attack trying to infiltrate the place. You two can go to your rooms where you'll be safe"

Like hell she would.

Memories of Shuri's words about some of the Wakandans siding with a man who wanted to
use the countries resources to rule the world under their banner flashed in her mind. After
studying the city for so long, Brooklyn knew for a fact no one uninvited from the outside
world could come in to the city, this had to be an issue form the inside.

Months ago, Brook might've left the princess to care for her own problems alone, Damian
might have done the same, but they were not those kinds of people anymore.

After sharing one quick nod with Damian, Brooklyn declared, "We'll fight with you princess,
lead the way"

Shuri frowned, "Are you two crazy? This is probably going to end up badly"

Instead of explaining that they'd both been trained assassins and were now heroes in training,
the two dropped their papers and documents to the floor, and Brooklyn summoned her
gauntlets to cover her arms, letting the electricity inside them flow in a bright blue light.
Damian took out his katana holsters, letting the blades expand, glinting sharply again the
chandelier lights above them.
The princess assessed them for a second, then motioned for them to follow her down the hall.

She quickly explained what was going on, that someone had broken free from prison and was
on his way to try and get the throne by force. W'Kabi was the former head of security for
Wakanda's Border Tribe as well as T'Challa's best friend. He'd lost his faith in the king due to
the failure to capture the man who was responsible for the death of his parents.

Instead, W'Kabi put his faith in Erik Killmonger, a man who wanted to use Wakanda's power
to stop racism and oppression by using force, to rule the world that way. W'Kabi was
captured for his betrayal, but someone must've helped him escape, and others had still clung
to the ideas of this so called Erik, because they were ready to take the throne by force now to
see their vision fulfilled.

As they moved, Damian contacted Jon, and once his holographic image appeared before the
two running teens, the Wayne instructed him to get all their suits and meet at the south side of
the palace where Shuri mentioned the commotion was at.

Jon and Yelena had met them once they made it outside, and while the princess went to go
get weapons of her own, the four teens changed into their suits to keep their identities hidden.

They all joined guards and soldiers into a ship that dropped them all off at a long span of
grasslands behind the castle, in a large baren field that must be for crops later in the year.
There were already hundreds of people standing on the other side, some riding rhinos, others
clutching weapons tightly as they shouted war cries in Wakandan.

Brook and the others followed Shuri to the front lines where King T'Challa was already
standing in his Black Panther suit. He seemed saddened by the sight of his own people
choosing a path of violence, but he was wise enough to know this threat had to be stopped for
the future Brooklyn had learned the country truly wanted.

She'd help fight for it, to defend those who wanted to truly see a better world for everyone. It
was probably one of the most worthy causes to fight for, one which Brooklyn was more than
ready for.

When the king beheld the four children beside his sister, he seemed momentarily caught off
guard, almost as if he might demand they stay behind, but one look from Shuri and the King
let the words die in his mouth, instead sending them a grateful nod.

Thats when two other people in suits stepped forward, Grandpa Steve looking odd as always
without his famous shield, one that Brook now knew why dad had refused to give back.
Wanda was there was well, wearing a red coat that flowed with the light breeze, eyes red like
the magic pooling at her fingertips.

When Grandpa Steve caught sight of her, he almost looked angry, but such an emotion was
replaced by worry.

"Brooklyn, get back! Your dad wont be happy if you get hurt under our watch" Steve said,
almost pleading.
Brook didn't have time to argue the fact that she was more than ready for this fight, especially
with her friends around.

"Don't worry about me, worry about not letting those armies getting into the city" Brook
shouted back over Jon's and Damian's bodies.

There was no further time for arguing, because a loud horn resonated across the field, which
encouraged the enemy forces to advance slowly toward them.

Everyone turned to T'Challa, the king, and once his black panther-like helmet came on and he
crouched as if ready to pounce, Brooklyn got into a fighting stance as well. On one side was
Yelena, clutching small knives between her fingers, on the other, Damian shot her a nod,
gripping his katanas harder as he made a gesture for her to stay close.

It was once the enemy force was halfway over to them that everyone followed T'Challa's war
cry and rushed forward into a sprint, Jon and Wanda flying overhead, all of them ready to
meet the enemies to secure worldwide peace.

Brooklyn POV-

Brooklyn made sure her teammate stuck close to one another, they knew how to fight better
as a group now and would be of much more help that way.

Following their agreement to not kill, the four teens focused on making sure those that
approached them were knocked out for a few hours, sometimes making sure to create mild
injures to make sure that once they stood, those people would not be able to get back up.

Steve had stuck close to her at first, but once he was Brooklyn and Damian practically going
through the enemies before them as if there were cutting through grass, the super soldier had
left to fight by the king's side.

Brook had debated asking where Bucky was, but she knew that perhaps he was not yet ready
for another war, for a fight.

It mattered very little anyways, by the looks of it, they were winning for the most part.

It had been a long while since Brooklyn heard the sounds of massive war, of many
screaming, of having to dodge blows while bring enemies down. She knew others did not
have a pact not to kill, which made the field smell of coppery blood, littered with still bodies
on the ground, and brought back memories of the last war she'd been in.

The Battle of New York.

Bu this time she wasn't fighting alone, she and Damian were fighting side by side, cornering
enemies and making openings for the other to attack. They watched one another's backs,
blocking stray shots from other battles and even sharing weapons when the occasion called
for it.

Jon was there as well, freezing people in place for Yelena to go over and knock them out by
hitting a special pressure point by the neck. He'd sometimes, fly over to carry Brook behind
an enemy Damian was distracting so she could take him down, other times, the blue eyed boy
touched down on the floor to stop incoming javelins with his bare hands that came Damian's
way.

Jon was still not overly fond in adapting extreme offense techniques, but his defensive
instincts were still incredibly useful.

Yelena had now grown used to the team's fighting style, and though she still fought alone
best, she kept by Brooklyn's side not hesitating to team up should the occasion arose. Many
times though, the blonde and Jon would be the ones that took to saving allies outside their
little group, blocking shots and shouting warnings as they fought.

Brook wasn't sure if they'd been fighting for minutes or hours, all she knew is that she and
her team had some sort of rhythm going on, and none of them were injured enough to stop
paving a way for more forces to come through, creating a path for the king to reach his old
friend to stop this battle at last...

It was inevitable really, that even though she hadn't killed a soul, others who fought around
them caused Brooklyn's face to be sprinkled with blood, that because she could not bring her
flight suit, her simple back jumpsuit was already stained as well.

Her friends were not better, and though she knew Damian had seen his fare share of fights,
she wasn't sure if he'd ever been in a battle before, Jon and Yelena certainly hadn't, but none
of them seemed bothered yet.

Good.

Amidst climbing a man's body and slamming him on the ground unconscious, she heard
Damian shouting her name. When she looked up form the electrified victim, Brook noticed
what he meant.

There were only a few people between them and a man atop a rhino, one that looked out into
the battle with worry and anger. That was the leader.

With a nod, Brooklyn and Damian sprinted side by side, Jon and Yelena watching their backs
as the two teens rushed forward. Damian had tossed Brook one of his katanas, and the two
began targeting legs of those in their way, leaving them unable to stand as they paved the way
for the King that Yelena announced had seen their plan and was making his way over.

Though she did suffer a few small cuts from vibranium weapons, it was nothing she could
feel as Brooklyn locked eyes with the man in charge of all this mess. Some part of her knew
he was right, that there was too much oppression in the world, so many wrongs that needed
fixing, but Brook had come to learn that force and violence simply wasn't the way to do it.

It was with a little bit of satisfaction that she smirked his way, watched as Damian did the
same before the two ducked under orders of the King as they watched the Black Panther
release a burst of purple energy that let him soar far above their heads to tackle the man
above the animal to the ground.
There were still sounds of bombs and struggling around them, but once T'Challa had his old
friend by the collar of his shirt, seemingly pleading or screaming at him, W'Kabi went limp
with defeat, and his remaining allies that sensed the loss of their plan tumbled to their knees,
arms raised.

Brook was panting as she tossed Damian his sword back. Upon seeing the fighting had
stopped, Jon brought the four of them into a tight embrace. They were all sweaty and full of
sprayed blood, but Brooklyn did not waste any time winding her arm around Yelena's and
Jon's shoulders, sending the Wayne before her a smile.

They were all fine, made it out unharmed, and managed to help do something good.

It was after the embrace was over, that Brooklyn turned back to see everyone celebrating, so
lost in the victory that they did not notice the man off in the distance. He was on his knees,
but slowly reaching for his javelin.

Brook noticed his eyes lock on the princess, who was too busy talking to her brother to
notice, too preoccupied celebrating.

The Stark had no time to hesitate as the man quickly raised his arm, all she could do was rush
away from her friends, and once she realized there would be no time to destroy the javelin
with a nearby gun without the sharp remnants hitting Shuri and likely injuring her...Brooklyn
could think of no other solution than to keep running.

She would not be able to push Shuri away in time, Brook realized, so despite the screams
behind her, the teen jumped on a dead body and threw her body between the princess and the
weapon, letting it pierce through her arm.

The momentum of the weapon actually pushed Brooklyn back by her shoulder, making the
fall on her back all the more painful even when she was sure the adrenaline was dulling the
pain.

She had the vague sense of being dizzy, of her arm feeling wet, grass tickling her cheeks, and
of Daman's voice shouting her name.

He was the first to reach her side, kneeling down to cradle her head in his lap.

"Brooklyn! You fool, stay still and stay awake" Damian commanded. Brooklyn tried to smile,
to nod in understanding but all she ended up doing was coughing out blood painfully.

She wanted to say this was by far not the worst injury she'd ever felt, but having a giant metal
spear stuck to her arm wasn't exactly pleasant either.

More people must've surrounded her fallen body, because the rays of the sun suddenly
became blocked form her line of vision. She heard Shuri's voice, that familiar Wakandan
accent near the side of her injury.

Then she heard Grandpa Steve, frantic as he was instructed by the King to take out the javelin
quickly. Brooklyn felt a searing pain in her arm then, followed by something being placed in
the open injury.

Blinking a few times to clear her vision, Brooklyn noticed it was a Kimoyo Bead being paced
in the bleeding wound of her shoulder.

Damian was cradling her close, yelling at her to stay awake as people began shouting for
medical help. She even saw Damian slap away one of Steve's hands that had moved to soothe
her. The Wayne was yelling for someone to do something, threatening even the King himself
without a second thought about it.

Brook heard Wanda come forward then, saying that in order to help with the pain, she would
use her magic to stitch the wound.

Brooklyn was still weary of magic, especially when she'd briefly seen Wanda use it so
effectively out in the battle field today. But she promised Damian she would stay awake, and
the pain as starting to become too much, even for Brook.

So she nodded faintly, felt something like wind rush towards her injury.

Once the magic touched her...it felt wrong. Brooklyn felt like something awful spread though
her body then, something humming along to the wisps of magic. It made her body shake, her
mind go blank again as the injury was staring to take hold, Brook could already feel signs of
a fever coming.

Only it wasn't a fever.

Damian's hand, which had been placed on her cheek, retreated with a pained hiss.

Though still slightly delirious, Brooklyn felt hot, too hot.

Her body temperature felt like it was rising, she felt everyone's hands leave her body, heard
Damian being dragged away by Jon and Yelena, kicking and screaming as her own screams
ripped out of her throat when the temperature became too much, too foreign.

The Stark could see smoke around her arms, smell something burning underneath her.

The pain was like nothing she'd felt before, only familiar to those days in the Red Room. It
made her scream for help, begging someone to make it stop even when she'd been trained to
withstand any and all tortures.

What had been in that javelin!? Was the delirious? Why was the pain so real?

"Are those flames!? Wait, let me try something" Jon said, and because of her headache, it
sounded like he was underwater. Brook still felt him trying to cool her with his ice breath, but
she felt too hot, like she was boiling.

It wasn't helping.

"I don't know what happened!" Wanda yelled, panicked somewhere to her left but Brooklyn
could barely make out the rest as she felt heart wrenching screams leave from her own
mouth.

Turning her tired head to the side, Brooklyn saw everyone was hissing at their feet, moving
back from her body. Damian was being bragged back by Yelena and Jon, eyes open to his
emotions for once as he seemed disheveled and panicked, eyes locked onto her own as he
fought the restraints against him.

Was she dying?

Brook was truly burning by the looks of it, she could even smell the smoke from the grass
below her now.

What kind of vibranium use had that javelin had?

Amidst the pain, Brooklyn began to panic despite her instincts. Seeing her friends staring at
her like that, looking completely helpless, it made Brook feel like she was going to die right
in front of them.

She'd never get to see mom and dad again, tell Harley how much he meant to her. There
would never be another frantic Avengers movie night, or a mission with her friends out in
Queens.

Brook would never dance ballet with Yelena and Nat again, she'd never get to feel Jon's
enthusiastic hugs again...and Damian...she'd never get to stay by him as she'd promised.

He'd had doubts of their friendship coming to and end earlier today, but she'd never imagined
it would end like this. Brooklyn thought past the pain and burning in her soul, she realized
how much she regretted not being able to tell him more, to ask for more of his smiles so she
could see those dimples, but most of all...she could only focus on the different sort of warmth
his hugs had always brought, the way he caressed her scars, how it had felt when he'd kissed
her nose...her lips.

It was an odd thing to think about at a time like this, but Brooklyn couldn't look away from
him, tried to muffle her screams and pained expression so he wouldn't remember her that
way.

In that moment, Brook just wished she'd had more time with her best friend, to get to know
him even better than now, to keep him close and safe. Hell, she even regretted not spending
more time with Titus in that moment of deliriousness.

For the first time in her life, she actually feared death.

Thats when she felt it, the burning spreading though her body, like it was looking for a way
out from inside her bones.

She tried to fight it, the oddly familiar feeling from torture from her youth, but it was too
strong.

Her arms went up in flames them, and even when she tried to roll on the ground to put them
out, they keep coming back, spreading all over her body until they shot out into a circle in the
sky.

The light from those flames was too bright, and Brooklyn didn't even get to examine if her
body had truly burned to a crisp as she she passed out with one last thought in her mind.

Perhaps she'd been born an assassin, but at the very least, she'd died a hero.
 The Truth of the Past
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Brook felt her muscles were sore, and the...was she sleeping on the ground?

When she opened her eyes, the first thing Brooklyn noticed that this was definitely not the
grasslands of the battle, or her guest room at the palace. This was a room of black walls with
no visible door or windows, only a large mirror to her right.

She knew what this was, she'd seen enough prisons and cells to know one by now. There was
something about the darkness of the place that made her think of the Red Room, both of
being kidnapped by them and taken underwater, and of the place she'd once called home.

It was nerve wrecking.

Just as Brook began to panic, she finally realized being in that odd place did not make sense.
Why was she locked up? Who was on the other side of the two-way mirror?

Just as she stood, pushing back her messy red hair, the Stark realized she was not wearing her
suit or Wakandan clothes. She was in what was shaped like an oversized t-shirt, but it had
embedded...cables....were these clothes monitoring her?

Brooklyn felt around for her Stark watch or her gauntlets, but both were missing, leaving the
scar on her wrist visible agains the short sleeves of her outfit. Though the outfit was long
enough to reach mid-thigh, she could still see her scar from the Battle of New York, her bare
feet full of old wounds from ballet that had only begun to heal recently when she tended her
feet after practice.

Something was wrong.

The panic of being locked up again began to seize her, enough that she stood up on shaky
legs and began kicking and punching the walls looking for a way out. It wasn't until she
started screaming in frustration, as she began debating screaming for help, that Brooklyn
recalled what had happened earlier.

She'd...there was fire.

Had someone thrown fire at her, had that weapon meant for the princess been laced with
something awful? But then the Stark realized her hair was still intact, her body free of burns
that not even vibranium based technology could've healed so fast.

That had been her...thats why Brooklyn was not in a hospital, she was in a cell because she
was dangerous...
What the hell was wrong with her!?

She moved back to the middle of the empty room, cradling her knees close to her chest as she
cursed in Russian, as she tried to keep the panic at bay.

Thats when a familiar voice spoke up, as if from a speaker in the small room.

"Brooklyn, It's me. I'm coming in ok?" Steve said.

He was outside! He would free her!...Or whatever happened out on that field could hurt him,
even as a super soldier, she wasn't so sure how fire resistant he could be. Her guess was, not
very much.

With a new sense of panic of hurting someone she cared for, Brooklyn looked to the two-way
mirror. She didn't care about looking weak or scared for once, not as she shot pleading yes
and yelled at the unseen beyond, "No! Don't come in! Something is wrong with me!"

Just as she yelled so, the shaking of her body had only increased when little flurries of flames
began gathering at her fingertips.

NO! No...

Brooklyn tried to wipe them on the floor, she tried to scoot away from them, but the flames
only grew, started shooting out of her fingers like small fireworks. Where the flames met
wall, they thankfully caused no damage.

As long as no one came in, no one would be hurt...

She was starting to curse again, fear of the unknown taking such a deep root into her heart
that for the first time in a long while, Brooklyn felt completely helpless, scared of herself,
worried she was not in control anymore.

"Relax Brook. We're here for you kid, all of us"

That was dad. Had they brought him to Wakanda? Or were they in some American prison for
freaks? She didn't really care either way, a prison was a prison, no matter what flag it had.
But this was the only way to keep Brook from hurting others.

As the flames continued to expand out further, Brooklyn tried not to flinch as she looked at
her flesh, seeing it was unharmed somehow, she still couldn't help but whimper and scream at
the sight, trying to back away from the flames.

This was like the abilities she'd always been weary about from mutants, from Wanda, Vision
or even Steve. This was out of nature's laws, this was...not supposed to be happening...

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!?" she yelled into the empty room, towards the mirror,
watching as he eyes glowed a bright yellow in its reflection. The unfamiliar sight made her
recoil, push back to the furthest corner of the cell from the window as she tried to steady her
difficult breathing while bursts of flames kept shooting out of her hands, expanding further
up her arm.
"Brooklyn, sweetie! You need to calm down ok?"

That was mom's voice, soothing, calm, but afraid. Afraid of Brooklyn.

Brook felt the tears then, slowly letting them fall down her cheeks as she clutched her hair in
a maddening grip, uncaring of the flames. Yet they still did not burn her hair off.

Another voice spoke then, that belonging to her sestra, to Natasha. She was steady and strong
with her words as she said, "Relax Rosa, I think I know what's going on. Remember when
you were telling me about your yearly medicine, the torture that came with it, how neither
Yelena or I had it? I think that this has something to do with this. Those shots they were
giving you in the Red Room weren't normal procedure...I should've questioned it more when
you mentioned it"

"What!? How? What the fuck is wrong with me!?" Brook yelled back, staring at her flaming
arms with horror and distaste, even more so when she noticed her own feet were starting to
sprout vibrant flames by her toes.

Kicking did nothing to help.

Thats when she heard mumbling, then Shuri spoke up, "You had no SHIELD medical records
aside from a small blood sample that confirmed you as a Stark, so I had to run some tests.
After a more thorough examination, there are signs of tampering with your DNA, Brooklyn"

Tampering?

Perhaps sestra was right, the only people who could've tampered with her body was the Red
Room.

The princess's next words only sealed that confirmation.

"This is tampering with similar technology I've seen on Sergeant Barnes, this is HYDRA
technology"

Brook always knew HYDRA had ties with the Red Room while she was there, she'd let their
doctors conduct torture, had let that A.I. machine of theirs say such scary things she hadn't
understood at the time... but she had no clue they'd experimented on her!

It would be a comforting thought to say the Red Room would never do that, but even she
knew that was a lie.

"So I'm a super soldier like him!?" Brooklyn yelled, pushing back her sobs as she added
angrily, "Bullshit, I have fire coming out of my hands!"

The fire was expanding, up her elbows now.

A different voice came in seconds later, Wanda's voice, "I don't think you are like him or
Steve. When my magic touched you, it sensed something familiar, activated something. I
think HYDRA was using the tesseract on you like they were to me and my brother. I think
that I activated the dormant power in you with my own magic"
Brooklyn had looked at the records once, seen that Wanda and a twin brother had been
experimented on by HYDRA using Loki's scepter when SHIELD took it after the war. But
Brooklyn had left the Red Room by then...

Thats when she recalled the reason Loki got into their bad radar in the first place. He'd taken
the tesseract, an object of similar radioactive properties. That had been in SHIELD's hands
for a long time, and back then, HYDRA was still a hidden mole within their ranks.

"They used the cube from the battle? The one that opened up the wormhole?" she whispered,
almost terrified by the thought of such a thing being possible.

The cube was no longer on Earth, but somewhere in Asgard. Loki's scepter was no more, its
hidden stone placed at the center of Vision's brow. But Wanda and her dead sibling were clear
examples that such experimenting could be possible...

Shuri's voice pipped in then, "Yes, thats what we were thinking. I think whatever power that
cube gave you is basically the ability to manipulate microwave radiation. You can excite the
atoms within an object until they generate enough energy to burst into flame. Though you
could theoretically excite atoms to do other things, your powers seem to be based on
emotion, the only thing you can do now is excite them to create fire"

"Don't call it that!" Brooklyn yelled at the mirror, royal niceties be damned, "Its not powers!
Its a disease, something is wrong with me! Look!"

Brook flared her arms and legs that were slowly combusting faster.

She couldn't help it, she couldn't stop them.

This was impossible, it had to be some sot of joke because she'd NEVER been able to
summon anything like this...ever...right?

Suddenly, as she laid on the ground, sobbing and shaking, memories of the past flooded her.

Since before she even met Peter and Tony, she'd always felt warm when she was angry, she'd
always thought of her anger as a burning of sorts.

Like the day she'd gone to the compound for the first time, when she'd sat in the rain after
fighting with her dad...

After a few steps, the wind began picking up enough that Brook had to shift her burgers on
one hand while using the other to keep her cursed skirt down. It didn't help that the grey
sweater was too thin to protect her body from the cold, but after the burning heat of her anger,
its cooling effect was a welcome discomfort.

And that day when she and Happy were attacked...there was a weapon had made one of the
attackers fold onto himself, but then he touched her...

The man's body seemed to vanish of all color, his dark skin turning into an ash-like shade as
his bones cracked and broke all around his body. It was as if he was being folded to fit in a
small space because his body seemed to shrink towards his torso.
The criminal was in immense pain, but he still had enough mind to try and get to her for a
last blow. Brooklyn barely caught his wrists to hold him back from strangling her, and she
watched as, like the rest of his body, the bones there crumbled as well.

His skin grew hot to the touch suddenly, and Brook managed to push him away so he
collapsed a few feet away.

The teen watched in mild horror as the man screamed aloud enough to scare away nearby
birds, listened as his companions began screaming profanities of their own as they witnessed
the man turn into nothing more than burning pile of ashes.

Had she done that? Is that why SHIELD had not been able to work out where the fire came
from if the weapons power was only to fold space?

Is that how Brooklyn had been able to survive many winters in the Red Room when many
girls succumbed to the cold? Brook had always assumed the alcohol had helped but....now
that she thought about it, she should've died on those days injures made her weak, when she
was taken to a colder room for punishment...

Every year, many young girls perished by the cold kiss of winter, but Brook had reminded
herself that she was strong year after year. So she never let her body freeze, willed her insides
to warm, to fight the inhuman enemy.

Brook felt the feeling of the fire's warmth spread as she clutched harshly at her hair, shaking
her head in disbelief.

That day she'd found out Peter's secret....now that she thought about it, she always turned on
the cold faucet in the sink, it was a habit...but that day.

By the end of the short tale, her hands were almost burning with the hot water, her continued
scrubbing only resulting in a raw feeling. It was Damian who reached to turn off the faucet,
and though he still held his usual frown, the teen pulled her hands way from the smoking sink
and dried them harshly.

He stared down at her, hands still in his own, only a flimsy towel keeping their skin from
actually touching.

Then that day she'd gotten pissed at Harry's dad...

Fighting back the instinct to judo flip him to the grass and punch his old face over and over,
Brooklyn instead turned to her manners, fighting the burning in her body that wanted death
and pain.

It was almost like Brook's sudden anger was an oozing warmth between them, because the
man was sweating nervously, perhaps more so at the spectacle they had created rather than
his own guilt.

The day when she, Damian, Jon, and Peter had gone to stop the Joker, when the building had
exploded....
In seconds, a large explosion occurred, only made bigger by something inside the business
that fueled it. Brooklyn was being pushed down by her teammate, but she still had the mind
to push her body atop his own, even if he was superhuman, even when his suit might even be
fire proof.

That did not matter to Brook at the moment, not as the flames neared their bodies and they
were both likely to be scorched to death.

She got lucky though.

The flames must've barely been out of reach from her body that she felt no burns on her back
as she fell to the floor, body landing atop Spider-man as they let the shock wave of the
explosion go by.

She'd been too busy with the containment of the fire afterwards then to really question the
flames. That explosion was so big, it had left flames around them, and she'd just assumed
they hadn't touched her back...had they?

Oh god...

When she'd been captured...the instructors had said...

Ivan has been waiting for his greatest experiment to come home, his little spider that was
supposed to set the world on fire for him.

Brook had the vague sense of being tortured her with powerful shocks as voices yelled at her
to burn, to become a flame once more that burned for Ivan's glory.

She'd even deliriously heard one of her old instructors say something to Yelena back then.

"Daughter of Ivan, hand over your sestra, hand over Ivan's prized flame and you shall be
rewarded"

And...Damian had told her a few days ago that Harley Quinn had been spotted alive, that she
had a broken nose, cuts, and black eyes, but she also had burns that were oddly shaped.

Were they shaped like fists? Brooklyn's fists?

She'd been so angry, there had been so much blood that she couldn't really tell what the
injuries had been....

But seeing her friend hit the bleachers with screams from her teammates...it did not feel like
the emotionless concern that usually overcame her when a still body was before Brooklyn.

That anger turned hot, seething.

Looking down at the horribly mangled face of the Harley Quinn, Brooklyn was almost
horrified at what she'd done. Has she kept going...this woman would be dead.
She heard screaming over the speakers, but Brooklyn was too scared of herself to care, to
scared of hurting others, of being something else...something bad.

These abilities had been given to her with a magic cube from space! What kind of a freak did
that make her!? What if she continued to burn on and on forever...what if she had hurt
someone already?

Though Brooklyn rarely cried, she felt the tears flow faster, her vision becoming blurry,
things that only seemed to fuel the flames. That warmth that always came when she was
angry now taking shape of flames swimming around her body like a giant ring growing
bigger and bigger by the second.

It evaporated the tears from Brook's face.

They were surrounding her and they just wouldn't stop, it was like a tornado was slowly
growing around the Stark as the room shook violently, as she yelled one thing off the top of
her lungs.

Ivan.

She screamed that name with such anger, over and over even when the speakers were trying
to say something. All Brooklyn could do was stand, clutch her head as the fire spread all
around her body, slowly burning the material of her shirt.

What was she?

What had Ivan done? Is this why he wanted her back?

Just as the fire tornado began growing past her head, a door appeared, and before it could
open fully, a group of people a appeared, rushing inside but having to cover their eyes from
the brightness of the flames, but they did not back away from the heat.

It was Peter, followed by Jon and Yelena, and...Damian.

Brooklyn's dad was here, and the Wayne still risked coming inside. Unlike the others,
Damian did not look afraid, he was not yelling for her to stop like the others, wasn't trying to
soothe her.

He was just staring her way, fighting the warmth and brightness.

Damian's green eyes were a comfort, his stance calm and collected. One look at her, a
stretched out hand not meant to signal Brook to keep away, but to go to him...thats all it took
for her crying to seize.

He wasn't afraid of her, even like this.

The flames stopped swirling around her slowly, then dissipating into nothing more than
smoke. She even felt the warmth in her eyes seize, got her breathing back on track somehow.

Damian was here, he would not judge her, he would not flinch away.
Brooklyn collapsed onto her knees, thats when Jon and Peter rushed forward, moving to
either side of her, checking her body for injuries.

Though the front of her outfit was mostly intact, no doubt fortified by all the inner cables and
machinery, Brooklyn felt a sudden coolness on half her back, she saw scraps of fabric by her
fingertips.

Brook only had three seconds to realize her back was facing the window, that her scars were
visible to everyone...

They couldn't see...they couldn't know...

Panic began to seize her again, even with her friends around her. Brook saw the exact
moment Peter noticed the scars, because he stopped trying to soothe her then. Jon was next, a
sharp intake of breath left his lips as indication.

Yelena was kneeling next to Damian before Brooklyn, but as soon as Brook looked into those
eyes, she knew the ex-assassin knew what it was, what the others were seeing.

The flames came back then, around her fingertips. Even though they were small, Brooklyn
scrambled away from Jon and Peter, ignoring their blank and shocked faces as she made to
get away.

But Damian leaned forward, taking one of her wrists even when it was likely to be encased
by flames soon. She wanted to beg him to let go, to save himself...to run.

His eyes were strong, gaze unwavering as he merely said, "Brooklyn....relax"

Relax! How could she relax!

Not when they knew...now as they saw...

"Please, make it stop" Brooklyn whispered to Damian, watching his gaze soften for a few
seconds, the look he always had around her.

Wanda came into the room then, rushing to Brooklyn's side with red wisps of magic in hand.
Brooklyn tried not to recoil at the sight, remembering what that power could do in
battle...what it had done to her.

Wanda brought the magic parallel to her temples, and even as Damian was demanding an
explanation on what the Scarlet Witch was thinking of doing, Brook could only stare at the
active magic in fear, wondering if it would kill her.

"I'm putting her to sleep, she needs to relax!" was all Wanda said as the magic rushed to the
sides of her skull, as Brooklyn felt it invade her mind, followed by nothing but darkness, one
last look at Damian's green eyes, and a loud sob and scream from Wanda herself.

*******

Damian POV-
The Avenger's magic flowed into Brooklyn's skin, and as soon as his beloved closed her eyes,
he rushed over to keep her from hitting her head on the ground. her body was warm, but the
flames were gone and her breathing was steady.

The Maximoff on the other hand, she looked to be paralyzed, hands stretched out with no
magic between them as she screamed and sobbed, which caused the levitating artificial body
to rush into the room to cradle her close the way Damian held Brooklyn's body against his
own.

"What is it?" the machine asked, only for the woman in his arms to clutch her temples, then
stare down at Brooklyn with such pity.

"To put her to sleep, I had to go into her mind. She was thinking of the Red Room...I-I saw
her past. I felt her pain, her loneliness, the anger...all the killing" the woman shook her head
then, curling deeper into the machine's sweater as others rushed inside.

As soon as Damian spotted Mr. Stark rushing over, he hated having to let go of his beloved,
especially at a time like this, but he also knew that if he did not let go, that would make more
problems for her later.

So he made it seem like he was disgusted by her presence, made Parker hold her against his
chest as the man kneeled down to cradle his daughter.

It had been a miracle that Tomy Stark and the Avengers had let him stay in the waiting room
on the other side of the glass of this stupid prison. Actually, not so much a miracle as it was
luck.

Though Mr. Stark had wanted the Wayne gone, the king allowed Damian to stay with the
excuse that Damian was a witness to what had occurred.

He'd been a little smug then, but mostly worried for his beloved.

He heard everyone theorize, saw her medical results himself. Brooklyn's body was fine,
unharmed, her health not in any peril. But the experiments had done something to her, and
Mr. Stark mentioned that Brooklyn had never let them do any sort of medical tests, that they
often had to push her to get small cuts and bruises treated from training.

Damian had sat there, listened quietly to everything, watched his best friend suffer alone in
that stupid cell the Wakandan's had put her in because it was the only place that could not
burn down.

His anger had grown with each passing second. Not towards the Avengers who were mostly
pacing worriedly or crying, Damian did not care much about them...his anger was towards
Ivan.

That absolute filth would pay for all this one day.

Still, all he could do was listen as everyone in the room discussed what could be done to fix
Brooklyn.
The Sokovian and the talking machine had offered to let their abilities be examined since
they both came from Loki's staff. Someone had even tried to contact the god himself since
he'd been on Earth recently, but there had been no such luck with that endeavor.

Now in the cell, Damian was still trying to process how panicked Brooklyn had looked, how
much fear she held for herself. To him, his beloved had always been a person confident in her
abilities, one that knew just how powerful and deadly she could be...yet neither of them
could've guessed the sort of outcome that would happen.

He, like everyone else, was ushered out of the room as medical equipment was brought in
and the princess of Wakanda got to work on trying to at least come up with a temporary
solution.

Back in the adjacent room, Damian watched in silence as Brook was hooked up to machines,
a sight familiar to that of when she'd been captured. He knew she would not be tortured, or at
least hoped for the Wakandan's sake thats not what they were planning. But would they
experiment on her? Would Brooklyn's fears of being locked up underground become a reality
again.

Never.

Damian would NEVER let that happen.

Luckily, someone was already thinking ahead.

The Sokovian was pacing before the window after giving a pint of blood for studies on her
magic to commence. She looked frantic, scared, perhaps even angry. Wanda Maximoff had
been like that since she'd helped put Brook to sleep.

"Wanda, relax" Brooklyn's mother said, hand massaging her head, "Brook will be just fine"

Captain America stood up from his own chair then, placing a comforting hand on Maximoff.

"She's right, Shuri was able to help Bucky with the stuff Hydra did to him"

The brown haired woman shook her head, clutching it with tears in her eyes, "Its not that. I
saw it! I saw the Red Room, I saw Brooklyn's life and it was....there was so much pain,
loneliness...I can't even describe the horrors. You guys saw the scars just now! But you can't
even begin to imagine...."

Damian knew some of those horrors, Brooklyn had spoken of her childhood to him many a
nights.

The others on the other hand, seemed to be guessing worst possible scenarios in their heads,
especially Mr. Stark and his fiancé who were now clutching one another on their own couch,
fighting the tears from their eyes.

"When I volunteered for the experiments, when I became this" Maximoff said, raising a hand
that red magic emerged from, "They only taught me how to use this power to kill, but even
then, I feel most of my power is mystery. The only thing that helped me was training with
others like me, with the mutants"

Belova stood up from her chair then, arms up in protest as she shouted, "You want to send my
sestra to a place full of mutants!? You want her to keep this power when we're not sure what
it could do to her!? Take it out!"

The famous Black Widow stood up then, taking a seat beside Belova, looking as worried and
disheveled as everyone in the room, though she was the one who hid it best.

"What else can we do? Ask Ivan to clarify what they did? This comes from an alien object we
barely know a thing about. The tesseract was used to make enhanced weapon technology in
the 40s. Howard Stark found that thing in the 70s, but even he managed to make very little of
it during Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S, only saying it could be used for unlimited sustainable
energy. What does power that can create a wormhole into space do to a person?" Natasha
Romanoff said.

The Captain quickly joined her side with an agreeing nod, "At least Xavier is used to dealing
with kids who can't control their powers. If we can't figure out how to control or get rid of
this alien magic, he should be able to help"

Belova huffed in annoyance.

"You don't get it. Brooklyn and I, we are very weary of this sort of thing, the Red Room made
us hate the unknown. This is not something she would want to control, this is something she
would want gone. Ivan doesn't want Brooklyn, the trained assassin, for his schemes, he wants
his flame back!"

"How do you know that!?" said the Flacon, almost as if daring Belova to lie.

Damian was done listening to this useless debate, especially as the princess and her team
pulled up a hologram of something coursing through Brooklyn's body, as their graphs
measuring who knew what went up to the highest point.

His beloved was frowning in her sleep, hands clutched into fists and feeling clear discomfort
from the familiarity of being hooked up to machinery.

Before Belova could reveal Brooklyn had been captured, something she likely did not want
told yet, Damian stood up from his seat, scanning the eyes of everyone in the room with a
leveled look of his own, even to the King in the room.

"Regardless of what the Red Room would want to do with the Stark, this sort of unknown
abilities will only make her weaker, more isolated, and with all that fear, it will be easy for
someone like Ivan The Great to get to her like this. We're both assassins, we train and perfect
our craft to become honed weapons, perhaps she should at least learn some control over this
ability before you idiots can debate if it can be removed or not"

Mr. Stark left his wife's embrace, speed walking over to Damian until he was standing mere
centimeters from the teen. The man's glare was strong, but the Wayne remained unbothered,
almost amused at the thought of getting in a fight with the famed Iron Man.

"You have no say here! What are you still doing here anyways? Gathering intel for your
father? Well, listen to me Jr. McGlare, I don't want you here or anywhere near my daughter!"
Mr. Stark yelled, ignoring the shouts from his cabal.

Damian remained unbothered, knowing that the only thing that mattered was if Brooklyn
wanted him around, not her father.

"Your opinion is inconsequential to me, Anthony Stark. In fact, it's inconsequential to your
daughter as well, because despite all your intelligence and power, you hold no understanding
of what it's like to be an assassin, and it bothers you. In this instance, even your enemy knows
her best, and I say that she won't want to be pricked and prodded like a lab rat, that it may
very well make things worse. If you don't believe me, ask the witch since she saw everything.
Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong" Damian said, turning his face to the woman behind him.

The Maximoff was wide eyed, nervous, but ultimately nodded in agreement, something that
only increased Mr. Stark's frown.

"Just because you're a murderer doesn't mean you know my daughter" the man spat back.

Damian rolled his eyes, but instead of throwing a punch, he merely walked around the Stark
lazily. Over his shoulder, he replied, "Of course, its the fact that we both chose not to kill
anymore that makes me know your daughter better than you ever will"

No one bothered to stop Damian as he made to leave the room, sparing one quick glance at
his beloved with the silent promise of coming back.

Outside Jon was pacing wildly in the hall, eyes wide with fear when he caught sight of the
Wayne.

"Is Brooklyn alright?" Jon asked reverently.

"She's stable...they're thinking of trying to remove the power or sending her to some mutant
stronghold to control her abilities" Damian said, then added with determination, "And it is
our job to find out where that is"

The door behind them opened once again, and though Damian expected an angered Stark to
walk out for a fight, it was Belova who made her way forward to them, unaccompanied.

"I know where to start looking" she said, gesturing for them to follow her down the hall.

When Jon followed, Damian had little choice but to go as well.

"Why aren't you back inside with your people?" Damian asked, unable to stop being slightly
weary of Belova at all times, even after all this time working together.

The girl smiled fondly at Jon, then turned to him with a serious look.
"They're too busy arguing over the best course of action, like they do with your family and
the Justice league. You, Jon, Ned, Peter, Brook and I never waste time like that, we act, thats
the kind of team we are. So let's go find out what we can about this so called Xaviers, and
about the tesseract SHIELD seems to know so much and so little about" Belova said.

He'd never once heard her admit she was part of the team, then again, Damian had not been
very vocal about recognizing the team to begin with.

But she was right, they would act, find out what was best for their teammate. They had intel
the Avengers did not, they knew Ivan wanted his flame back, that he'd likely gone through all
that trouble recently to acquire it.

Brooklyn had mentioned once that when she woke up in capture, her blood was being
drained, something they had both assumed to be torture, even when it was a long forgotten
and medieval method.

Perhaps they had been trying to get her blood for other purposes, for the abilities she
possessed. It could also be possible that Ivan's summons had not been to have another
assassin fight for him, but to have that fire win him whatever war he was in.

Either way, they'd make sure Brooklyn was safe and protected, that was the priority of the
team.

When they made it back into the blonde's chambers, they video called Parker and Leeds,
sharing everything that had occurred and what they needed to investigate. They all got to
work quickly, pushing aside their worry and concern.

Damian observed the way everyone in the room was as determined as he was to find a
solution, that they cared for Brooklyn's safety.

It was then, stuck in a room in Wakanda, that Damian fully realized that these people could
be trusted, that perhaps they are not just acquaintances or unavoidable bothers.

They were his team.

"Yelena, you and Peter find out more about the cube with me. Jon, Ned, you two find out
more about Xavier's school. We have approximately five hours before we are expected at a
meeting, we should at least have some questions answered by then" Damian commanded.

Everyone went silent for a few heartbeats.

Of course it was Jon that pointed out, "You called them by their names!"

That he had...

"Obviously. We're a team" Damian answered, as if it was an obvious response.

Jon seemed thrilled by the idea, because he placed a fist before him, waiting until Yelena and
a reluctant Damian joined, Peter and Ned doing so in the screens.
 "Team Dynasty unite at last! Let's do our best, for Brooklyn!" Jon shouted excitedly, and
Damian was surprised that everyone carried that same vigor of pride.

"Whatever it takes" he murmured.

A promise.

Brooklyn had once mentioned that she and Peter were supposed to be the dynasty of the
Avengers, that they were mean to take their place one day, something Jon and Damian
would've done as well for the Justice League.

Perhaps being the Dynasty would not be such a bad thing, it was certainly better than all the
other names Jon and Peter had come up with.

For Brooklyn, they finally united as a team, and they would remain as such no matter what
the threat or the situation. Damian would fight for his teammates and they would fight for
him. They would become strong together, save lives, and depend on one another.

The concept was foreign, perhaps less so because of Damian's time working along with his
siblings.

But this felt different, he did not feel like a Robin trying to prove he was a strong as the
others, here he was a leader, someone like them.

With that, they got to work, and all the while, Damian couldn't help but still worry for his
beloved, but at least he left less alone in that emotion.

He also could not longer deny the inevitability of his previous thoughts, of knowing that he
had an infatuation with Brooklyn Stark.

Seeing her like that, dying, imagining a world without her around. It had made Damian angry.
It had felt like a punch to the gut.

And even if she did not feel the same, he would fight for her, whatever it takes.

Chapter End Notes

Now you guys know the truth! I've always tried to drop little hints of Brooklyn's
abilities, like always describing her anger as something burning and hot whereas others
have a cold as ice type of anger.

There were all those instances mentioned above, but also some more subtle ones.

Brooklyn's last name before becoming a Stark had been Jones, and that was deliberate.
The last name Jones comes from an MCU character called Angelica Jones, who is also
known as Firestar.
She appeared with Spiderman in 'Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends'. Like Angelica,
Brooklyn has the ability to generate and manipulate microwave radiation, allowing her
to fly and create intense heat and flames.

Thats where the red hair came from, as the two also have that in common. Angelica's
hero suit is a golden yellow, hence why I made Brooklyn's suit a golden color. This is
not to say Brooklyn is Angelica, they don't have much else in common, but she was an
inspiration...a bit of an Easter egg if I'm honest.

When I started the story, I always knew Brooklyn's days in the Red Room as the heiress
had been hard, that Ivan had made sure she'd be stronger than any Widow before her,
thats why I mentioned from the first few chapters that HYDRA had ties to them too.

Also congrats to Damian for coming to terms with his feelings. I'm sure Damlyn
(Damian x Brooklyn) fans will appreciate it. As fot Jolena (Jon x Yelena) shippers, hope
the progress with Jon and Yelena has been fun to watch!

This was also one of the scenes I've had in my head from the beginning but had not been
able to share anything about without spoiling too much! Glad the truth is out now!
 The Lab Rat
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Damian POV-

Trust was new to him, a foreign concept that was only held in his mind by the experiences he
shared with Brooklyn all these months.

Though he'd come to welcome the concept of having a team for a while, it wasn't until
recently that Damian realized he could trust his teammates to a higher extent than before.

Right now, his trust was in the hands of Ned and Yelena, knowing he could count on them to
change the camera feeds and bring down the security measures leading into the frozen room
that was more of a giant cooler than anything.

Standing before the cold vibranium door, Damian searched the empty hallways for guards.
He knew the Avengers would be busy for three more hours in am ongoing meeting, which
gave him just enough time to relay all he'd learned, and to make sure his beloved was ok.

Something had changed in Damian, something which his mind was not entirely sure was a
good thing yet, it was enough to make him hesitate to open the door.

He had feelings for Brooklyn, that much was certain now. Though Damian would NEVER
admit to being afraid of something out loud, he couldn't fight the voice in his head that made
him afraid of going inside.

What if Brooklyn could see the change in him? What if she knew of his alteration of
emotions and revoked their friendship?

Ridiculous...

Damian Wayne was not a person that would be controlled and driven by emotion, he would
not cower at the mere concept of seeing his best friend. Those were absurd fears for simple
people.

As soon as the teen opened the door, the coldness of the space bit at his skin.

The walls, floor, and roof were covered in a layer of frost, and the temperature inside was
enough for Damian to subconsciously unravel the orange patterned wakandan fabric across
his chest to place over the sheer sleeves of his white shirt.

It was dark, cold, quiet.

Brooklyn despised all of those things, such a thought was obvious by the way she huddled by
her bed as best as the wires attached to her arms and temples would allow.
It had been two days since he saw her, living with only Yelena's intel from the Avengers that
his beloved was safe and stable. Sure, Brook was not burning anymore, but she looked
troubled all the same.

Seeing her like that, it reminded him of the way he'd found her that day she was taken.
Damian had to fight the urge to rip out the machinery, to get her out of here, far from the
loneliness and fear.

But something told him she would refuse the rescue.

Brooklyn looked up from her holographic tablet which had been displaying Wakandan
symbols Damian had yet to study. When her gaze met his own, a bit of the frown on her face
dissipated, and when she smiled faintly at him....those feelings surfaced in greeting.

The teen moved to sit on the small bed after nodding her way, trying to figure out what to say
to make it better, but he'd never been particularly gifted with words, much less comforts...that
was Brooklyn's specialty.

His thoughts paused when Brook's eyes went wide, as she scooted away from him.

At first Damian assumed she'd somehow found out about his change of feelings, that she was
disgusted or displeased by it. That brought a foreign sinking feeling deep within his chest, an
uncomfortable ache that almost threatened to make him flinch.

Then Damian saw the fear in her eyes, noticed that his beloved placed her hands at her back,
further away from him.

"Damian," she said breathlessly, "You can't be that close to me, what if I accidentally hurt
you?! How did you even get in here?"

He had no clue why seeing that fear in her, directed at her own person, was so displeasing,
unsettling in a way that made him want to prove Brooklyn wrong.

Damian knew her fear had evidence to back it up, Yelena had mentioned Brook had burned
three doctors accidentally prior to being placed in this glorified metal prison. He knew the
thin metal cuffs resting on her wrists were working to constantly cool her body from
whatever reaction it was having recently.

The Wayne was usually one to do the logical thing, in this case, it would be to do as Brooklyn
said, keep his distance to not get burned.

But he did no such thing.

Damian shook his head, watching her shaking body as he reached for one of her arms,
bringing one of her hands into his own. Brooklyn looked horrified by the action, fighting to
keep her hand back until Damian wove his fingers between her own.

"Dami! Are you out of your mind!?" she whispered harshly, her reaction making the space
between them warmer than before.
Truth was, Damian was somehow certain flames would not meet his skin. He hadn't been
kidding all these months when he told Brooklyn he trusted her above everyone else, perhaps
it was time he proved it.

So he held onto her hand, scooted closer to drape his patterned fabric across her trembling
shoulders.

"You shouldn't be afraid beloved, I'm not afraid of you"

Brook paused her fussing then, looking deep into his eyes as if searching for something.
After a few heartbeats, she paused, the air turned cold once again and some of that fear
vanished from sight.

"Did I burn you just now?" she asked, unwinding their hands to scan the un-scorched skin of
his palm. She traced her finger across the lines there, sighed in relief with a faint chuckle.

Unsure what to say, how to help, Damian got to business. He told Brooklyn of the research
they were doing on the space cube that granted her these abilities, and on the school the
Avengers were planning on sending her to.

Brooklyn took the information with a calm demeanor, even when he knew she was already
working through it.

"I heard that there WAS a place where mutants studied, dad told me Wanda was sent there for
a time, but I doubt they will say anything to you and the team" Brooklyn mused, "I'm not sure
if its a good or bad place, but there is someone else here than will know better than most"

Damian raised a brow.

"At my first gala, I met a man named Reed Richards, he mentioned his son was a mutant that
attended Xavier's..." Brooklyn smiled at last, "and it seems that we are in luck, because his
son came here with us"

He had not been expecting to come out of this room with a new lead for information, but now
Damian had the very important mission to question this so called Franklyn Richards, son of
the famous scientist and inventor.

Despite this new objective, Damian stayed as long as he could with Brooklyn, asking how
she was feeling even when he was usually not one for simple talk . Brooklyn had made space
for him to sit beside her, hands still clasped together as she mentioned her routine of tests and
just sitting in this freezing room trying to do something useful.

Her family visited often, in fact, they were due back soon. Unless Damian could come up
with a quick lie as to why a Wayne had snuck in to see a Stark, or choose to engage in a fight
with Mr. Stark...then he had to leave.

Before he could stand, Brook placed a cold hand on his arm, holding him from walking away,
long enough to say;
"Thank you for doing all this research for me, for risking coming all the way here and to keep
me company" she said, "I'm due to get my phone back later so I can keep up with some
school stuff, so I can try to do some research of my own later"

Too bad they wouldn't be able to use it to communicate. Damian and all the others who had
come into Wakanda had not been allowed their cellphones, and since the Kimoyo Beads
bracelet was enough to communicate in this country amongst those allowed to come, no one
had complained yet.

Damian had left his own bracelet back in the room in case they could track him with it
anyways.

"I'll try to stop by at night if we find anything useful" Damian replied, caressing her palm
with his thumb, something he'd grown used to doing subconsciously.

Brooklyn smiled, leaning forward to kiss his nose, a move with Damian did not back away
from.

Though the room was cold, as was her skin, Brook's lips were still warm and familiar.

As he made to leave, Damian's eyes lingered on his beloved for a few seconds, wishing he
could leave his scarf-like clothing item behind to keep her warm, but she'd insisted it was an
unnecessary risk not only of his visit but if her body got warm...the flames could return.

Damian had never had such troubled thoughts of leaving someone behind until he met
Brooklyn, since that day the Joker had been about to kill him and she chose not to leave him
behind.

It was bothersome to feel, to have such emotions keep him lingering at the doorstep for a few
seconds.

Brooklyn smiled at him then, something no doubt meant to be reassuring.

Oddly enough, it did help in some sense, enough so to finally make his way out the hall and
back towards the dorms.

Damian would like to think that he was stronger than his desires, that his feelings for
Brooklyn could be pushed aside, but it appeared that such hopes were useless....

But he and the others had a mission now, and the first step was to track down this supposed
mutant, the son of a famous retired hero.

***********

Brooklyn POV-

Grandpa Steve had come by shortly after Damian left, and Brook had busied herself
examining the surprisingly scar-free skin of her shoulder where she'd been struck.

It was like nothing had happened thanks to advanced Wakandan healing.

Steve had lingered for awhile, mentioning something about everyone being busy at a
meeting, so he'd brought her phone, some school work, and her gauntlets so Brook could
keep busy tinkering.

It was a nice gesture, one that turned out to be important once she realized how many unread
texts she had from Tanya.

Brook had waited until a nurse had stopped taking another blood sample, waiting for the
results, to see what was going on.

Her first instinct was that something had gone wrong.

Could it be the Joker? Had he done something to the school?

Turned out, it was just some good old fashioned Tanya drama. Twenty texts worth of detail
over the major date she'd managed to score with Raven, the half-demon girl Brooklyn had
witnessed her friend kissing at the yule dance.

Tanya also sent a photo of her, MJ, Peter, and Ned at the library. What was quite interesting
was that Tanya was not seated beside Michelle for once, but rather across. Tanya NEVER
missed a chance to be near MJ, but something from the dance had changed that, something
Brooklyn had not been able to ask her friend about in the days that came after the dance.

Though Brook was certain Peter and Ned both had information they wanted to relay, Brook
chose to use her time to text Tanya for once, finally inquiring what had occurred that made
the teen like Raven so much.

Tanya's text were always quick to reply.

I thought you were in Wakanada for some work thing? No phones allowed right?

Brooklyn chuckled to herself, probably making the lingering nurse think the teen was insane.

I have it back for a few hours. Seriously though, what happened at the dance? Why are you
going on a date with Raven?

Never mind that Brook was still weary of the half-demon girl (even if she was considered a
hero of the Teen Titans), but Brooklyn had know Tanya for some time, knew the girl felt
strongly and passionately, not easily swayed away from her emotions.

Girl talk! Finally!, Tanya replied, Well, the dance was a big turning point for me. I wanted to
see if MJ and I stood a chance, to see if she could look past Peter and see that she could be
with me.

Brooklyn could see the logic in that, no wonder Tanya had not minded Peter shared her date.
It had been a test of emotions in a way only the cheerleader would come up with.

And? Did you ask her to date you and MJ said no?
Brook had been so busy trying to wage whether or not Raven was a threat to even notice any
from of altercation, and the dance went by relatively well aside from the little issue with the
secret packages from the assassins.

MJ and Tanya seemed to be on good terms lately, unless there was an emotion Brook was not
familiar with at play....

Nothing like that silly! When she and I danced... there was no spark there, that's when I knew
that what I had for Michelle was hopeless, a crush with no foundation. Plus MJ was looking
at Peter most of the time.

Again, her lack of experience with emotions and comfort was a crippling weakness.

Still, Brooklyn settled for a simple sorry, even though she was certain that would do no good
in this situation.

Don't be! You know how people say that when god closes a door it opens a window. Well, he
demolished an entire wall because then Raven came along. We got to talking and found out
we have a lot in common. Plus, when we danced...ah, it was magical, it felt like the whole
world could disappear! I felt comfortable and at home.

There is a pull when it comes to her, and when we kissed, she kissed me back! It felt like the
whole world disappeared. It was lovely!

Brooklyn's eyes went wide for a second.

She'd experienced something similar once....

Dancing with Peter had been pleasant, but nothing like the feeling of rightness Tanya
described was there. That content and ease...Brooklyn only ever felt that with one person, not
just while dancing...

That feeling of detachment from the world at the lock of lips that her friend described,
Brooklyn had felt it too with that same individual...

Could such a feeling be experienced between friends? Brooklyn asked curiously, for some
reason making sure her screen was out of view from the lingering nurse, as if this were a
coveted secret.

If her suspicions were right, it might as well be her greatest secret of all...

Yes and no, Tanya replied, With someone you like, its like nothing else matters, you would
do anything to stay in their embrace. The truest of love doesn't have to do with lust, it's just
right. I felt something like that with Raven, she wasn't like the other people I've flirted with
or dated. I know she's not exactly human, but I really connected with her, we had a lot in
common despite her being hero and all. It's like we were in the same wavelength.

That made sense, but it was impossible....because thats how she felt about Damian.
He was her rock, the one person in the world who would not turn away from her. They were a
team, and that liberating sense of rightness was what Brooklyn had assumed to be the feeling
of best friends.

Could it be possible that she'd been wrong for some time now?

But Damian was her best friend! They were not even supposed to be that close to begin with!

And...Damian...he had never shown any signs of liking anyone, had actually scoffed at the
idea of crushes and love, promising to never let himself become so weak. If he ever got word
of what Brook could possibly be feeling, he'd be the last person to reciprocate her feelings.

Sure, they had already broken many barriers between them, but this was just something
someone like Damian Wayne would not feel, at least for her who was someone so damaged
and with enough baggage to make a relationship torturous.

But it did not matter, because it was silly to think she had a crush on Dami, there was just no
way that was possible....right?

****

Mom and dad had arrived half an hour later, brining food and her test results.

The food was great, the results...not as pleasant.

By what Princess Shuri could detect so far, the traces of the make up of the Tesseract were
very distinct because of their specific gamma radiation levels. The tests on Vision's stone and
Wanda's magic proved to hold similar radiation that not only the Tesseract held, but also
Loki's staff.

The curious thing was, the radiation was not harmful to the human girls at all. In fact, it
reminded dad an awful lot of how the Hulk had come to exist, when Uncle Banner had
become exposed to enough gamma radiation to kill him, but instead, another result had
occurred.

As of right now, there seemed to be no correlation with her and Wanda's unfortunate abilities,
and as of right now, there seemed to be no way to remove whatever this was.

"Don't worry, it will all get better soon enough" dad said, sitting on a nearby chair, "Besides,
think of how cool it is to have fire bend at your will!"

Yeah, cool until she burned someone, or an entire civilization!

"I just want this out of my body" Brooklyn admitted, pouting as she continued to munch on
her sad little sandwich.

Mom and dad were silent across the room, looking to one another as if they were debating
something. It was the thing they did, like they could hold conversations in their minds.
Then, dad finally said, "You know, if you wanted to remove those scars on your back and on
your wrist, and well...all the others.... I'm sure Dr. Cho could do so..."

Ah, Brooklyn had been wondering if they'd ever bring that up. She knew they had all seen
them, the marred scars other back that were too deep to heal, a constant reminder of her days
at the Red Room.

Not only had they seen that, but someone else had seen more.

A nurse had mentioned Wanda was isolating herself for a few days to process all she'd seen in
Brooklyn's memories, trying to recover form the horrors she did not live but experienced
somehow with that magic of hers.

The teen knew that both of those things were likely weighing heavily on her parents. It was
the whole reason she never wanted them to know about them in the first place.

"I don't want them removed" Brooklyn admitted, unable to get rid of the faint bite in her
voice, "They're a part of me, a reminder of my past. Getting rid of them will do nothing to
erase all of that anyways"

Mom huddled the heavy black coat closer to her body as she dared to ask, "How did you get
the scars on your back, sweetie?"

Brooklyn had never spoken of her scars to anyone other than Damian...who she totally did
not have unknown superior feelings for...and even though Pepper and Tony were her parents,
there was something about speaking to them about it that just seemed odd and uncomfortable.

They had never experienced such things, would likely get nightmares if Brook went into too
much detail.

So she explained simply, "They were just punishments, the worst ones you saw are from my
birth mother, she was a teacher for us and one of the most ruthless. The big one in the middle
is actually from when I refused to kill Yelena, but that was long ago"

Mom and dad were silent for a moment, looking like they might go comfort her, but
Brooklyn was still far too aware that though this cooler was a good idea and was freezing her
body...there was always the chance that something might go wrong.

So she told her parents she'd try to get some rest in an effort to get them to stay away, and
both of them had sent her some air kisses before going back out the door. Before dad left
through, he took one last look at Brook and said with all the certainty in the world, "Don't
worry kid, I'll make this right"

Brook wasn't sure he could, not when there was space magic involved, not when they
couldn't find Uncle Bruce for his specialty in gamma radiation...

But her optimism was only as strong as her hope in her family, the power they held together.

So she let herself believe that whatever was wrong with her would be fixed soon, before
someone other than Brooklyn had to pay the consequences for Ivan's experiments.
Chapter End Notes

Just a little introduction for things to come now that we are at the end of Book 1! These
are a lot of chapters, so I hope you guys enjoy the end of the ride!
 Frank Richards, Spill Your Secrets
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Jon Kent POV-

It was sad that a sentence like, 'lets go find the mutant son of Mister Fantastic to see if a super
secret mutant school is good for our friend who can now control fire' could be said with
absolute seriousness.

Life before going to Midtown and been anything but dull, but this was a new level crazy Jon
found himself not minding as much as he thought he would.

He didn't even know Reed Richards had a son who was a mutant! Most people in the world
actually accepted the Fantastic four because they were not born with their abilities like
mutants.

Though this had happened before Jon was born, he knew the four superheroes had been
astronauts, exposed to some cosmic space rays that made them obtain powers like something
out of a comic book.

But could those powers be hereditary, or were the children of Reeds and Susan just plain
mutants by luck? It was all kinds of crazy to think about it, considering everyone thought the
children of the fantastic four couple were...for lack of a better term...'normal'.

On their walk to find the kid, Damian actually further sent his brain in a blender when he
suggested something that was actually genius logic.

The fantastic four had gotten their powers thanks to cosmic rays in space, and Yelena had
heard mention of Brooklyn having the same gamma radiation as space weapons from Loki
the god.

Could both of those sources be similar?

It was possible, considering the Fantastic Four already had a member who could summon
flame. Jon had seen him many times on TV, seen the man fly like a burning comet, and it was
the coolest thing ever!

But Jon's excitement couldn't be shown right now, not when the three teens were worried sick
for their teammate. Yelena just got a text that Brook was being put through more tests, but
that the princess of Wakanda could've come up with a very temporary solution to stop the
flames once the Stark left the cooler they kept her in.

No one was more on edge that Damian thought. All throughout their lesson on vibranium
things this morning, the Wayne had seemed distant, his eyes wandering to the empty seat
beside him more than once.
It was actually kind of adorable.

Even now it the main courtyard of the palace, Damian did not enjoy the rays of the sun which
every one else was basking in. His gaze only honed on looking for the the kid Brooklyn had
mentioned.

Franklin Richards.

Jon just hoped Damian hadn't scared the kid to death or pissed him off at some gala or
something like that...which was probably the case with mosts teens and young adults here
with them.

Too bad his Wakandan bracelet didn't have a way to track the kid....

While they inspected the tables where people enjoyed some snacks, the pond were others
were feeding exotic fish, and the rest of the garden teens lounged in, Jon decided to fill the
unnecessary silence to try and talk to his friend at last, something he and Yelena had agreed
should happen since last night.

"You know Damian," Jon said causally, "I'm glad you and Brooklyn managed to be come
friends. You know no one in the team is bothered by it, none of us would tell anyone. You can
stop pretending not to care all the time"

Damian threw his gaze away from the courtyard, brows raised at Yelena as he replied, "You
hate me, don't you have a problem with us being friends?"

Yelena smirked, crossing her arms over the ocean blue patterned one piece jumper that made
her look really pretty. Not that she didn't usually look pretty! She always looked great, like a
goddess of beauty and death! But good death!

Ugh...Jon was a mess.

"My sestra has good instincts most of the time, if she found something worthwhile in the son
of Talia al Ghul, then who am I to question it?" she answered simply, perhaps not the nicest
way to put it, but it was enough for Damian to sigh in acceptance.

Damian admitted that he and Brooklyn no longer hated one another, meaning they were
friends in Damian language.

On call, Peter and Ned expressed their happiness at the news, with Peter saying this might
help them all become a better team. It was true, which is why everyone in the team didn't
hesitate to promise to keep the secret from everyone in case it got back to Wayne or Stark
ears.

But there was something else going on with Damian, Jon could tell.

It was normal to be worried, the Avengers agreed that it would not be a good idea not to let
anyone know Brooklyn had abilities, not just because the press would hone down other
thanks to all the mutant hate going around, but also to keep such knowledge from Ivan.
That WAS worrisome.

If the evil man knew the powers had 'awakened', he might just want her back all the more,
and thats what Damian had been the most worried about since last night when the two had
talked before bed.

Damian seemed to go beyond that worry though, not just fearing for Brooklyn's life, but for
her state of mind. He'd whispered about it in the halls today, almost bit Yelena's head off
when she said maybe Brooklyn would grow used to the isolation for now.

Poor choice of words, but Yelena truly did care for Brook, maybe not the way Damian did,
but it was still progress.

At least now they could all worry together without fighting so much...

All that mental worrying was stopped when Damian pointed to a lone tree at the edge of the
garden, where a kid was sitting down with a pile of books, looking content to be alone. Like
Jon and Damian, the kid was dressed in Wakandan wear. He had the same loose white
sleeved shirt and casual flowing pants as the two, but Reed's 'chest scarf' as Jon liked to call
it, was a shade of red instead of the blue and orange of the two older teens.

He looked like a shy kid, and he did not seem to mind that his companion was not with him.

Though weary, the three teens moved towards him, ignoring the stares from those they
passed. Jon had no clue why everyone was so intimidated by them, but soon he recalled why
thanks to his friends....

Yelena and Damian voiced their hushed plan to interrogate the kid with force, so Jon quickly
knew it would be up to him to help Franklin help them.

It was his turn to take over the secret investigation for everyone's sakes.

When they stood before the kid, Jon stepped forward to sit before the Richards mutant,
smiling brightly at the shy teen.

"Hi! My name is Jon, me and my friends were wondering if we could sit with you!" he said,
being as friendly as possible.

The shy teen nodded, clearly confused by the intrusion, but far too polite to tell them to leave.

Jon urged his friends to keep quiet so they wouldn't scare the poor kid who'd barely turned
fourteen.

He talked to Frank about the weather, Wakanda, and that got the kid to loosen up quickly...at
least with Jon. Frank still occasionally shot weary looks at the other two.

The kid had even loosened up enough to ask where Brooklyn was, something all the students
were gossiping about recently. Jon just said that these past two days she'd been confined to
her room because she got sick with a cold.
Yelena had almost cracked a smile at the irony of his lie, which made Jon feel happy knowing
she was happy! A small daily victory.

It was after they had all picked some plums from the tree above them that Jon dared to ask,
"So, what school do you go to? You clearly love to learn", pointing to the books around him
from the library.

Frank smiled shyly, "Just a boarding school in New York"

Jon could hear the kid's heartbeat speeding up, a little trick he'd picked up since the yule
dance. Actually, whenever he talked about Brooklyn recently, Jon had done a little test,
noticing Damian's heart would pickup when he said he hated her before their little heart to
heart earlier.

The skill was basically a full proof a lie detector, like what Pa always used on him and his
sisters back home!

Now he had the skill at his fingertips, and Jon knew Frank was lying.

"Tell us about it" Yelena pressed, leaning back on her arms as she aggressively bit into her
plum.

"There-I...there isn't much to tell, its just a boring private school" Frank said, clutching a
book closer to his chest.

Damian seemed to finally have enough with the casual approach to warm up to the kid, he
simply stated with a glare, "Listen Richards, we know about Xavier's school, and its
fundamental that we learn if its a proper and safe place someone"

Frank looked like he might deny its existence, but after the last sentence he asked worriedly,
"A mutant is in trouble?"

Jon was about to correct him but Damian added, "She is, more or less. Is your school hidden,
capable of defending itself against attack? Does it provide results?"

Frank looked around them wearily, his gaze finally softening when it met Jon's as he leaned
in close to whisper, "You guys can't tell anyone I told you this, but if you are trying to protect
a mutant...then I'm willing to help. I've been going to Xavier's for years so I know its safe and
hidden, of that you dont have to worry. I can't really tell you specifics, but since I've been
there for a while now the professor gives me permission to go home on the weekends, I can
give you updates on your friend then so you don't worry"

Now, this all came down if they believed all Frank said was true about the school being
completely safe and hidden. Jon believed the kid a 100%, but it was Yelena and Damian that
needed the final push of approval.

Even without the personal lie detector, those two were good at being judges of character, so
when they nodded in understanding, Jon knew that Brooklyn truly would be safe in that
unknown place.
Frank could be trusted.

"Why didn't you guys just ask Ms. Storm for this information?" Frank asked suddenly,
genuinely curious.

Now, Jon had been paying minimal attention to everything about this place. Sure, it was an
amazing country and Jon knew how lucky he was to be here, but his attention was more on
making sure Yelena felt comfortable and safe here, especially with Brooklyn gone.

But he didn't recall meeting anyone named Storm, and by the looks of it, neither did Yelena
or Damian.

Seeming to realize a mistake, the kid chuckled nervously and clarified, "Sorry, you guys
must've met her as Ororo, Ms. Ororo Munroe"

Jon was still clueless, but then Damian said, "The woman seen with the King lately, with the
long white hair?"

The kid nodded, "She's a teacher at Xavier's, kind of like our vice principal and Professor
Xavier's closest friend"

Oh, that woman!

She'd come in to a few of the 'classes' these last couple of days, but Jon had no clue she was a
mutant! She seemed really nice actually, Jon had just assumed she was a friend of girlfriend
of the King and called it a day, but perhaps she was more important than he realized.

"She came here with me to make sure I'd be ok" Frank admitted sheepishly with a blush
spreading across his cheeks, "but I think the King is really interested in helping out mutants,
so he and Storm have been talking a lot lately because of it. She'll be there for your mutant
friend too, Storm is a great person with a big heart and she can summon a full blown storm
and lightning at will, so rest assured she'll be safe"

The teens had taken that information, and payed closed attention to Storm for the rest of the
day from a distance like clever little spies.

She truly did seem like a nice woman, in complete control of her abilities, one who seemed to
care for Frank like he was her own child.

When they all gathered in Damian's room and video called Brook now that she had her phone
back and Yelena got her own from the Avengers, they were able to establish a safe way to
talk while she was alone in that cooler waiting for some test results.

She looked like she was freezing, enough so that Jon now understood why Damian was so
worried, though he suspected feelings had something to do with it too.

They told her everything they learned from Frank, and in turn, the freezing Stark told them of
a visit she got from Wanda, the woman with the cool red fog-magic from the Avengers.
Apparently, Wanda had gone to try and convince Brooklyn to go to Xavier's, saying it would
help as long as Brook was willing to learn.

Everyone agreed with the Stark when she mentioned she didn't want to just switch schools,
not just so that Xavier's school wasn't investigated by Ivan, but because if she was gone from
school too long, away from the eyes of the public, people might start to talk and Ivan might
figure it out.

Plus, Brooklyn sheepishly mentioned that they were her friends, and she didn't want to leave
them behind either. Damian seemed to take that personally, in a good way.

Thanks to their reassurance that the school seemed to be safe, the Stark called them later
saying she'd come up with a compromise. She'd leave for the weekend, try to control her
power as best as possible, and once it was safe to return to Midtown, she would.

No one had liked the idea, especially because they wouldn't be able to talk to Brook while she
was there, but knowing Frank would keep an eye on her was a relief, at least for Jon.

"Dad said I'll be leaving with Steve and Wanda tomorrow since they know the school best.
Wanda used to be a student and Grandpa Steve used to take her there all the time, says the
faculty and teachers are great. I'll be there for the rest of the week and weekend. Hopefully,
I'll be able to control this fire enough to get back to school on Monday"

Knowing it was better than to keep her in a Wakandan cooler until a solution could be found,
the team nodded in understanding, Peter and Ned wishing her luck through the call.

It was once they hung up that Yelena leaned back on the floor and said bitterly, "I don't like
that she'll be alone in there without a way to contact us if she needs help, especially if the
place gets attacked by the Red Room to get her back. We don't even know if Brooklyn will
react well to being around so many mutants"

Jon had expected Damian to get to complaining as well, but he merely moved over to the
balcony and said over his back, "I have a plan for that"

Jon sat up against the headrest, pushing the curtains around the bed aside to get a better look
at his friend.

"What do you mean you have a plan? You heard what everyone said, Frank won't tell us
where the school is, nor will Captain America or Wanda. They're the only ones that know,
unless you want to try and befriend the lady who can summon lightning like Thor?" Jon said.

Ned and Peter shared their own confusion through the phone call, and even Yelena looked
like she couldn't figure out his train thought. The only one that ever could was Brooklyn
anyways.

Damian huffed out a tired breath, turning back to them as he said," I do have a plan. Drake
may be insufferable, but he is an even better detective than father, twice the hacker. If anyone
can find the school, it's him. Once I have its location, I'll monitor it for incoming threats from
the Red Room until she returns. I'll use father's satellites"
 Holy...there was no way....

"Tim wont help you" Jon pointed out, "He hates you and you hate him. What makes you
think your brother will cooperate when you can't even tell him why you're interested in the
mutant school anyways?"

Damian smirked then, a wicked and victorious thing.

"He will help because I have something of value to him about the one place he can't hack into
or see. In exchange for information on Wakanda and its technology, he'll give me what I
want" Damian said confidently.

Darn it, that was true. Tim as a sucker for Wakanda's mysteries, Jon had witnessed as much.

Jon was still hesitant as he asked, "You're really willing to talk to your brother, to make a deal
with him?"

Even Yelena had stood up from the floor, starting at Damian expectantly.

His response was quick as sure.

"Brooklyn is my friend, isn't that what we do? Go though hell for one another?"

None of them could argue with that. If anyone would be able to make Damian talk to his
most despised brother...it would be Brooklyn.

The next morning, the three had woken up early, but had not been able to see Brook off when
the Captain and Wanda Maximoff took her away, and the rest of the Avengers went back
home. It had been a private exit to prevent suspicions from the children of the other
companies, but it left the team more worried than ever.

The three had been forced to go back home the next day after a very successful trip, business
wise, and because Xavier's was secret... they had no way to contact their teammate.

It made Damian more jittery than usual when they returned home, and no one in his family
knew why. But Jon kept the secret, assured his friend Brooklyn was strong and could handle
anything, even when they both knew that acquiring these really strong powers had somehow
made her weaker.

Eventually, after the weekend passed, Jon could tell Damian had enough of it.

He'd gone through with his plan and talked to Tim when his family was away on a mission,
had acquired the information he needed in less than an hour.

Jon was just weary of what Damian would do with it when he retuned to Kansas that day...

Chapter End Notes

For those of you who recognized Storm from Xmen, she is actually canonically Queen
of Wakanda. She is a member and former leader of the X-Men, wife of the Black
Panther, and the two actually replaced Susan and Reed Richards (who were X-Men too)
as the team leaders. But this was all in Fantastic Four #543.

Right now in the story, Storm and T'Challa have just met and she is not yet the leader of
the X-men, just a member and a teacher at the school.

As for Franklin Richards, he is actually a very cool character, though right now in his
youth, he is shy and still working out his abilities. In the comics, he is known as
Powerhouse (something you will see soon). He is an Omega-level mutant possessing
vast psionic powers that actually rival those of the Celestials, one of the most powerful
races in the Marvel Universe.

This is just to explain that though there are many elements of the MCU, I don't want to
ignore the comics for both universes, but rather find a nice little balance between the
two.

Next, Xavier's school for mutants!

 Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

Brooklyn POV-

Brook had been holding all her near non-existent faith in the little metal bracelets that
Princess Shuri had made for her. Though they had kept her from combusting during the plane
ride to the compound and throughout the car ride to the school, the teen still felt exposed.

The cold from the vibranium bracelets was uncomfortable, kept her skin relatively cold to the
touch, granted it wasn't like that all the time so it wouldn't kill her...but it was still a sensation
to grow used to. They worked to cool her body somehow, pumping some cooling material
into her body, and had enough safety measures that they would not come off easily.

But the worry of burning something was still there...

Well, at least Stark Industries got the green light to start business with Wakanda after the
Stark Expo, which was a small victory that Brooklyn wasn't sure was worth the state she was
in now, neither was the little 'Wakandan Medal of Honor' dropped off on her bed back at her
apartment for saving a princess' life.

Right now she was on her way to an unknown place full of mutants because of that sacrifice.

Brooklyn wasn't allowed to bring weapons to this unknown place, devices to contact her
loved ones...nothing of value to take on whatever she might face.

Wanda swore during he whole ride that Brooklyn would love that place as much as she had,
but she was also in love with Brooklyn's robotic sibling so...

When Grandpa Steve finally came across a gate after driving though a forest-like 'winter land'
ambiance for hours, Brooklyn was able to read the plaque that appeared once the large gates
opened to let the red 1955 Pontiac Bonneville (Steve was such an old man) pass through.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York

So she was still in New York then, less than an hour away from Queens.

Good to know in case of a needed escape...

Steve did not hesitate to drive forward into this unknown place, and Brooklyn couldn't help
but clutch her golden necklace tightly as she beheld the place she'd be staying at for a few
days, and if she was lucky, maybe just one.

When Brook was told she'd be going to a secret mutant school, she'd been expecting
something smaller than Midtown, maybe run down and hidden in the foliage of a forest...but
this was nothing like what she'd imagined.
A castle, thats what this place was, a towering building that would probably belong in that
Downton Abbey show Happy loved so much.

The grass, bushes, everything the car passed was trimmed and elegant, and once Steve pulled
over by the entrance, Brooklyn could see the signs of life through the many windows of the
building.

This place was huge...how had no one found it yet through a satellite? Yes, it was isolated,
but how had no one wondered what a building this big was for?

"How many students go to this school?" Brooklyn asked the two people in the front seats.

"I was told there were only a handful when the school was established in the late 30s" Wanda
said as she smiled at the school out her window fondly, "Now there are hundreds from all
around the country. Most of the teachers are part of the X-men"

Brooklyn knew about them, these so called X-men who always worked in the shadows
cleaning up mutant messes. The news never got clear photos of them, and Brooklyn had
never thought them to be an organized group, much less professors at this kind of school.

Then again, the world was weird enough as it was...why not this?

It was after a few seconds that Brooklyn realized Steve and Wanda were waiting for HER to
exit the car when she was ready. Brook wasn't sure she'd ever have the guts to leave the
safety of the old car, much less stay in that place for days without her family.

Still, Brooklyn took a deep breath, threw her small backpack over her shoulder, and opened
the car door while trying to look as unbothered as possible. Who knew if the mutants inside
could smell fear.

Brooklyn waited patiently by the steps with Wanda while Steve got her small duffel bag out
the trunk.

She could tell Wanda was excited to be back (even when she was obviously still trying to
keep her distance from Brooklyn). Brook chose to focus on the barely audible voices from
within the large building before her, proving the Sokovian's numbers were probably right,
there truly were hundreds of students in there.

Hundreds of threats.

Brook felt off, out of place without her Stark watch, gauntlets, or weapons. She'd worn baggy
clothes and for once too, and most importantly, forwent her usual red lipstick.

It used to be an armor of sorts, a splash if color to represented a defiance against the dull
grays of a childhood past.

Her lips were bare of rouge today, likely would be for a while.

That red lipstick had been Brooklyn Stark's armor, of the girl who'd known who she was and
what she was fighting for and against. But ever since she found out about the unfortunate
curse placed upon her, that armor did not seem to suit the stranger she was now.

It made her feel vulnerable, less herself.

How such a small missing splash of color could make someone feel so out of sorts was
beyond her. Then again, Brooklyn knew it wasn't just the lipstick that had changed....

When Steve shot her a reassuring smile, the three of them finally moved to go inside the
massive castle, and when the large wooden doors opened on their own without any kind of
visible mechanism, Brooklyn almost bolted away.

But neither Steve nor Wanda had seemed amused, especially when they locked eyes with a
bald old man in wheelchair standing not too far from them, a kind smile on his face.

Teens and kids moved behind him, clutching books and talking to friends and they moved
towards destinations unknown. Each said hi to the man, referring to him as professor.

That meant this was the man who Wanda spoke so highly of, the leader of this institution.

He seemed relatively harmless in that wheelchair of his, his age a comfort to Brooklyn until
she realized he must be the leader for a reason, and since she knew next to nothing about how
mutant powers worked...it brought a bit of hesitation back into her heart.

She lagged a step behind her entourage, let them hug and greet Xavier like they were old
friends. The old man seemed genuinely happy to see them, his voice calm and soothing as he
asked them how the journey was.

While that was happening, Brooklyn was trying to map out the entrances, exits, number of
students, distances from here to the gates, counting the windows...the necessities. All the
while, Brooklyn also noted students were staring at her as they passed, not to gossip, but
genuinely curious by the girl with the black clothes.

Some of them had visible aspects to their mutations, like animal features, different textures to
their skin, eyes of unnatural shades. Some looked perfectly human, but were using their
abilities to do things like summon wind currents to fly over staircases, juggle milk cartons
with black fog, or like the girl surrounded by birds and squirrels that she seemed to be
speaking to like something out of a Disney movie.

No one was fighting, using their abilities malevolently, or getting ready to attack Brook...for
now.

Some people seemed to recognize Wanda and Grandpa Steve as they walked, and while the
two spoke to the professor, they sent enthusiastic waves their way.

No one whispered her last name though, as if they were so isolated they had no clue she was
a Stark...a small relief.

A bell rang then, almost sending Brooklyn jumping out of her skin, ready for an attack until
she realized it was just a warning for students to get to class.
Thats when that soothing voice turned on her, snapping Brook out of her thoughts and
worries. Grandpa Steve and Wanda moved aside to the let the professor's wheelchair move
before Brooklyn, his smile wide as he said, "You must be Brooklyn Stark, it's a pleasure to
meet you young lady"

The mutant extended a hand, which Brook was hesitant to take.

When she realized manners may the the only weapon she had at the moment, she reached
down and shook the man's hand with a forced smile.

"Its a pleasure to meet you Professor Charles Xavier. Your institution is a magnificent sight"
she said, noticing the way Brook's manners seemed to amuse the man.

"Why don't you come with me to my office so we can get everything sorted out. Maybe we
can even finish in time for lunch so you can meet everyone" the man said, already moving his
wheelchair down the path between the staircases, down a bright hall where the last of the
students were rushing into rooms.

Brooklyn looked to Grandpa Steve, letting the panic seep into her features at the prospect of
him leaving her alone in this place. The super-soldier looked to her in pity, but handed over
the double bag, and placed it neatly on her shaking shoulder.

This time it wasn't shaking from the cold of the vibranium bracelets.

Steve smoothed down her jacket, ran a hand through her hair, then reached into his pocket to
fish out a plastic bag containing some of his delicious homemade cookies, handing that over
as well.

As the scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafted her senses, Grandpa Steve said, "Don't be afraid.
Xavier will call us if you need help and your dad will be here to pick you up if needed. Just
focus on figuring out your powers in peace"

Brooklyn scoffed, "I'm surrounded by mutants and you want me to relax?"

Steve smiled down at her, "Maybe you'll also learn that not all mutants are bad while you stay
here. Just keep an open mind kid, we'll be here if you need us, but just try to make the most
out of the weekend, ok?"

Brook felt like sprinting out the doors, to go back home with her friends and family, but she
was already starting to feel the horrible warmth from her hands. A reminder she was a threat,
and this place was her only shot at going back to normal.

So she nodded weakly, clutched her duffle bag, and walked down the hall to where the
professor was waiting for her. She waved at Wanda and Steve one last time, and once she was
beside the professor as they made their way down the wooden halls, Brooklyn swore to
herself she would not look back at the two...because then she'd leave with them for sure.

Before she'd left for this place, dad had told Brooklyn that he'd be here in the blink of an eye
if she needed him. Now Brook just had to repeat that to herself, letting her mind realize she
was not a prisoner never to be seen again.

There was a way out.

The bald man led her to a room at the end of a series of halls, to a large office with a desk that
accommodated for his wheelchair.

There were photos all along the walls as well as college diplomas to his name.

The photos depicted students, friends of his younger years, and even some with a group of
people in black suits with belts containing different colored 'X' symbols.

That must be the famous group of X-men.

Aside from the professor, a blue looking demon, and the huge blue beast, they all looked
relatively young and normal, around Steve's age (if you didn't count the defrosting thing).
There was a woman with white hair, a man with metal claws, and someone Brooklyn actually
recognized from her first gala.

Mr. Worthington, the wealthy man with the angel wings.

He was part of the X-men!?

Turning back around, Brooklyn caught sight of the professor smiling at her curiosity, and
with a gentle hand, motioned for her to sit on one of the velvet chairs before his desk.

He was kind enough to offer some sweets, which Brooklyn declined out of nervousness. She
was too busy wondering what mutation the man before her had, and keeping a foot ready to
bolt out the door.

To her surprise, the man looked down at her sleeved arms and asked what her vibranium
bracelets were for, even when they were out of sight.

Weird. Well, weirder if he weren't a mutant.

"Its a temporary solution to my problem" she confessed, "A rather painful one at that, but
they constantly pump shots of some frozen substance to keep my skin at a cold temperature"

Even with the cold weather and the bracelet, she had not frozen yet, likely because the
bracelets had been designed to keep her at a temperature just low enough that it would not
kill her. Though Brook was still freezing under all her layers.

"Your powers activate on their own then?" the professor asked, hands folded neatly on the
mahogany table.

"Yes, they just keep growing and growing until I pass out from the heat or I end up burning
half a giant crop field" Brooklyn admitted bitterly, trying not to imagine what had happened
after the battle or to the poor nurses that had tended to her later, repressing the memories so
her curse wouldn't activate.
The professor was silent for a while, then very gently asked, "Would you mind if I got into
your mind, I think I know why your powers are beyond your control, and I want to see what
we're working with"

Did he just casually say...read her mind...

"You can do that?" Brooklyn asked wearily, thinking back to the nightmares and trauma
Wanda now possessed because of accidentally reading the Stark's mind.

"Yes", he confessed kindly, wheeling his chair around the desk, "I'm a telepath, who can read
and control the minds of others, that is my power"

Oh no...Brooklyn hadn't signed up for this shit.

When he rounded the table, Brooklyn stretched out her hands defensively, not caring if
anyone heard her yelling, "Then stay away from mine! I don't mean to be rude but you don't
want to see what's in there. Wanda read my mind and now she needs therapy, she can't even
look at me for too long! Do you want that to happen to you!?"

The professor smiled gently, not offended in the least.

"I have used my gift to help many find their path, and I've never witnessed anything that
made me turn away. It's the greatest gift I have, to bear their pain without breaking, and it
comes not from my mutation, but from the most human part all of us can posses...hope"

Yeah, as if hope would do anything against Ivan and her past!

Though she still sounded very panicked, Brooklyn tried not to yell as loud this time as she
replied, "I don't want you to see who I am! I don't want this fire! It's too dangerous, don't you
understand!? Maybe not, considering you apparently have great power of your own!"

The bald man kept his wheelchair a respectable distance away, looking calm and
understanding as if he wouldn't push her into doing whatever he needed in order to read her
mind (if he hadn't already).

Xavier just looked like....like he wanted her to understand something.

Softly, the old man said, "When an individual acquires great power, the use or misuse of that
power is everything, Miss Stark. It's true that a gift can often be a curse sometimes. Give
someone wings, and they may fly too close to the sun. Give them the power of prophecy, and
they may live in fear of the future. Give them the greatest gift of all, powers beyond
imagination, and they may think they are meant to rule the world. But we are all here because
we don't believe in that, we want to make the world a better place, isn't that what you want as
well? Captain Rogers mentioned you wanted to be an Avenger like your father"

"There is a lot you don't know about me" Brooklyn replied, "You don't understand"

The man nodded, the placed a hand where his heart should be, "Then help me understand, let
me see what's causing this reaction of your powers. Let me help you"
In truth, Brooklyn did want to stop this reaction of her curse more than anything, and trusting
the professor seemed like a more and more attractive option by the second. Maybe he was
using those powers to control minds to ease her, but if so, why was he asking for her
permission if he could just go into her mind and see what he wished?

This man claimed to have a moral code, had the trust of his people and Grandpa Steve. Plus,
Brooklyn had a sinking feeing that Steve was right, the more she resisted, the longer this
would take.

"Fine" Brooklyn said, "Will it hurt? What do I have to do?"

The professor smiled, "Don't worry, you won't feel a thing"

The man closed his eyes, hand going to his temple as his brows scrunched in slight
concentration.

In seconds, the man opened is eyes, looking like he'd been gone for a while. Brook had no
idea how much of her life he could see, if it was just what Wanda had witnessed.

He didn't look upset or scared, just...like he was trying to figure what he'd seen.

"Why aren't you freaking out, did the anger and pain not scare you off?" she asked, dying to
know what he'd seen and wondering if her assassin background would get her kicked out of
this place.

"There's so much more to you than you know, not just pain and anger, Brooklyn" the man
said gently while wheeling back to his desk, "There's good, too, I felt it. And when you can
access all of that, you'll possess a power that will belong to no one but you. Right now, your
power is attributed to your fear and anger, something you have to control if you hope to get a
hold of your abilities"

Thats it? She had to control her emotions? Snuff them away.

That should be easy enough, she's been doing that for years of not feeling anything in the Red
Room.

Only...it wasn't as easy as she'd imagined this time around.

********

Brook was taken to a large rustic looking bedroom on the third floor where she could drop off
her things, which she didn't even bother to unpack thinking she'd just be here for a few hours
after she controlled her emotions.

Since students still had classes to attend to, the professor said it would be a great time to go
outside and practice somewhere he promised wouldn't harm a soul. When they stepped out
back to an area devoid of trees, with little arrow targets everywhere, Brooklyn realized that
Xavier really was intending on her using the fire today.
A woman had come out with them to the clearing. She had dark skin, light white hair, and a
smile as she introduced her self as Storm. Like her namesake, the woman was quick to reveal
her mutation when she raised her hands in the air, eyes going white as the clouds of snow
above them dissipated so they could train in peace.

Brooklyn was stunned for a second at the ease in which she controlled them immovable
forces of nature like it was nothing. She was even more so when a guy with brown hair who
looked only a few years older than Brooklyn came surfing in a path of pure solid ice.

He'd introduced himself as Bobby, yet another teacher at this school.

He was no doubt here in case the fire did become a bit too much, and thought Brooklyn did
not want to feel anyone's power again, she also didn't want to harm the hundred of students at
the school in the distance.

"Don't worry about what could happen" the professor instructed, "Just focus on the fire, not
how you came to posses it, but how you can wield it now"

Brooklyn looked doubtful at the three X-men, but when Storm gave her a reassuring smile,
Brook decided to just go to hell with it and slowly took off her jacket. The air was still winter
cold, but the bite of December would soon be gone as soon as she took off her bracelets.

Because she wasn't be able to bring GIL in her Stark watch, where she had connected the
opening and closing commands of the bracelets, Brooklyn had to resort to let another of
Xavier's staff, a red head named Jean Grey, remove them for the teen with her 'telekinetic
abilities'.

Almost as soon as the bracelets came off and Brooklyn saw them levitate away from her,
Brooklyn felt her body begin to warm up without the presence of the constant cold flowing
into her body.

Then she panicked, wondering if the warmth would continue to flow and flow until she was
in flames again. She tied to control her emotions like the professor had said, thinking of being
in control...but she felt her body warming up too quickly....

She vaguely heard someone saying her name, but by then, she felt the fire expand out of her
arms. Brooklyn refused to open her eyes to behold the horrific sight, she refused to
acknowledge it as she tried to focus as she would in learning a new subject or a new move
during training.

Brooklyn had always been a fast learner....she just had to master this...

"Brooklyn" the professor said in her head somehow, "You need to calm down"

The Stark opened her eyes then, watching as fire materialized around her body like a tornado,
as it expanded high and wide to the point that she couldn't see the people that had once been
around her.
The heat of the flames, the brightness of them...it reminded Brook of nothing but destruction
that only seemed to fuel the fire like a greedy beast feeding on her astonishment.

Brook collapsed on her knees, yelling at her body to stop, feeling something hit the fire
tornado over and over, but bounding off like a ball against a wall. She realized it must be
Bobby's ice, and it was doing nothing to help.

The panic set in again, realizing the professor truly had been way over his head to have her
summon the fire so soon.

No matter how much she screamed, the fire continued to grow, wisps of flames dancing like
wild ribbons above her head, the fire expanding until its color began to change to a darker
tone. Brook couldn't see the forest or the sky now, she couldn't see anything but the fire.

She heard the rumbling of thunder, felt a few drops of water that were not tears...but
summoned rain by Storm.

Still, it did nothing.

The fire continued to grow far out other will, burning the barely visible grass around her, and
the image of little critters and forest animals burning to death only made Brook panic all the
more, enough so that the fire hovering over her limbs began to flare like a wicked melody,
never burning her skin, just as if it were screaming along with her.

Brooklyn's vision turned blurry then and she felt flames hovering by her eyes like a mask of
fire.

The tornado of fire around her picked up then, swirling so fast it created a current of wind
that moved her hair every which way, muffled her screams, and made the space seem smaller.

One second Brooklyn was screaming off the top of her lungs, the next, it was like her mind
shut off with the professor's voice in her head with a soothing reassurance that all was well.

She must've been knocked out, because when Brooklyn came to, she was laying on the burnt
field, no flames on sight, and vibranium bracelets back on her wrists.

The professor and his teachers were looking down at her, concern written all over their faces,
but they weren't the only ones staring. Back at the school, Brooklyn could see students
crowding around the open windows, looking down at the field as the rain fell around her.

She couldn't hear them, but she saw them talking amongst one another, pointing at the large
radius of the area Brook had burnt.

The Stark stared at it in horror, then at her unmarred hands.

She stayed there on the floor, even as everyone was ushered back to their lessons and the
teachers all surrounded Brooklyn, offering to let her rest or go to classes with the other
students so she could relax.
But Brook did not want to be around mutants, she didn't want to rest after she'd almost killed
everyone either. She refused to go back inside, letting the rain cool her body until Storm
made it stop.

Even when other teachers came outside, Brooklyn refused to say a thing, all she could see
was the ash bleakness of the once beautiful winter forest, full of life and gentle color. All she
could think about was what Ivan would've done with this fire, what he would've made her
burn to ashes...perhaps it would've burned him along with it too.

She felt numb with fear, refusing to move until her head stopped spinning and she regained
the feeling of her limbs.

Brooklyn knew that with flames so out of control, all she had worked to achieve, becoming
the heiress to Stark Industries, an Avenger...it was all for nothing. This ability was only for
the evil, for a danger to the world, not a savior.

With this, the future she'd tried to build was useless. She'd have to spend her days inside a
frozen cell, never seeing her family and friends again, that was the fact.

As if reading her mind, the professor wheeled his chair forward, offering the oddest thing
Brooklyn could've expected...a chocolate bar.

"We all start out with difficulties, Miss Stark, "he explained, "You are discouraged because
you are seeing us at our best after much training while you are barely beginning. You'll get
the hang of your power, there is no need to feel remorseful, not when I brought you here
expecting something like this"

Brooklyn took the chocolate bar, voice hoarse as she looked up at him and asked, "Then if
you expected this would happen, why do it? Why risk getting hurt?"

Xavier smiled, "None of us were in any danger, not when Jean could've moved us back with a
mere thought, and I could quell your mind in seconds. You put no one at risk, but I wanted to
see how you would handle it, just how far into your fears you'd give into"

A test.

"Not a test" the professor corrected, "It was a way to help you stop being afraid of your
power"

Brooklyn laugend bitterly, siting crosslegged before all the adults as she spat, "Well, it did the
exact opposite"

The professor motioned to the chocolate bar, and only after she'd taken a reluctant bite did he
clarify kindly, "No, because now you know that no matter how out of control it goes, you can
be stopped"

Brook paused mid chew, realizing what the man said was true.

It was possible to stop her, to quell the flames by knocking her out, and with people like the
professor around...it was as easy as half a thought. But it wasn't a guarantee.
After she got her breathing back in control, a short teacher named Katherine Pryde, or Kitty
as she preferred to be called, guided Brook back inside, offering to let her eat in her room if
she didn't want to be around others for the moment.

The Stark gladly took that option, eating her meal of hot soup, bread, and greens in silence.
She kept the lights off, not wanting to see a ray of brightness for a while after the blinding
splendor of her fire.

Brook had always hated the darkest he cold, and the loneliness...great.

She heard students out in the hall, saw their shadow pass under the door as they went back to
their rooms with excited tales of the day, some even revolving around the mass fire they
witnessed.

Instead of dealing with gossip, Brooklyn skipped dinner (eating Steve's cookies instead) and
went to her adjoining bathroom, took a long cold bath, and when she changed into her pjs and
moved to the large bed almost numbly again....she couldn't help but sigh defeatedly as she
stared up at the ceiling.

It was when Brook reached for the nightstand, for the walkie-talkie that had become as much
of her nightly routine like brushing her teeth or combing her hair...that she realized it was not
there, because she wasn't home thanks to the stupid curse in her veins.

Damian's voice wouldn't lure her to sleep tonight, and somehow, that seemed like the worst
cruelty of today by far.

The next day, it continued to be so when the Professor mad her go out into the field once
more, lose control again, get knocked out, eating another sweet. He'd let her eat breakfast in
her room, then took her back out to do the same again since she refused to go to classes.

So she burnt the already dead land and yet another outfit of hers was filled with irreparable
holes, she failed to reign in the fire, screamed off the top of her lungs while it happened. Then
the red headed teacher Jean Gray knocked Brook out with her powers, Kitty offering Brook a
Snickers bar to revive herself with.

Brooklyn ate lunch in her room, alone and in the dark, missing her friends and family,
dreading the knocking at the door that would send her back out on that field.

It eventually came when a handsome man named Scott Summers, another teacher (one who
wore shades in and outdoors despite the weather) ushered her back down to rinse and repeat
what had occurred this morning and during the afternoon.

At this rate, she'd be out of wearable clothes since she'd brought so little...

Nothing changed, no matter how hard Brooklyn tried to feel nothing and detach herself from
the fire and her feelings.

She ignored everyone's attempts to get Brook to eat dinner with everyone, she just went back
up to her antique room, mourned her lack of progress, her lack of friends, and reached for
that walkie-talkie absentmindedly again.

Funny. It had been a long time since Brooklyn went to sleep dreading the morning. That had
ended since she found her family, but the heavy feeling of discontent was back, as were the
nightmares of Ivan.

No one heard her scream, and if they did, her neighbors didn't bother checking if she'd died
or not.

Still she went to sleep, clutching her golden necklace and cursing her past, already hating the
idea of tomorrow.
 An Anchor

Brooklyn POV-

The next morning was the start of an already bleak Sunday in her eyes, and the passing of the
days without any progress was starting to get at Brooklyn.

She woke up with a sigh of desperation, almost choosing to remain in bed and just call it
quits from the begging. Still, she showered, fished out an outfit that wasn't ruined, and went
about her shortened morning routine until a knock came at her door.

This time, it wasn't the professor, Kitty, or Mr. Summers here to escort her, but a little boy
Brooklyn didn't recognize.

He was dressed in a heavy blue jacket, with two books in hand that looked to be for casual
reading. The sight almost reminded Brooklyn of MJ, made her miss all her friends and family
all the more.

"Hi!" he peeped shyly, "I'm Frank, the professor asked me to take you to the garden today"

Frank? As in Frank Richards? Son of Reed?

Brooklyn smiled at the 'familiar' face, even if the two had never been acquainted.

"I would hardly call it a garden anymore", Brooklyn mused while she grabbed a set of extra
clothes for when she inevitably burned through the ones she wore, "I burnt most of it"

Frank did not seem concerned of her fire, perhaps fearful of interacting with Brooklyn, but he
seemed like a shy kid to begin with.

"If it makes you feel any better, students have done worst to it. Rumor has it that Mr.
Summers, our geometry/leadership and tactics teacher, cut down every tree with his laser
vision when he first came here. And my friend Denis produced so much electricity that he cut
down the power in all the city for three days" Frank said, stuttering as he spoke.

He guided Brooklyn in silence back to where she dreaded to go, but he'd occasionally point
out the uses of classrooms or teachers he favored (which was all of them).

Despite being ashy kid, he seemed to have quite a few friends, everyone knew him by name
though.

When they made it to the dreaded outdoors, Brooklyn almost didn't want to let him go, he
was such a sweet kid, and even though he was a mutant, she found he was nice company.

Still, Frank had classes to get to, and the professor was already waiting in the middle of the
scotched field, ready to see Brooklyn fail once again.

Great.
After bidding farewell to the kid, Brooklyn walked up, only to find there was a new man with
the professor today.

He looked angry, too strong for his own good. A threat in Brooklyn's mind.

"This is Logan, he's a history teacher and an old friend" the professor said, wheeling his chair
closer to Brooklyn. The teen was already looking to Jean with dread, waiting for the woman
to take off the bracelets, only to see the Stark wasn't the only one with her gaze there.

Logan was looking at Jean too, with that look Jon gave Yelena, and the one Harry had when
the school served chicken nuggets at lunch.

Now, Brook was no gossip, she hadn't interacted with many people to know much anyways,
but she knew for a fact Jean and Scott Summers had some sort of relationship, and now she
casually found out there was more to the story, possibly involving this so called Logan.

It appeared even mutants had trouble with emotions, a small comfort, even if such realization.
made Brook worry she was turning into Tanya.

Turning back to the professor, Brooklyn asked exhaustedly, "So what candy will you hand
over today after my failure? Or did your old friend bring something for me?"

Logan frowned at Brook, but the intensity of that glare was so weak compared to Damian's
that the teen merely smirked at the man. What a loser.

"First of all, I'm 183 years old, that doesn't make me an 'old friend'. Secondly, I'm far to old to
deal with this kind of sass, I'm going back inside rather than sty here watch a spoiled girl
burn everything like a child throwing a tantrum" Logan declared, earning not-so-surprised
gasps from Bobby and Kitty. Jean, Scott, and the professor just looked at the man with
disappointed glares.

First of all, she wasn't throwing a tantrum! She was cursed!

Also, Brooklyn was certain that if that guy was as old as he claimed, then he was probably
friends with Grandpa Steve. Fortunately, he looked to be nothing but bitter man with a high
opinion of himself, meaning no one would mind if she beat his ass, right?

Days of failures and isolation were really getting to Brooklyn, so she walked over to the
teacher and said, "Listen here Logan, I'm not throwing a tantrum, but if it looks so easy to
you, take the power yourself and see if you don't burn anything?"

To Brook's surprise, despite warnings of his peers, metal came out from between Logan's
knuckles like large blades.

It was both gross and surprising.

Brooklyn was more than ready to get into a fight no matter what his mutation was, it would
surely be more successful than burning a forest all day.

Unfortunately for her, the professor was a pacifist.

"Logan, stand down. I didn't ask you here to bicker. I thought you might be the perfect person
to help Brooklyn manage her emotions since you were once in a similar position" Xavier said
calmly, earning a raised brow from the biker-looking mutant.

"Why would I be able to help this spoiled Stark?" Logan replied, but his glare never left the
teen.

Oh, finally! Someone knew who she was!

Brook felt her brow twitch, her hands warm even with the vibranium still on.

The only think keeping the teen from taking her chances and burning this guy, was the fact
that she'd taken an oath not to kill. She and Damian had left that life behind, and thought he
likely wouldn't blame her for it...for some reason, just thinking of her animal-loving and
grumpy artist best friend made the annoyance vanish.

The professor was now between them, and it was with a bit of sadness that he said, "I think
you can help because she's like you Logan. Miss Stark was experimented on as a child"

The teacher's metal claws retracted slowly, his gaze still on her own as he asked, "You were?"

Well, that was still something she was working out herself...a nightmare she had not yet
processed.

"Yeah, a space object gave me the ability to create infernos. If I hadn't fought aliens with my
own hands, it would sound crazier than it is, but yes, I was experimented on by a Russian
assassin. You?"

The man chuckled at last, a dry laugh as he pulled out a cigar.

" A colonel with a strong hatred for mutants"

So they were both messed up...great.

Turned out that the professor's plan to have Logan help was not the best. Though Logan was
much less hostile than before, he suggested Brooklyn try and control her anger against things
that could trigger it, learn how to push back the flames before they even came on.

At first, he wanted the professor to trigger painful memories in Brooklyn's head, but both the
teen and the professor had refused. So instead, once Logan heard Brook was training to be an
Avenger, he suggested that he and the other X-men attack her.

That would apparently leave her no choice not only to control the curse, but to keep her
emotions of anger in check.

Of course that hadn't worked.

Even as flying objects were thrown Brook's way by Jean, red lasers shot out of Scott's eyes,
Logan's claws trying to piece her skin, Bobby's ice attempting to restrain her, and with Kitty
annoying the teen by phasing through her....the Stark NEVER resorted to the magic, she
fought with nothing but her hand to hand combat skills.

She was able to bring down Bobby and Scott, and with a lucky hit, Kitty.

The professor had stopped the fight then, because he noticed that unlike most people,
Brooklyn did not resort to anger when fighting. All she focused on was moves and
countermoves. If anything, she was more at peace fighting, which wasn't really an answer
considering the teen couldn't exactly go around fighting the world to calm down.

It wasn't until Jean removed the bracelets, that Brook noticed their absence, when the fire
began to burn again against her will, strong as before and unable to be stopped until Brooklyn
was knocked out.

Brook had been too tired afterwards to complain when Jean and Kitty brought her over to the
main hall to eat something.

At least the Stark was able to ignore the hundred or so students by sitting at a lonely table,
already dreading when the professor would come to fetch her again...which he did.

*****

Before the bracelets came of this time, the professor stopped Jean. At first, Brook thought the
old man had FINALLY given up, only for him to wheel himself over to her with a kind smile
on his face.

The others hung back as the Professor guided Brook to a nearby fountain as large as a pool,
one Brooklyn hadn't burned yet by the looks of it.

The professor stared down at the peaceful ambiance around them, urging Brooklyn to sit as
they beheld the frozen liquid together.

"I've come to realize what's holding you back" he said casually, "There is too much pain in
your past, that it makes you afraid. There is too much hesitation in your future because of it.
Fear is the enemy of control, Miss Stark. Right now, you are not controlling it, but letting it
control you"

Brooklyn sighed, frowning up at the gray clouds above as she mumbled, "I'm trying to
control it, I'm trying not to feel anything!"

The bald man chuckled. smiling at the birds that came to pick at the frozen water.

"This has never been about not feeling anything, Brooklyn. Feeling makes us human, and
without that, we are bound for a dark path. What I think you need is an anchor, something
that keeps you calm...that can bring you back from the panic"

An anchor?

"Something that keeps me calm? Like my family?" she replied, and once the professor
nodded, saying they should give it a try, they went back to the burnt field.
Brooklyn tried to do as she was told, thinking only of her family and nothing else.

She saw dad working at the lab to blasting rock classics, mom coming back from the
company with a warm smile in all her finery, and Harley smiling in the hallways with his
friends.

She thought of the Avengers messing around during training, the fun breakfast banter, the
ease of family game nights.

But as soon as she felt those bracelets come off and her body beginning to warm, Brook
remembered what their faces had looked like when they went into the cell she'd woken up in.

She saw their fear.

What if she burned them? What if they left her for it?

Like that, whatever hope of control had been there was gone, and the flames came alive,
strong as always, fueled by her worry.

Once Brook was on the ground, a bar of Hershey's chocolate in hand and pure
disappointment in her veins, she noticed the professor did not look frustrated in the least, he
was still certain an anchor would be the answer even after the colossal fail.

As gently as he could, Xavier said, "Maybe you should try something else, something or
someone different that brings you peace, like a song or a friend"

Though the last thing Brooklyn wanted was to take off the vibranium bracelets, she still got
up and got ready for another round, ignoring Logan's victorious smirk at the teen's failure and
the marshmallows Bobby and Kitty had been apparently roasting with Brook's fire.

At least someone was having fun, Brooklyn thought bitterly.

This time, Brook summoned thoughts of music she could dance to all day int he mornings,
she thought of her favorite foods from Wanda and Grandpa Steve, even summoned the peace
and joy of Midtown that she was already starting to miss.

Still, the flames erupted and swirled around her like a tornado, and Brooklyn ended waking
up back up on the floor not long after.

This time, when she opened her eyes, not only was Jean handing down a piece of chocolate,
but Brooklyn realized the hundreds of students from the school were now watching in the
sidelines.

What were they thinking!? They could get burned!!?

"Don't mind them" Professor Xavier said, "Think of something else, something powerful.
Something that makes you really happy. Think of the happiest you've ever felt, the safest"

She tried that already!

Brooklyn had thought of her family, but they were too afraid of her, and the only person who
never showed an ounce of fear was...Damian.

It was Damian.

When the bracelets came off again, Brook did her best to ignore the curious students and the
teachers, focusing on her best friend, the person she missed talking to and could ways count
on no matter what.

Brook felt the bracelets levitate away, and when the warmth returned to her body, all she
could think about was the time Damian came to visit her in Wakanda, how he hadn't even
hesitated once to sit by her side of hold her hand.

It felt like hours passed, but it was likely just minutes of recalling every time her best friend
had been there, not just the good, but the bad times when they were still enemies, or when the
two had been separated by their friends of enemies....but untimely always found one another.

It was with a striking realization that the girl realized then...that the flames never came.

When Brook opened her eyes, the teachers were smiling, students cheering and that smirk on
Logan's face was finally gone, replaced with what could probably be considered a satisfied
frown.

All Brooklyn could focus on was the fact that Damian Wayne was her anchor.

She wasn't entirely sure what that meant exactly, but the memory of him had managed to help
the Stark keep her curse at bay, to do what was unthinkable since that day in Wakanda when
the flames appeared.

And...and despite the victory, she Brook was quick to realize that she missed him terribly...

The next few attempts before lunch showed similar progress. When she thought of Damian,
the flames would not explode into madness, in fact, when she focused on the particularly
happy memories the two had shared,...Brooklyn was able to hold a flame in her hand, letting
it flicker like a small bright star.

That did not mean Brooklyn tested her luck too long, nor did she let herself be bullied into
trying fancier things with said power. She could hold it back now...and it was enough.

She still had no idea why had Damian worked to soothe her, even when he wasn't here.
Maybe it was because he was the only person in the world that wasn't afraid, because he was
always there...and she valued him dearly for it.

Perhaps it was the euphoria of the success after days of hitting a wall, but after changing
clothes, she let Frank Richards guide her to the crowded eating hall for dinner. She stayed at
his table, where his two friends were already waiting with congratulations for the Stark.

They said everyone always had some sort of trouble at first when they came in, that no one at
school blamed Brook for the destruction or wanting to be alone.
Frank was the one who confessed that sometimes, some of the kids that came were not
exactly in the best place. Like Brooklyn, they were afraid of themselves.

Some were kicked out of their homes when their powers showed up, as was the case for
Frank's friend named Denis. The blonde boy with the sticking honey brown eyes had been
abandoned by his family when he was five after he blew the power in their home after an
argument.

It wasn't until Denis was found by Xavier on the streets that he found out he wasn't a witch
cursed by the devil as his parents had said, his mutation gave him he ability to get energy
from electricity and store it, the way a plant would with the sun.

He showed no signs of being upset over his abandonment now, instead, he happily explained
that though he could eat normal food, he often chose not to as was explained by his empty
plate. Instead, the peculiar boy with a mass of freckles across his nose and cheeks carried a
small lamp around and plugged it in nearby to 'power up' as he said.

Speaking to him, Brooklyn realized that even though the kid was young, he already had
bright aspirations to use his mutation to one day be able to use his stored energy to help out
cities affected by natural disasters.

The girl beside him, named Beth, had similar admirable hopes. Though she was loud and
wild, the blue haired girl seemed to fit right in with the shy Richards kid.

She proudly announced that she could talk to terrestrial animals, which made Brooklyn
realize she'd seen the girl that first day here.

Right now at the table, the girl was surrounded by no less than three squirrels, who were
apparently also very proud of Brook for her progress today.

According to Beth, they'd been spying on the Stark's progress from one of the roofs of this
building. It was odd being spied on by mere squirrels when Brooklyn was supposed to be the
spy...but she supposed there were weird things out there.

Beth's blue eyes shone brightly as she spoke of the day three wild bears saved her two year
old self from drowning in the pool of her back yard. Her parents had been terrified of the
creatures, and when her father tried to kill them, especially when Beth begged against it
saying she could understand their kind words...she ran away with them.

Xavier and Storm found her a few days later, let the young girl bring as many forest friends
as she wanted to the school.

Brook was astonished the young girl already had hopes of using her abilities to rescue
animals who were hunted or hated, using her mutation to save their lives and offer the lonely
a friend they could count on.

As for Frank, he was a little more shy about speaking of himself.

Brooklyn patiently waited till he was ready as she ate her food. Eventually, he confessed to
having telekinetic powers, very powerful ones, which is why he was often training with
Xavier and Jean.

Unlike his two friends, his family was very supportive of Frank's mutation, possibly because
they were famous for having powers of their own.

Despite the happy tale, Brooklyn couldn't help but realize there were likely more people here
with unsupportive families, which is why this place was a boarding school.

Beth confirmed Brook's suspicions when a new kid was brought in by a man covered in blue
fur, another teacher. The young kid clinging to his sleeve was scared, bruised...and no one
was surprised by the sight.

No one.

A young student with long almost translucent hair stepped forward then, she talked to the
little boy as if she'd known him all her life, and when she touched her hair to the injuries, the
bruises disappeared.

Though Frank was seated with Brook at the other side of the dining hall, he still used his
powers to levitate a plate of for over to the kid, who was now smiling at the realization that
there were... that there were others like him.

Some older kids around Brook's age invited the kid to sit with them, and everyone greeted
him warmly as they passed.

It was then that Brooklyn realized how wrong she'd been to judge these kids, and she felt
awful for thinking of them as only threats when they were just kids like any other child of the
world. These were good people who bad things had happened to, and they didn't deserve to
be hated for it.

Brook also realized she'd been doing to them the one thing the Stark did not want her family
and friends to do to her. All this times she showed she was weary and afraid of mutants, well
now she knew how awful that felt, yet she had done it...

So Brooklyn had swallowed her pride then, clutched her Stark Industries sweater tight as she
apologized to the table for her aloofness, even when she'd never targeted them with hate
personally.

The three young kids had smiled, and when they invited her to a bonfire to celebrate
someone's birthday tonight...Brooklyn had not hesitated to agree to go.

******

When she sat down on a log next to Frank, the two teens looked out to where the teachers
were lighting bonfires and bring out food and snacks to celebrate the birthday of the teenager
who could summon bubbles at will.
The Stark and Frank sat further back than most so that the sky kid would be comfortable.
Brook didn't mind one bit, in fact, it was nice to be amongst the trees, a small fire before the
group, watching as the celebrations took place on full blast, especially when the teachers left
to let the kids be.

No one was rude to Brook. In fact, they gave at her from a far, some even offering their own
congratulations for her display of control at the field. Still getting used to praise, Brooklyn
was only able to smile and nod in thanks.

It was then, once Beth and Denis left for a dance with some nearby deer, that Frank
remembered something, and handed over a letter discretely.

Unsure why, Brooklyn opened it, let the nearby fire light the words of familiar scripture.

It was a letter from Jon...

When Brooklyn turned to Frank with a raised brow, the shy kid mentioned her friends HAD
found him and mentioned they wanted to make sure Brook was safe, so before everyone left
Wakanda, Jon had given Frank the letter for Brook.

"Jon is very nice" Frank said softly, "Your other two friends are a little scary, but I could tell
they care about you...well, at the time I had no idea it was you they were talking about until
you showed up. Jon said I would know who you were when I saw you...I guess he was right"

Brooklyn couldn't help but smile, both at the fact that her friends worried for her, and that
Frank had given her this little piece of home she'd been missing.

Slowly, Brooklyn opened the letter, smiling when she noticed Yelena and Damian had clearly
fought to write their own words in the paper as well.

First was Jon's part, with barely readable penmanship;

Hey Brook! The rest of our trip to Wakanda was bleak without you. We are so worried about
you and hope that the school's been treating you well.

Though we've never discussed the concept of having a leader in our little team, it seems like
you and Damian have always been that for the rest of us, and it feels odd having one of you
two away. Still, we promise to keep Queens safe until you come back!

Ned and Peter say hi and they miss you too! We all promised to go out and have a blast once
you return, it will be your pick of an activity! I miss you so much, and I hope you don't let the
fire make you nervous. If it makes you feel better, I can shoot ice from my mouth, so you
aren't the only one in the group who has special skills. You never will be.

The next part was clearly from Yelena, in elegant cursive, with exaggeratedly flourished
strokes at the end of each sentence, just like all Red Room girls were taught to write.

Brooklyn. I understand there are likely many things in your mind right now. You are probably
weary in that mutant place, but I can unsure you that Frank kid is a decent mutant. Perhaps
Ivan was wrong about all enhanced humans being dangerous, he was wrong about Jon, right?
I certainly think that despite your situation, the goodness at your core has not changed.

Learn from the mutants, use them to control this skill until we can find a better solution to
hinder Ivan better. If something goes wrong, tell Frank, and the team will go rescue you as
fast as we can. Stay strong sestra.

The last part was clearly Damian, Brook knew his handwriting like her own after so many
letters exchanged at school, all of which she kept in a drawer...and somehow, though his
words were few, they were exactly what she needed..likely fewer and more formal because
Yelena and Jon had been around him while he wrote this..

Brooklyn.

I know you are afraid, and despite the discouragement of such emotion since we were kids, I
think you are entitled to feel whatever you need.

That does not mean you should fear yourself, because you are still the same you we all know.

Jon and Peter may be the team's enhanced eyes, Ned our brain, Yelena and I the strong
structure of bones...but you are the heart that holds us together and makes us better.
Remember that as you go through this trial, and don't hesitate to call upon us if need be.

It may be difficult, but we'll be there by your side, whatever it takes.

Brook smiled, clutching the letter close after thanking Frank. With just as single letter, the
Stark somehow felt less alone at the moment...or perhaps it was because she was no longer
alone.

That wasn't in a poetic sense, when Danny and Beth came back, Brook heard movement
behind them, the crunching of leaves...something was approaching them in the darkness of
the forest behind them.

Brooklyn did not hesitate to get the kids to stand, waging how long it would take for them to
get back to where everyone else was, which was too long. Instead, as the noises grew
stronger, Brook pushed the nervous teens behind her, stretching out her arms for them to hide
behind her body as the crunching reached the edge of the forest.

What emerged from within was not Ivan or an assassin, not the Joker or a stray mutant.

It wasn't a danger at all.

"Damian?" Brook asked incredulously, watching as the Wayne emerged from he shadows,
panting and frantic until he noticed the campfires, the kids and teens dancing in the distance.

The two stared at one another, and even though he was in his casual clothes, the sight of him
was still magnificent to her. Brook did not care that there were three young teens still
confused behind her... she did not hesitate to run over and crash her body into his own in an
embrace.
When Damian's arms went around her and she could finally smell the peppermint and musky
cologne, Brook couldn't help but let out a relived chuckle.

"What are you doing here?! How did you find me?" she asked frantically.

Damian did not let go of their fierce embrace as he whispered into her hair, "I got the
coordinates today. I saw the fires, the people gathered outdoors...I thought it was an attack"

Oh...he'd mistaken the bonfires and the gathering as a whole as a danger...and had clearly
rushed over as quickly as he could to do something about it?

Brooklyn smiled at the realization, brought him closer with her arms gently around his neck.

One look behind her and Brook realized that no one else was here, that he'd likely dropped
everything to be here.

"How did you get past all the security?" Brook asked with amusement, to which Damian
chuckled.

"Please beloved, as if any of that could keep me away"

He was impossible...

It was only when she heard a loud awing sound from Beth that Brooklyn backed away from
Damian, keeping close to him as he was quick to inspect the three teens with scrutiny.

"Brooklyn! You never mentioned having a boyfriend! Awww, I can't believe he snuck in here
just visit you!" Beth said, hands clutched together by her chest, looking like she was about to
swoon.

Brook felt her cheeks come aflame (with no actual fire, thank goodness) at the mention of
Damian as her...as her boyfriend.

Even Damian had gone still at the words.

The Stark knew now that no kid in here cared very much about gossip, most fo them did not
care she was a Stark to begin with. It would make sense that none of them knew about the
family feud..all except Frank, who actually looked quite unbothered and unfazed by the two
older teens hugging earlier.

In fact, Frank just looked relieved they hadn't been killed by a monster, or at least whispered
as much.

Still, just to be safe, Brooklyn introduced Damian not as her best friend, but as an
acquaintance.

The young teens looked slightly intimidated by Damian's frown, his dark clothes, but...they
still promised to keep his arrival a secret.
"The professor and Jean don't read minds unless they have to" Denis said with a shrug, "So
your friend's arrival has likely not been noticed yet. You should be safe for a few minutes
until they come out for cake"

Beth had nodded at that rather enthusiastically, took hold of Denis and Frank and left to give
the two older teens 'a moment'.

Weird.

Just to be safe, Brooklyn silently guided Damian further int the thick forest behind them,
unable to stop smiling the realization that he was here tonight.

Even when they had only been apart for a few days....she'd noticed his absence from her life.

Knowing their time was limited before they both got in trouble, Brooklyn wasted no time
bringing him into another hug once she felt they were deep enough into the woods.

When Damian returned the embrace, tightly winding his hands around her back, Brooklyn
was barely able to hear a content sigh leave his lips.

"Are you alright, beloved?" he asked softly.

Brook smiled against his chest, "Yeah. I think I got my fire under some semblance of control,
I should be back to school tomorrow once I talk to the professor"

Damian hummed, "I knew you'd figure it out"

For the first time in days, Brooklyn felt completely at ease in that dark forest, content to let
Damian caress her hair in silence as they two just relished at being back together at last. It
made Brook...happy....that Damian had clearly missed her as well, even when he did not
voice it.

Neither of them wanted to risk getting caught, but they didn't want to say goodbye either.

It had actually been quite difficult when Damian mentioned he should get back to the car
before Jon decided to test his luck a driving it. Brook had laughed at that, asking Damian to
thank their friend for rushing all the way over for her.

It was even more difficult watching Damian disappear into the shadows shortly after, even
when they both promised to see one another soon. He'd even made her laugh when he said
he'd come get her himself if she was not back soon, promising to bail her out.

It was hard to ignore the fact that Brook had a feeling he would...

What was harder turned out to be ignoring Beth's taunts at dinner, as she gushed about
Brooklyn's 'gorgeous boyfriend' throughout the meal, and during breakfast the next morning.

That night, she'd slept peacefully, had worked up the courage to speak to the professor
because of it. She hadn't even frowned when she rose from bed.
Brooklyn was confident in her control now that she had an anchor, now that she knew for
sure that Damian was still not afraid of her.

That anchor was strong, and the happy feeling that came with being the Wayne's best friend
was suddenly Brooklyn's only hope of remaining in control.

But it was enough.

They were enough.

 Texts and Talks

Brooklyn POV-

Though she'd grown not to despise her stay at Xavier's, the professor and his staff had
achieved Brooklyn's goal. The Tesseract's power was still roaming through her veins, but
thanks to the vibranium and her new anchor, Brooklyn felt confident enough to brave the
world beyond this hidden school.

Part of it was not just het achievement, Brook was supposed to only stay here till Monday,
but it was now Tuesday, and she had a very important company event to get ready for on
Thursday. If Brooklyn failed to show up, it would start raising suspicions that something was
amiss.

Normally absence from school could be excused with any small lie, but Brooklyn was no
ordinary teen, she was a public eye figure who attracted paparazzi like moths to a
flame...actually, maybe another analogy would be best... like dogs to a bone.

The media usually gave her room to breathe and live because of who her father was and
likely the pity they felt for the 'wishes of her dead mother', but public events were always the
compromise. If Brook missed one of those, it might start a security breach she was not ready
for.

At least now she was a little more prepared for the gala with her curs-...power kept at bay, as
long as Brook kept her anchor in mind...an anchor she totally did not have feelings for as
some would assume.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Xavier asked as they both stood before the school,
waiting patently for a car to arrive, "You can master you power here, learn to use it properly
instead of hiding it"

"I don't want to master it" Brooklyn replied as gently as she could, "I just want to keep it
inside so that it's not a danger to anyone until it can be removed"

The professor tapped the arm of his wheelchair, not in anger or frustration, just something
Brooklyn noticed he did quite often when he was thinking.

As always, a wise bit of advice left the bald man's lips short after, "Concealment is never
healthy, Miss Stark, take if from someone who has not only seen what that can do to a
student, but has experienced it himself. Should you ever change your mind, you're aways
welcome here"

Brooklyn had no idea even the great and wise Professor Xavier had once wanted to conceal
his abilities. Many people often spoke praises of how powerful his power was and how useful
it was to recruit students, quite possibly saving their lives.

Still, Brook knew what she wanted and needed, and the flames were not part of that.
"Thank you professor"

That's when a familiar car pulled up before them, and when Happy got out the car, he did not
seem annoyed for once. There was worry in his eyes as Happy ran over to her.

"Are you alright, kid? Everything good?" Happy asked, eyes moving to her hands, one of
which was holding her small duffle bag of burnt clothes and necessities, both her wrists
adorned with silver bracelets.

"Yeah, I'm ok" she replied as Happy ruffled her hair annoyingly.

"Then let's take you home" he said, turning to the professor to thank him for the help. Turned
out, Happy was the one who used to take Wanda to Xavier's and was well acquainted but also
trusted to keep the location a secret.

Having said her goodbyes at breakfast that morning, Brooklyn merely thanked the professor
again, stepping out into the snow and getting in the car while Happy put her bag in the trunk.

Maybe Brooklyn was still not exactly pleased with the fire she had, but the more important
thing she'd learned was that perhaps not all mutants were bad after all. She'd guard their
secret always, and should Brook ever stumble upon a mutant in need of help...perhaps now
she would not hesitate to point them Xavier's way, here they would be in good hands.

The drive back went by slower because of the snow, but the fifty minutes went by in a flash.

Happy had not exactly admitted to missing Brook or worrying about her, but he did scold her
for risking her life for a princess...though that particular lecture felt more like praise by the
end of it.

When Happy had finally dropped her off at home, he'd offered his help to carry the small
duffle bag, but Brooklyn had to assure him a few times that she was more than capable of
carrying a bag upstairs.

He'd left with the promise of seeing her on Thursday for the gala event which Brook was
already dreading for sure...but once she made it back upstairs to the peace of her apartment, it
felt like she could finally breathe safely again.

Unpacking had been quick, and GIL had made sure to welcome her back enthusiastically
with that Russian accent of hers. GIL had also made sure to order the eight fire extinguishers
Brooklyn had requested to spread around her home...just to be safe.

Brook had debated just taking a very long nap for the rest of the day since everyone was
likely busy with patrols or homework, but that plan had gone out the window when Aunt
May texted Brooklyn that some of the neighbors mentioned seeing her around.

So, the Stark went over to the Parker residence to spend Aunt May's lunch break with her, as
well as to return some left-over dishes Brook had ever found the time to give back.

Aunt May was just as Brooklyn remembered, warm, kind, respecting Brooklyn's privacy
enough to not mention anything about Wakanda or the fire despite the fact that Peter must've
said something about it.

The two had a quick lunch, spaghetti with meatballs and enough sauce that Brooklyn and
May looked like they'd forgotten their manners as it dripped on their fingers and chins.

They talked about all sorts of things, like May's job as an emergency room nurse, which
despite the long hours, the woman loved very much. Brooklyn could see where Peter got his
morals and kindness from, why the two of them were so determined to save lives.

Around the time May had to leave back for work, she told Brooklyn to go into Peter's room
to get some school notes he'd collected for her. Though they were in no rush, Brook still
sprinted down the hall, paying little notice to anything as she burst open Peter's door....only to
see him already inside, his suit falling to the floor leaving him only in a pair of boxers.

Both teens froze, but where Brooklyn felt awful for breaching his privacy, Peter did not seem
to care one bit as he rushed over and pulled the Stark into a tight embrace.

He'd clearly forgotten he was only in a pair of boxers, so Brooklyn respected his privacy by
hot hugging his back. Some part of her was surprised at how fit he was, which was obvious
considered how much he trained and his super strength, but she also knew the Peter that
could eat five pizza boxes in one sitting so...

"I missed you so much! I was so worried too, couldn't stop thinking about you!" Peter
murmured into her hair, embracing Brooklyn tighter until one of his hands touched her back,
and despite the thick layer of her pearl-colored sweater, he still immediately retreated it to
move to her head.

It took a while for Brooklyn to realize Peter was crying, she could feel his tears falling on her
collar bone, and even though she was calm yet stiff as a rock, if felt odd to have him be more
friendly than usual.

"I missed you too, Pete" Brooklyn replied against his chest.

Peter pulled back then, keeping her at arms length as he examined her face, then her hands,
and lastly the functionality of her once injured arm. He was panting, freaking out, unable to
keep his gaze in one place until he met her eyes.

His were full of tears.

"I really did miss you. I couldn't stop thinking about everything we've been through together
and how important you are to me. We couldn't even contact you so I wasn't sure if you were
doing ok at the mutant school and then you didn't return on Monday and school felt really
lonely-"

Brooklyn cut off his usual ramblings with a smile, one that somehow managed to get him to
shut up at last.

"I'm glad to see I was missed, I was starting to think you guys might forget me" she joked.
Peter's eyes went wide as he brought her in for another hug, this one softer than the first.
Then, in a move that shocked Brooklyn above all else, he leaned in quickly and placed a soft
kiss on her cheek.

He pulled away at arms length quickly after, face, neck, and ears redder than Brooklyn had
ever seen...but she was more shocked by the fact that his cheek kiss had felt so much
different that the times when Damian...

Oh gods.

Peter's kiss, which should've brought her over the moon considering she might have feelings
for him...well, it didn't do anything. Last time Brook had felt a kiss on her cheek it had been
from her best friend, and her skin had warmed, tingled even.

That kiss had felt like a something completely right.

Peter's had been very thoughtful, but it felt like lips against the flesh of her cheek and nothing
more.

The thought of such a discovery was not at all helping the growing suspicion that she might
have fEeLiNgS for Damian. That thought alone was enough for Brooklyn to go still just as
Peter was.

I just...it wasn't possible....

"Sorry" Peter whispered then, eyes wide as he pulled her close to another hug, "I just...I felt
like I had to do that"

Brooklyn had no clue what that meant or why Peter had missed her so much as to give her a
kiss on the cheek. Then again, Happy had been quite kind today too, maybe her long absence
had been more noticed than Brooklyn thought.

"It's ok..." Brooklyn whispered back, almost going into cardiac arrest when Peter's aunt came
into the room saying, "It's ok if you can't find them sweetheart, I can ask Peter to-"

Brooklyn quickly pushed away from Peter, which is when the teenage boy noticed his lack of
clothing with a startled yelp as he ran over to his bed for the messy blanket to drape over his
body like a cape.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, what are you doing?!" Aunt May said, eyes full of mischief as she
laughed at Peter's constant stumbling around the room, almost tripping more than once on his
suit, poorly placed books, and tools left laying around.

Brook just wanted to combust in shame once she realized what May was thinking they were
doing, but knowing she actually could come aflame if her emotions were too out of control,
the Stark focused moving away from Peter's stuttering and May's laughter to text Damian that
she was back home, keeping her anchor in mind.

"It's not what it looks like! I swear!" Peter yelled looking like he might pass out from
embarrassment.
Brooklyn felt the rising distress that May would think she was trying to do something
extremely irresponsible with Peter in her own home until May took of her glasses, wiping the
tears from them as she said with all honestly, "I know it wasn't anything like that. Obviously"

May turned to Brook after that and when Peter rushed inside his closet to change, May
whispered, "I know you only have eyes for one guy Brook, don't stress about
misunderstandings"

Eyes for who!? What was May insinuating!?

Before Brooklyn could further embarrass herself or let her mind run wild with other obscure
theories about emotions as such, she followed May out of the apartment and quickly went
back to her own after saying goodbye.

Brook immediately slid down her closed door, playing with the material of her black pants as
she tried to find a thread or something to pull while her mind went haywire.

How was May so sure Brooklyn wouldn't be making moves on Peter? She seemed so certain
about it....

More than that, Why did Brook not feel anything when she was around Peter? None of the
symptoms Tanya had once described were there...not the way they curiously were around
Damian.

But it simply could not be, maybe she was just really tired and needed a nap...

Right before Brooklyn settled inside the warm covers, her phone notification went off, and
GIL displayed a hologram of Damian's reply to her earlier message.

Glad to have you back, my beloved

Oh no...something was definitely going on...

********

Jon Kent POV-

Jon had just flown Damian back to his room at the Wayne manor when the two settled to start
on homework. Jon had debated that after a long day of patrols, maybe they could play a video
game or something of the sort, but Damian the responsible mini adult had vetoed the idea and
shoved Jon's Spanish notebook his way.

Though Damian had been quite tense since their return from Wakanda, it wasn't until today
that he seemed more relaxed, book throwing aside.

Such ease only increased when in the middle of doing engineering homework, Damian got a
text. Jon had to fly off his place at the bed to see it was a message from Brooklyn that she
was finally home.

That's when a smile came on Jon's face at the sight of his serious friend being so calm at last.
Jon had not forgotten what he'd witnessed that day of the yule ball, he and Yelena often spoke
of it trying to figure out what was going on with their two friends. Jon had a really good idea
of what might be happening, but Yelena had little to no experience identifying crushes and
such....something that made Jon quite sad sometimes.

He had decided to not bring up whatever this thing with Brooklyn was, if only so Damian
wouldn't push her away in fear. But lately, it just became even more painstakingly obvious
that Damian cared so much for the Stark.

When they were at school these past few days, Damian looked in the direction of Brook's
locker, as if expecting she'd be there. He refused to let Jon sit in Brooklyn's spot at lunch,
leaving an empty gap between the Wayne and Yelena where Jon could have been sitting to be
closer to the beautiful blonde.

Word had it that Damian had seemed less competitive in P.E. without his 'nemesis' there to
compete with.

Not only was it painful to watch, but it made Jon so incredibly happy to see his friend being
so affectionate to another human being, without even realizing it.

That was just it, Damian had no clue he'd been acting differently lately, which was an
amusement all on its own, but also an endearment Jon would've never imagined coming from
the teen who could send the boogie man running with a simple glare, and who's only
weakness in life was probably the risk of iron deficiency from being a vegetarian.

Well...only weakness until now.

Jon simply couldn't stop himself anymore from blurting, "You know, I'm glad you and
Brooklyn are getting along so well with the whole friends thing"

Damian moved the phone screen away from Jon's line of sight, shooting back a quick text
before placing the phone downwards on his desk and going back to his work.

Over his shoulder, Damian replied with all seriousness, "Of course. We are an efficient team"

So he was going to be difficult...

As Jon's friendly duty, it appeared that today would be the day he finally helped his friend
understand this mess of emotions before something unfortunate happened.

"Yeah, but....don't you feel something aside from undying friendship?" Jon pressed,
pretending to read off his blank notebook when Damian turned around with a glare.

"Like annoyance at your sudden interest in this topic? Then yes"

Patience, this topic paired with emotionally inexperienced Damian required so much
patience...

"No, I mean...look, we've been friends for years and I know you don't like talking about
personal things at all, even with me. So you don't have to say anything! I'll talk!" Jon said,
thinking of a new approach to this issue that might actually work.

Might.

"Talk? About what, new show? Your favorite popsicle flavor? What foolish topic do you
wish to discuss today? Enlighten me" Damian said, turning his chair to face the bed, a hand
already rubbing his temple.

Ok...could this plan result in death or possible injuries? Most certainly. But it would be worth
ever second if he managed to help out a friend in need.

Steeling his nerves, Jon pushed back the slight flush on his cheeks as he said, "Well, how
about the fact that I think I really like Yelena. Not the way I like Skittles or James Bond
movies, but really REALLY like her"

Damian's scrutinizing glare depended as he replied, "Then I'd say you are a fool"

"What?! Why?!" Jon said, sitting up on the bed, "You can't keep pretending to hate Yelena! I
know you think of her as part of the team, at least now! She and Brook are practically
sisters!"

Damian sighed, and after realizing there would be no way he could get back to work in the
peace he so favored, the Wayne moved to sit on the other end of the bed.

With the seriousness of a scolding parent, Damian clarified, "My opinion is not a reflection
on Yelena's character, but on the notion of emotions. I've done some research and crushes
normally last four months. You've barely known her for two, I suggest you wait to see if your
emotions are genuine or just hormones at work"

Jon was aghast.

"Now why would you look that up if you did not believe crushes were possible, huh? Is it
because you have an eye on a certain someone? A person you've known for almost...a little
over three months?"

Damian's body froze, which was probably the greatest victory in Jon's life.

They were finally getting somewhere!

"You are mistaken" Jon's friend said, shaking off whatever had made him stop on his tracks.

When Damian made to walk away, not back to his desk but out of the room altogether, Jon
realized he was sick and tired of Damian denying himself happiness, he was tired of seeing
his friend all alone, so stuck in his own mind to go out and look for that joy Jon knew he
deserved.

So he did what any reasonable kyrptonian would do at a moment like this, and froze the
edges of Damian's pants to the pole of the bed beside him.
Damian looked angry yes, but more than that, he seemed genuinely impressed that Jon would
make a move against him. In all honestly, Jon was a little shocked with himself as well.

"No, you're not walking away today or threatening me with your katanas or your dog! This is
serious business Damian, and some day you might just thank me for it, so sit down" Jon
ordered in the most confident tone of voice that his Pa always used during Justice League
meetings..but then he realized that was a little too harsh, so he added a soft and mousy,
"please"

Damian huffed annoyingly, frowning at the state of his pants.

Before he could get out a threat, Jon added, "Look, out of the two of us, I've actually dated a
few girls in the past, I know what I'm talking about, probably more so that whatever research
you managed to pull up out of some scientific paper. This thing with Yelena is different than
those times I've dated before, it doesn't feel like a way to spend walking hand in hand with
someone in the halls, this think with her now is...it feels like something more. I can talk to
her for hours, and she'll act like she's not listening, but she'll still give me advice, although
most of it is kinda violent"

"You are sharing these specifics of your little crush because...?" Damian mocked, breaking
small bits of the ice like a ticking clock.

Jon fought the urge to pull on his black hair at his friend's lack of understanding. He was sure
that if Damian wanted, he could give college level classes, but when it came to understand
emotions, he was a as clueless as a newborn....

"I'm sharing them because that is not a crush! The trust, the complete ease around her as if
she were my other half, it feels so much different that any other person I've liked before. Ma
used to tell me that when she met dad, she knew he would be special, not because he was
Superman, but because they shared something unique together... something strong"

Damian stopped his eye rolling then, asking in a calm and reprimanding tone "You claim to
love Yelena then? Is this you asking me for permission to date a team member then?"

Jon knew he was evading this, Damian might be oblivious when it came to emotions, but he
wasn't stupid!

"I'm telling you because I know you feel something for Brooklyn, something you are likely
trying to take away form yourself because you feel like you can't have it! Damian...I see the
way you two are around one another, the way you worry for her, that softness in your eyes for
Brook and only her. I know you like her, and you're probably trying to snuff those feelings
away before the fourth month ends so that you can prove something to yourself!" Jon said,
panting, eyes full of little tears as he added, "Don't you get it?! This isn't a bad thing, people
our age rarely find love so early, they rarely get to find someone who complements them
perfectly, especially in our line of work! I just...I don't want you to start pushing people away
again. I know liking a Stark is less than ideal, that you will think how illogical that would be
for you, but logic has nothing to do with this"
Damian was silent, for once tearing his glare away from Jon and moving it to the window
showing the falling snow outside instead of yelling back an argument to counter Jon's words.

Jon looked down at his lap, at the hand knitted sweater his Ma had made him. It had a little S
in my middle, the symbol of the house of El, Pa's side of the family.

Pa had once said that the S is the Kryptonian symbol for hope. Jon had told Yelena about it a
while back, had explained that hope was not a weakness like she thought, the way Damian
and Brooklyn likely thought as well.

Jon liked to think of hope being more of a wish, a goal to strive towards into a path of
happiness.

Though he hadn't told anyone but his grandma, Jon had the hope of Yelena being happy one
day, to see the darkness lingering in the back of her mind disappear so she could be the great
hero Jon knew she could become. He also hoped that....that maybe they could share that
vision together at some point.

But Jon had another wish, and it was to see his friend who'd been through so much, be the
happiest he could be, and Jon was glad to have witnessed it when Damian and Brooklyn were
together.

So Jon added softly, "I don't want you to end up alone like your father used to be. Even Bruce
found it in himself to adopt a family, to marry. Tim is probably eighty times smarter than we
are, and he's dating Steph! Dick has always done the right thing, and he got married,
choosing to love someone despite the hurdles and challenges. Love is not a weakness
Damian, and I can't watch you throw away something special, not when its clear as day that
you and Brooklyn are something truly beautiful"

Damian was silent for a few seconds, then huffed out angrily, "Get this ice off me"

Jon did no such thing.

Upon receiving the full blow of Damian's glare, he was really considering doing as the scary
Wayne asked, until he noticed his friend looked somewhat troubled.

The anger was there because...because Jon was spot on for once, and Damian was afraid of it.

"Jon, get this off..." Damian ordered, but Jon cut him off.

"Not until you talk to me honestly for once" he said, "Tell me what's in your heart, not your
mind"

Damian kicked away another bit of the ice angrily, but not enough to break out of the hold.

"My heart is full of vessels and blood!" he yelled, cursing in another language when Jon did
not move from his place leaning across from Damian.

"You know what I mean!" Jon yelled back, hating the fact that he was raising his voice, but
some part of him knew this had to happen.
Damian sighed, looking into Jon's blue eyes as he explained slowly, almost as if it pained him
to be honest, "Brooklyn and I are indeed an efficient team. We can work in tandem when it
comes to almost anything, but that does not change the fact that Parke....Peter, is the object of
Brooklyn's affections"

That was absolute...well, Jon wouldn't cuss, but that was so untrue!

Jon had seen Brooklyn's eyes when she beheld Damian during patrols, training, but more so
that day when they thought he was dead.

She looked so distraught, as if a piece of her had vanished.

But...this was great progress.

Though he hadn't exactly admitted it, it was clear Damian had his suspicions that there may
be more to him and Brooklyn than just friendship. That was already a huge leap from
anything Jon had ever achieved before!

"Damian, you and Brook are about as clueless with emotions as one can possibly get! I will
be forced to watch you two deny your feelings for years to come if one of you doesn't try to
make a leap of faith" Jon groaned back.

Damian's frown deepened, staring down at his ruined pressed black pants as he replied
matter-of-factly, "Faith is for those unsure of their skills, I have rarely resorted to it"

"Just....try and keep an open mind, ok? Maybe things will work out" Jon said, and only once
Damian nodded in understanding, did Jon take the ice off with a simple punch.

Of course, there was a price to pay for messing with Damian Wayne.

Jon spent the next half hour running away from Damian an Titus, ending up stuck atop a
chandelier as threats were shouted from down below.

He felt...relatively safe for now...that was until he got a panicked text, one which actually
made Jon's stomach sink and almost fall off the chandelier.

It was a text from Peter, frantic and in all caps in the private chat with Harry and Ned, the one
they normally used to discuss video games.

It almost made the sounds of barking and yelling vanish for a second...

I THINK SOMETHING JUST HAPPENED! I KNOW THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE AND

COMPLETELY INSANE, BUT I'M PRETTY SURE I HAVE A CRUSH ON BROOKLYN!

Jon had no clue what to reply, not as Harry sent a string of congratulations and Ned urged
Peter to calm down. The half-kryptonian was the only who knew about that yule dance
moment between Damian and Brook, the only one aware of the seemingly emotionless teen's
feelings.
Peter was Jon's friend, someone who was always there for him with smiles and
encouragement, yet Jon and Damian knew each other since they were children, and he valued
that friendship more than anything.

How could Jon beg for that text to not be true?

Things had jut gotten a lot more complicated...

 Snowflakes and Football
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

On Brooklyn's first day back at school since her leave for Wakanda, Brooklyn was down by
the apartment gate on time with Peter by her side. He'd brought out an umbrella to keep the
falling snow at bay, which was nice considering Brooklyn was already freezing.

To her surprise, when Damian came to pick them up that morning as promised, it was not in
his expensive sports car, but the egg blue, worn down Jeep which seemed to have new tires
on.

It was Roscoe.

As soon as the car pulled up, Jon got out of the passenger's seat and held the door open for
Brooklyn.

The gesture was so familiar she gladly accept the hug and welcome back from the gentle
kryptonian.

As soon as she settled down, Brooklyn turned to the driver's seat where Damian was already
gazing at her. He was wearing a black coat, his usual turtle neck and neat pants, but
something in him looked different...

Either way, Brooklyn was really happy to see him again...and Roscoe the Jeep too.

"Morning" he said, motioning to the space between them where a steaming cup of Starbucks
rested along with four others. One of them had her name on it, the other three were quickly
snatched by the excited Jon, Ned, and Peter in the back seats, already lost in conversation.

"You stopped for coffee?" Brooklyn questioned, opening the lid only to smell her favorite
drink within. A simple mocha with caramel shots, something she had told Damian was her
favorite drink since her job at the Cafe&Diner. But...she'd told him that weeks ago, how had
he remembered?

Damian pointed to the back seats, before steering the Jeep back into traffic.

"Jon insisted we make it a tradition to get coffee to warm everyone up in these cold months"
Damian said annoyingly, turning his eyes back on the road while Brooklyn searched the radio
until she came across an Elvis Presley classic.

"Haha Burning love!" Jon said, leaning over Brook's seat, "Get it, because you have fire
powers and because-"

Damian pushed Jon back to his seat.

"You'll spill coffee in my car" Damian reprimanded Jon, never talking his eyes off the snow-
filled road.

Speaking of car...

"Why did you bring the Jeep today? I thought you didn't want anyone else to be in it?"
Brooklyn asked, taking a sip of the delicious goodness and the warmth from the heater before
her.

Damian frowned.

"Unlike my car, the Jeep is more fitted for this kind of environment. Plus, I never said I
despised everyone else being in it, not you at least. I'm willing to compromise with the rest of
the team" Damian replied with a roll of his eyes, to which Jon fell back in his seat
dramatically, stating the insult was just too much while Peter and Ned burst into chuckles.

Brooklyn smiled too, glad to be back with all her friends, to be around the team after all that
had occurred.

She, Ned, and Jon broke out into song for the rest of the ride, and when the boys out back
were busy looking at funny videos, Brook had reached for one of Damian's hands, squeezing
it once, a gesture which he replied.

Though Damian mentioned it was dangerous and incredibly irresponsible, she was glad
pretending not to be friends around the team was no longer a thing, because while he drove,
Brook helped him take sips of his black coffee so he could be warm as well.

When the Jeep got to its usual parking spot, the one no cars dared park beside, Brooklyn got
out the car and stared up the Midtown high school building with a content sigh, clutching her
backpack and coffee.

Finally...she was back where she belonged.

Once they were out the car, Ned hugged Brooklyn and welcomed her back, an action with
repeated itself once they all made it indoors, brushing off the snow from their hair and clothes
and making to their lockers.

Harry, MJ, and Tanya had all spotted Brooklyn at the same time, and as Brooklyn shut her
locker, the three of them had tackled her into a hug that sent Brook crashing against the
lockers, almost knocking into Jon's and Damian's which were close by.

"What the hell happened to you! Do you still feel sick?" Tanya asked, placing a hand on
Brooklyn's forehead as if to check her temperature.

Had dad really used that as an excuse....a cold...how hilariously ironic.

"I feel much better" Brooklyn said, deciding to just go along with the cold excuse.

Luckily for Brooklyn, when the four had met up with Peter and Ned across the hall, Jon and
Damian had joined with the popular excuse that Jon wanted to see Yelena.
Yelena had greeted Brook with a firm nod, and though she was not the hugging type yet, the
blonde was kind enough to relent a smile of welcome.

No one found it weird, they knew Yelena was a 'shy' girl, plus with them being 'cousins' and
all, of course they had seen one another while Brooklyn was away sick.

So while Jon and Yelena compared history notes for an upcoming test, and the rest discussed
plans for going to see a new movie later in the week, Brooklyn took a second to bask in being
back in the busy school halls, to see the clicks of students passing by, the teachers scolding
the robotics team, and even the school news with Betty from decathlon.

Because of her long absence, MJ had been kind enough to email Brooklyn whatever the
decathlon team had reviewed lately. Brooklyn was confident in her knowledge, and even
though the national tournament in Washington, D.C was still months away, that would be
something to work on for sure.

While she was reading a banner for a winter bake sale hanging down the hall with little
interest, Brooklyn caught sight of Harley, who waved enthusiastically at her while he and his
friends seemed to be tossing a small rubber ball between one another.

The two had been texting a lot since she got back yesterday, and it had taken Brook quite
some time convincing her brother that all was fine and she was in no way hurt. He'd relaxed
after the two talked during a video call with mom and dad for dinner, like they were all eating
together.

He'd promised to keep an eye out on her, and mentioned something about Agent Claire
promising to take Brook home at any point of the school day should she need it.

The fact that Claire had a car of her own to drive Harley and Yelena to school now was
probably Happy's greatest joy by far...he must be off celebrating.

After waving back at her brother, she began to notice many students were looking her way,
sending smiles and small waves of their own as if they too were welcoming the Stark back.

Amidst her staring, Brooklyn noted the excessive amount of posters around school,
something which only happened when...the girl turned back to the group, noticing now that
everyone had shed their coats, that Jon and Harry were proudly sporting their football jerseys,
and Tanya was already in her cheer uniform, bright green bow atop her ponytail.

Of course....today was the qualifiers for state!

Seeming to see her realization, Harry stepped away from his conversation with MJ and Peter
to reach into his backpack and pulled out an extra jersey.

"You're lucky I figured you'd forget about the game while you were sick" Harry said, handing
it over, "Now put it on so I can have my good luck charm!"

Brooklyn smiled at the clean Osborn football jersey and promised to do so after school for
the game.
In an unexpected turn of events, Brooklyn caught Jon flushing as he too reached into his
battered backpack, pulling out an extra jersey and meekly asking Yelena if she would wear it
for luck.

Brooklyn had expected Yelena to throw it down the hall or declare luck was not real, but she
just rolled her eyes and put it over her red long sleeve.

Both Brook and Tanya smiled knowingly at one another, while Damian just rolled his eyes
and moved to stand beside Brooklyn.

It seemed that Jon's little victory set everyone in a good mood, because suddenly all the
group of friends could talk about was the game.

"Are you going?" Brooklyn asked Damian, glad to see no one in or out of the group was
looking their way for a few minutes.

Damian shrugged, "Don't I always? The question is, will you be going, or will your 'cold' be
too much of a hindrance?"

Brooklyn smacked her empty coffee cup against his arm for the joke, but ultimately decided
that even though her fear of control of the flames was always in the back of her head, it might
be nice to just spend her first day back amongst friends and with...with her anchor.

Classes went by uneventfully, but the peace and normality of them were a welcome comfort.
Many students welcomed Brook back like she'd been gone for a much longer time, and even
some of her teachers were glad for her return.

It made Brooklyn feel at home, forget about the burden of the Tesseract's power for a few
hours just to focus on being a normal student.

Thankfully, even in the annoying presence of Flash's welcome, her fire had not threatened to
activate once.

By lunch time, there had been no incidents in or out of school, and everyone had settled in
their usual spots.

Brooklyn did not hesitate to go to her own seat between Damian and Yelena after waving at
Claire and Harley at their own respective tables.

It was once she sat down and 'community' food was placed in the middle of the table, that
everyone began recounting their experiences for the day as per usual.

Apparently, there had been a Latin studies test that had made Harry's and Tanya's mood
somber.

The only one that had seemed confident in passing it was Damian.

"I knew I should taken German" Tanya mourned, letting her face fall on the blue and yellow
pompoms before her.
Harry was quelling his sorrows with food, but even with three sushi rolls in his mouth, her
friend still mangled to say, "Forget latin, I wish I would taken Chinese or Spanish! Great,
now I need a confidence boost for the game...hmm, bet I can fit fifteen grapes into my mouth
"

Brooklyn and Peter groaned, already overseeing their friend getting into some sort of trouble.
Brook was just hoping he wouldn't choke to death or anything, because the gala tomorrow
was hosted by Mr. Osborn and he probably needed a living son for that.

"You're a hazard to society" Damian muttered, which only spurred Harry even more to open
his bag of grapes.

Michelle was seated beside him. lazily reading her book until she noted the bag in his hands
and the glint in his eyes, "Hazard and a coward" she said, then slid over her own bag of
grapes, "Do twenty"

Luckily Tanya was there as chaperone, and Brooklyn was at least sixty percent sure the
cheerleader would save Harry if need be.

Ned then turned to Damian, Brooklyn, and Yelena, using the other's distraction to ask in a
whisper, "Did they teach you guys latin when you were young?"

Brooklyn smirked, "They taught us most languages in the world"

Yelena nodded beside Brook, trying not to look too comfortable in Jon's jersey (which
Brooklyn had noticed cause quite the stir in the female population at school today), as she
added, "Its to make jobs easier, for the espionage aspect"

Peter turned to Damian then, and though he hesitated for a second, he still asked, "But
Damian told us yesterday he wasn't a trained spy, so did you learn them?"

Damian shot Peter a single glare which made the teen look away, but after Brooklyn
interlocked their hands under the table, he replied tiredly, "I learned most world languages
simply because it is useful, a weapon to use in its own right"

Jon frowned, "I'm sure the reason WE learn languages here is to bringing cultures together
and for being able to communicate with one another for a more peaceful world. Why do you
guys always have to make everything so violent?"

Brooklyn smiled, especially when Yelena nodded in understanding, both her and Jon
momentarily getting lost in the small upward pull of her lips as if she was close to smiling at
his joke.

Those two...

Brook wondered why it was so easy to tell that Jon and Yelens had some sort of emotions for
one another but it was difficult to wage when she had feelings for someone. A pert of her had
not forgotten the little theory her brain had come up with yesterday.
It was even harder to forget not that she realized she and Damian were still secretly holding
hands under the table, and that his fingers were wound with her own.

They'd held hands before, but it wasn't till after school that Brooklyn realized it wasn't a
common occurrence between friends.

It happened on the way to the lockers after school. Since this was a very important school
game, it was set to start right after classes, so Brook and Tanya were trying to hurry to meet
up with everyone else.

At least MJ had already gone ahead to save good seats...

Yelena rushed over then, wearing Jon's jersey the way Brook wore Harry's under her Stark
Industries jacket. Tanya winked Brook's way when they both noticed Yelena had kept it on
despite her casual remarks that she would remove it later because it was stupid.

Only Brook had no time to tease about that yet, because Yelena rushed over, gripping Brook's
arm as she said in Russian, "I think Jon has manipulative powers, he walked me down from
the third floor and held my hand and now its tingling and I have the urge to hold it again!"

Brooklyn was aghast.

It was no secret that sweet Jon had some emotions for Yelena, only he actually knew what
they were and how he felt. Brooklyn was equally as lost as Yelena and Damian when I came
to such things, and as someone who had experienced the odd contentment of hand holding
with Dami...well the Stark assumed it was normal.

But it was very hilarious seeing how freaked out Yelena was, how she kept staring at her
palm in wonder.

That was until Tanya demanded a translation as she busied herself fixing her rosy lipstick on
Brook's locker mirror.

Yelena did not seem to mind, long since gotten used to Tanya's nosiness. It was when the
cheerleader dropped her gloss, mouth wide and eyes smiling that Brooklyn realized her
interpretation of that hand holding might be wrong after all.

"You felt happy when you held hands and you don't know what that means!? Seriously, how
sheltered were you two as kids!? You feel all giddy because Jon makes you happy, that means
you really like him" Tanya said to Yelena, who looked like she'd just be shot as she tried to
process it all.

If Brooklyn wasn't currently going through something similar, she might've been of more
help.

All of this was stuff neither widow was trained for, even their eldest sestra still seemed to be
working out feelings and emotions, and she was an adult who'd been 'normal' for longer.

If felt impossible though...for Brooklyn to fall for the one guy she wasn't supposed to.
Perhaps falling was the right term, it felt like a rollercoaster of emotions. Peter was a great
guy, a friend Brooklyn cherished very much, arguably her first connection to opening up to
someone...but it occurred to Brooklyn that Peter didn't know much of the bad of her past, and
the things he had seen he hadn't been able to cope with very much.

Her past with killing made Peter weary for a time, caused him to think she'd resort back to
the habit whenever the situation made it seem like so.

He didn't like the scars on her back, the day he'd hugged her, he'd flinched away from them.

Peter was a very kind guy, he likely felt like he was hurting her or knew she did not like to be
touched to some extent and was trying to respect her wishes. But Damian had not only dared
to delve into Brook's past, accepting it and helping Brook cope with it thanks to his own
experience, but he'd helped Brooklyn feel like those scars on her back were different.

It didn't feel like ruined flesh when Damian touched them, it wasn't a trigger of memories of
punishments and suffering. When Damian touched her scars, it was like when he held her
hand. It was just a reassuring touch, an anchor to the present.

Brooklyn vaguely had the sense that Tanya had looped their arms with her own and was
guiding the two stunned widows to the field, which made Brooklyn wonder if Jon's touch was
that kind of special reassurance to Yelena.

She wondered if Jon was her anchor the way Damian had become Brooklyn's.

The Stark had no clue what they would do if that was true...and when they made it out to the
snow covered field, watching Jon, Harry and their team cheering with Tanya's teammates,
Damian over at the stands looking around until his gaze found her own...

Brooklyn knew they were either very lucky, or had lost their minds.

When Tanya left to join the cheer squad, Yelena leaned on Brooklyn's shoulder as crowds of
cheering students with face paint and loud instruments began walking around them.

"Mozhet, Ivan vse-taki oshibalsya" Yelena whispered.

Maybe Ivan was wrong after all.

Brooklyn almost felt like she'd imagined Yelena saying that, because as far as Brooklyn was
willing to understand, that might as well have been the most honest acceptance of emotions
any Red Room assassin could've said.

If Yelena could accept and trust her heart....then why should Brooklyn be any different?

For some reason, Brooklyn began cursing Elvis Presley for the difficulty of it all.

**************

Damian POV-
Once again, Damian found himself in a less that favorable situation, standing in bleachers for
of hundreds of screaming teens with questionable hygiene and a knack for shouting lyrics of
modern music describing nothing but sexual intercourse.

The only reason he chose to stay was because Jon mentioned he appreciated the support, and
because his beloved was there to quell the insufferable attitudes of others around them, as
they busied themselves in predicting the plays on the field with statistical probability and
they own knowledge of the tendencies of the Midtown team.

As usual, the two ex-assassins were actually able to predict many of the plays done on the
field.

Jon's words were still ringing in Damian's head as he talked with Brooklyn though,
wondering if his emotions could be perceived by her or others the way Jon had found out,
even if he was of average intelligence.

It did not help quell the unrest when Jon scored and Peter moved to hug Brooklyn.
Something inside Damian turned unpleasant at the sight, made him want to turn away from
the insulting sight of Peter knowingly avoiding his beloved's back like it was the flames she
was so afraid of.

What complete disrespect...

A part of Damian had begun to think lately that it would be pleasant to be able to be around
Brooklyn in places like these without having to worry what all these useless peasants
thought.

When the team scored, he often saw Brooklyn almost retching out for Damian as if she
wanted to hug him, but there were too many eyes, to many expectations to be the Stark and
Wayne rivalry people still whispered about in the halls.

Sometimes, events like these became tedious, a reminder of sorts that Damian was playing
dangerous game, one that would not only bring about the wrath of his father and family, but
of many others with similar distastes.

Jon thought Damian was foolish for keeping these thoughts and emotions to himself, had
once mentioned that people like Brooklyn did not stay single for long. But Damian realized,
as he watched her cheering to her hearts content, the shadow from the events of Wakanda
vanishing, that he did not just like her for the purpose of being in a relationship with
her.....Damian just...liked her regardless.

His thoughts were snapped out when the half-time began and Peter left down to join the
school band.

The glowing scoreboard depicted a Midtown advantage of 20 to 6 from Manhattan's school

of performing arts.

Most cases with success had been a combination of Osborn's surprisingly good judgement,
and Jon's ability to catch and weave his way to the finish line. From what Damian had
observed, Jon was doing his best to play this game to the most human of his abilities, and as
Brooklyn pointed out, he was matching the running speed of other players to get rid of his
biological advantages.

Trust a Kent to want to play a fair game when the stakes were so high.

"He's doing quite well, all of them are" Brooklyn said, keeping her eyes forward on the field
so it wouldn't look like they were speaking to one another.

Damian kept his gaze forward as well, dusting the snow off his black coat and matching scarf
as he replied, "His family is all about honor and honesty. At least his other teammates are
competent that we could very well have a guaranteed win"

Damian couldn't see Brooklyn's face, but he could practically tell she had a smile on her face
as she said, "Is that faith I hear?"

Hilarious.

The Wayne did not believe in faith, it was not something Damian needed.

"Not today"

Just then, the band finished playing their song and after the crowd clapping had
seized,Damian noticed a few of the cheerleaders below waving and pointing in his direction.
One by one, they thought themselves very clever as they recited the letters of his name for
some reason, Bennet off to the side frowning at her team.

"What are they doing?" Brooklyn whispered, only to be answered with one of the girls,
stepping forward from all the cheering to shout out that the little display had been a way to
acknowledge the hottest guy in the stands, followed by a wink.

Damian ignored the intense stares from not only their side of the bleachers, but the other
school's as well from across the field.

Why was it that people insisted on making these events more miserable than they needed to
be?

Down below, Jon looked like he was either about to laugh or step forwards to do something,
when Damian became distracted by the feel of a cold hand discretely wrapping around his
own as Brooklyn yelled down.

"Anyone else you want to cat-call Beverley? Or did you brain freeze over in the cold that you
forgot you're supposed to be cheering for the football team?" his beloved said, earning
chuckles from the crowd and causing the so called Beverley to stomp away from the crowd
with a reddened face.

When Damian turned to Brooklyn, she looked angry, but her breathing seemed to be under
control.
Yelena was whispering worries for rising flames, as the Stark seemed to be aware that was a
very probable possibility, she made to remove her hand from his own, both still hidden by
their coats from the crowd.

Damian was not used to people defending him, often times, he was scolded for hurting
someone's feelings, but never....no one had chosen to think of him as the one being bothered,
much less when it was girls fawning over him in an unwanted fashion.

So he let the mess of emotions run free as Damian kept her hand in his own, certain no harm
would come to him.

None did.

Brooklyn's hand was cold under her leather gloves, but not anything out of the ordinary. He
squeezed her hand once, in gratitude, and decided he would keep their joint hands as such,
until he spotted a familiar family making their way up the bleachers.

"Limadha hadhih laysat mufaja'atan"he couldn't help but whisper at the sight of the five
Kents settling down not to far from Damian and the others.

"What's not a surprise?" Brooklyn whispered, and when he tugged on her hand to steer her
attention sideways, she almost stumbled in surprise.

As always, Damian's godfather was in his Clark Kent disguise, flannel jacket, what Jon loved
to call 'dad jeans', and those glasses that seemed to fool the world into not knowing he was
Superman.

Beside him was Lois, his wife, who was currently holding up a poster with Jon's football
number on it. Carried on Clark's arms were the twins, and those two trouble makers were
shouting praises to their brother.

Even with the ruckus from the crowds, Jon must've heard them with his special hearing,
because he looked right at them with a beaming smile, waving their way with vigor.

Damian observed that even as the snow fell, winds picked up, and masses got ready for the
second half of the game, all Jon cared about was his family. Even his teenage sister, the
insufferably kind Laura had abandoned her flute lessons for the day just to come cheer her
bother on.

As the players got ready to go back to the game, Jon seemed much more motivated when he
put that helmet on, and Brooklyn was smiling at the sight...or at least until Clark must've
sensed Damian and turned their way.

Both teens removed their hands from one another, and Damian did his best to seem
indifferent standing beside a Stark as the game went on. Last thing he needed right now that
Brooklyn was finally back, was for father to make him switch schools.

The second half went by longer without being able to speak to his beloved, but the game
became more interesting when Jon seemed to work harder this time around. He was still
within the confines of human abilities when he played, but he also made riskier plays, enough
so that even the other school cheered when the Kent scored.

Damian almost rolled his eyes how Jon would shoot his parents a thumbs up after every
touchdown, then wave to Yelena as if dedicating the win to her.

At least Brooklyn seemed to be having a blast pointing that out to the blonde with Ned and
Jones' knowing smiles.

The possible risk of frost bite was at least worth it when Midtown managed to secure a win to
state, something Damian was glad for....because he despised to lose.

The win sent the crowds into enough joy that everyone was accidentally knocking into
Damian, often times pushing him towards Brooklyn's shoulders.

It was when the confetti fell and the music began that the three assassins became startled by
the firing noise, thinking it was a gun.

They all got into defensive stands, only to feel rather foolish when colored scraps of paper
fell around them.

Still, something in Damian continued to make his heart beat at a fast pace when he noticed
Brooklyn looking up in the sky, adorned by color, a bright smile on her face as she stretched
out a hand to catch a few confetti bits from their decent.

That odd sense of wonder did not leave him, even as the celebrations ended and everyone
was ushered by the principal to return home.

Since Jon got a ride from his family, and Peter and Ned were being picked up by Mrs. Leeds
so they could go off to his home for something called D&D night, that left only Damian and
Brooklyn.

Peter had been frantic to let Brook go home alone until Damian told the idiot that she was
riding with him. The little web-shooter still had the audacity to thank the Wayne for it, as if
this was a favor done for him...

Damian tried not to show how eager he was to get away from all this as the group went to go
get their bags inside, then said their goodbyes and congratulations for Harry and Jon before
going their separate ways.

Because of the detour, the parking lot was not as busy, the rush and traffic bearable.

Still, Damian was glad to be out of watchful eyes as he wrapped his scarf around Brooklyn,
fastening it around her green coat to shield from the cold on the walk to the Jeep...their Jeep.

In truth, Damian had not chosen to take the Jeep to school today because it was better for the
weather, though that was a good advantage. He'd stood in his garage with two keys in hand
for some time, ultimately deciding that after Brooklyn being gone for so long, it would be
pleasant to use the Jeep and start the picking up routine of the team with it.
Brooklyn had seemed happy seeing the Jeep again, even more so when she took her favorite
place in the passenger's seat. Damian had convinced himself that he opened the door for her
now because of the darkness of the parking lot, to be chivalrous...but he knew those darn
feelings had something to do with it.

Brooklyn had smiled at his kind act, settled down on the seat and threw her backpack onto
the back.

As Damian rounded the egg blue vehicle his family still had no clue who owned or why it
was even in the garage, the teen turned back down the dark parking lot where Clark Kent was
in the process of rounding his red truck, family already inside.

The kryptonian noted the car, the keys in Damian's hand, the Stark passenger, and the
absolute lack of other human beings with them.

The Wayne froze as his godfather went wide eyed.

They both stood there in the darkness for a few seconds, and because Damian was no coward,
he shot the man a warning glare, then turned to get to the driver's seat, letting Brooklyn turn
on the heater and choose the music as they drove out the parking lot...with no choice but to
pass by the red truck where Clark was still staring at them.

Brooklyn had been singing along to a song she favored when they passed by, with Damian
unable to stop her so they could pretend to hate one another, but he knew it would be useless
anyways, Clark could likely hear a robbery all the way at the Queen's Mall.

Instead of freaking out, Damian kept his face passive, even as Brooklyn began cleaning off
snow and confetti from Damian's back coat.

It was just as they were about to finish passing the kryptonian that Damian noticed the man
smiling at them, shooting the teen a single nod (which the Wayne couldn't decipher the
meaning of) before they finally disappeared down the narrow pathway leading to the bustling
city of Queens.

Damian had debated telling Brooklyn of the encounter, but somehow knew Clark would not
snitch.

So he enjoyed the ride, taking the long way back to Brooklyn's apartment complex so she
could sing to her hearts content, so that they may point out the new advertisements around
the city and complain about the gala they would have to attend tomorrow after school.

When her made it to the front of her gate, Damian promised to be back tomorrow to pick her
up for school, with coffee of course. Brooklyn had smiled at him, making him swear to text
her when he got home, and after only a second of hesitation, she leaned forward as kissed his
nose in farewell.

Damian had waited until the gates closed and her text came through about being inside her
apartment, but even then, he didn't start the car for a while, he just sat there like an idiot,
looking at the black scarf lingering on the seat Brooklyn had been in.
 When he finally snapped out of the stupidity, Damian took off home, letting the voice of
Brooklyn's cherished Elvis Presley song and many others keep him company despite his
usual discontentment for anything other than news on the radio.

By the time he got home, Damian couldn't help but turn those odd emotions into hating the
man who's voice had followed him home.

He cursed Elvis Presley.

Chapter End Notes

Yes! Everyone is back together at last!

The next chapter is going to be very interesting, and I hope you will enjoy it very much.
Also, Clark Kent is such a sweet father...but now he's at home, watching TV, questioning
his entire existence. Damlyn broke him.

ClarkKent.exe stopped working.

 The Second Gala
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

As a true test of her control, Brooklyn now had to deal with her third greatest public
appearance.

Sure, she'd survived her first gala and Family day, but now she had the extra nerve wrecking
knowledge that she had unsettling flames in control.

Well, control was a strong word...it was more like she'd kept them at bay successfully.

The vibranium bracelets under the sleeves of her white dress were a comfort even when they
still froze her body, but it was winter, no one thought twice about her body being cold.

But an even greater comfort was the fact that she was her with her family.

Dad had come to pick her up after school, and the Starks had gotten ready at a nearby luxury
hotel in Bronx, near the Osborn Industries building where the charity gala would be held.

As mom had brushed and made little braids in Brook's hair while dad was fixing Harley's tie,
mom mentioned the event was for the inauguration a new children's hospital and for
immediate emergency care.

Given that this was Harley's first gala, mom and dad were quite excited and Brooklyn
couldn't help but join in on the festive ambiance, especially after yesterday's game, which
Harley had not gone to because he wanted to rest up for today.

Brook could tell her little brother was still nervous, so she made it her mission to reassure
him in the limo ride that all would be well, and that it might actually be a little boring.

All of this was bringing back memories of her first gala, the fear back then to prove herself as
a worthy Stark. This time around, Brooklyn had gotten her blinking under control for the
cameras, managed to find Harry early on and let him show Harley around to break his nerves.

Because the event was hosted on the large roof of the building, one decorated with greenery
and a marble center for couples to dance in, Brooklyn was left to socialize far out of her
parents sights as they danced with smiles and kisses.

She found it wasn't as hard to greet people now, she knew what these people were interested
in, and Brook was no longer the new novelty from before.

She actually managed to find the Richards family and greeted Frank with a hug. The two
spent some time talking about what Brooklyn had missed at Xaviers these past few days, but
eventually their easy flow of conversation had ended when Lex Luthor arrived and he began
making motions for his son to go over to her, likely to ask for a dance.

So Brooklyn spent the next half hour dodging the teen AND his dad.

Eventually her family had reunited at the table with food before them, and Lex Jr had to
relinquish his advances to go see his family in the dance floor without a partner.

Harley laughed at her misery for a good three minutes and she couldn't wait for him to be
pestered so the young boy could see what it was like.

It was during their little break from socializing that Brook overheard someone from a nearby
table make some very loud comments, a tall balding man speaking to his male colleagues,
some of which Brooklyn had briefly spoken to earlier.

"A lot of people will end up coming late today because of those mutant rallies, those freaks
think they deserve to be treated like us. I think they should all join Magneto and whatever
other international security dangers are roaming around" balding man said, causing the idiots
around him to laugh as their wine glasses raised.

Brooklyn followed their gaze, noticing the way the men turned to the table behind them in a
not so subtle way, scowling at the CEO of Worthington Industries. The Stark had met the
angel winged man at her first gala, had even talked to him earlier today as Brook informed
him how everyone at Xaviers was doing now that she knew he was part of the X-men.

Mr. Worthington clearly heard what those men had said, but seemingly used to the poor
treatment, he merely got back to eating his food.

The men clearly didn't like that someone was being more mature than them, because balding
guy stood up, making a show of pulling his suit sleeves into place before approaching the
Worthington table.

Mom and dad were too busy showing Harley how the automatic waterfall on eastern side of
the room worked, only Brooklyn and the other tables around them were witnesses of the man
approaching the mutant, demanding he should leave to be with his own people, that they
didn't want freaks here.

"Take your little wings for the only thing they are good for and fly away" the man had added
with a little too much satisfaction for Brook's liking.

Brooklyn thought of all she'd learned at Xaviers, not just to control her fire, but what she had
seen and heard regarding mutant treatment.

Mutants often came to Xavier's safe haven after escaping fights just for being born with a
power they did not choose. They had to hide from the world, and even with all the awful
treatment, they still trained to do some good in it, to stop those of their kind that took to the
abuse differently and wanted a more violent solution.
Brooklyn had seen the rallies against mutants long before she went to the mutant school, had
always shrugged them off because they did not matter in the least to her. Brook had even
shown much hesitation at being around mutants, had been weary of even Wanda from the
start.

But she knew better now, and Brook wasn't gonna let some snobby old man treat a good
human with disrespect...to hell with the consequences.

Without a word to her family, Brooklyn took hold of the white skirts of her long dress, and
fought to keep her composure as she approached the altercation. When she tapped the man on
the back, all attention from those nearby tables was on her, and the balding man himself
removed the scowl on his face to smile down at her.

"Miss Stark, such a pleasure to meet you! Is there anything I can do for you?" the man asked,
as if he wasn't just harassing Mr. Worthington seconds ago.

Brooklyn took a page of of her SHIELD training and chose to employ diplomacy first, even
if all she wanted was to body flip this idiot out the terrace so he could have a fun ride about a
hundred floors down.

Instead, she forced a smile and asked sweetly, "My apologies for intruding in your
conversation, but I couldn't help but overhear that you asked Mr. Worthington to leave under
no logical grounds, especially given that it is not you who has hosted the event, is that
correct?"

The man's eyes went wide, and when he looked to his buddies, they had were just as frozen
as he was.

He chuckled, smiling down at Brooklyn as he replied, "Oh, young Miss Stark, no need to
trouble yourself, this is just two adults having a conversation. I'm sure you wouldn't
understand"

Balding guy proceeded to laugh like this was all a joke, placing his hand on Mr.
Worthington's shoulder, and not to subtly pressing down on one of his white wings.

Brooklyn didn't think as she moved forward, swiping the ring covered hand off of the
mutant's shoulder, holding onto the idiot's wrist and squeezing just enough to let him know
she wasn't some weak little girl.

The man's eyes contorted in pain, bu then tried to force a smile when he noted everyone
around them was looking.

"Lets get one thing clear," Brooklyn whispered, but made sure to still be loud enough for his
buddies to hear, as well as every bystander than had done nothing to help, "Normally, the
person who approaches another looking for confrontation, spouting insults, thats the person
who would be consider the bad guy don't you think?"

The man whined at her hold, but said "Miss Stark, this doesn't concern you"
Brooklyn really needed to control her emotions right now, even when she had the vibranium
bracelets on. This idiot was testing her patience. So she took a second to think of Damian, of
the time they were both at a gala like this one, throwing insults at one another.

After a steading breath, Brooklyn said, "Of course it concerns me. I understand that you think
this undignified means of speaking and picking on others must be your way to try and
compensate for the fact that Mr. Worthington has a company much more successful than your
own, that perhaps you are trying to compensate for many things here tonight. But know that I
won't tolerate you spouting nonsense at a man who has every right to be here, perhaps more
than you"

The crowds went silent, and when the man began muttering to himself without actually being
able to say anything to argue his actions, Brooklyn smiled, looked over the balding man and
asked Mr. Worthington to eat at her family's table.

The angel gladly accepted, and Brooklyn was more than little surprised to not just see frowns
from people who clearly did not like her actions towards the mutant, but smiles and nods of
approval from many more of the onlookers.

On her way back to the Stark able, Brooklyn noticed her family had observed the whole
ordeal, and some part of her was expecting them to be disappointed for making such a
spectacle, but they only smiled her way, with pride, Brook realized.

Dad especially.

No one bothered Mr. Worthington since then, and during their little food break, Harley
actually became quite attached to the mutant, at last relaxing in the man's presence.

Harry had dropped by as well, settling beside Brooklyn so he could tell her all the new gossip
he'd learned. Apparently, Lex Jr had been questioning him about things Brooklyn liked. She
couldn't decide what was more amusing, that he thought getting information out of Harry
would be easy, or that his attempts had begun involving others.

The two teens had quite the laugh about that. In fact, they laughed about a lot of things, like
Harry's new suit which he'd childishly paired with a Spider-man handkerchief, even if he still
looked handsome as ever, with all girls, and even some women looking dreamily at him.

Luckily, when Harry and Mr. Worthington left to do some more obligatory socializing, the
Starks decided to sick together for a while, going around the roof to explore it beauty.

Mr. Osborn may be a sorry excuse of a father, even though Harry had mentioned that his dad
HAD changed recently, but he had an impeccable taste when it came to decorating. Even if
the man claimed to still be busy at his office downstairs, he'd at least made the party look
very nice...

Even in winter, this place looked bright and lovely, like a splash of spring.

The place was serene and full of colorful flowers, not at all what someone would expect out
of the serious man. Then again, Brooklyn was sure no one at this event had expected the
princess of New York to snap at a man...or perhaps they had, given the spectacle she put up
with Mr. Osborn and Mr. Wayne once upon a time.

As if barely thinking of the man was some form of summons, Brooklyn was one of the first
to see the large elevator open, seeing five figures emerging from its opening doors.

In complete Wayne fashion, the five Waynes were decked in finery, looking etherial and
unapproachable as always. The crowds around them went silent at the sight of their arrival,
and that silence only traveled as whispers of the Wayne spread.

Brooklyn's family had received a similar sort of welcome, but people had been a lot happier
to see Iron man and his family. Now, everyone seemed weary and awed at the same time.

As soon as dad turned around and caught sight of the Waynes, he groaned in displeasure,
pulling Harley behind him so he wouldn't have to 'gaze upon the enemy'.

Mom did no such thing with Brooklyn, in fact...was mom smiling?

Brook's gaze went back to the entrance, where the Waynes were walking as one past the
welcoming arches of frosted roses.

Mr. Wayne looked serious as ever, dressed in an impeccable black suit with his hair combed
back, and pregnant wife by his side in a tight black cocktail dress that showed the first signs
of her baby bump past the gray fur around her arms. She was smirking like a cat, surveying
the grounds with Dick Grayson by her side.

Brook noticed Damian's older brother was still as happy as he always seemed to be when she
came across him. Like his adoptive father, Dick Greyson was dressed in similar suit, and
even though he was head taller than Tim Drake, both could've passed as actual siblings with
their black hair and blue eyes, just like Bruce.

Where Dick was smiling and seemed to be comfortable as could be, the famous Tim Drake
had barely visible eye bags under his eyes, looked exhausted as a whole, and kept his facial
expressions neutral.

But Brooklyn's gaze lingered on the youngest Wayne, her best friend.

She knew he would be coming, the two had dreaded coming to this gala all day during school
hours. He looked....well it was no secret he was always very handsome, that cheerleader
yesterday had stated as much...

Damian looked comfortable in his own suit, which was no doubt hiding many weapons
underneath. He was the only one of the Wayne men who had not combed back his hair into
submission, but left it neat and looking soft to the touch.

Some part of her almost forgot that they were meant to be enemies to the world, because she
had to stop herself from going over to greet him.

Damian was glaring at everyone who dared to make eye contact with him, the usual, but
when his gaze met her own those green eyes lingered.
It was like the entirety of the room vanished in that moment, those worries of loosing control
of her fire long gone as she caught the kindness in those eyes no one but her could decipher.

That brief moment of normalcy was disturbed when the Waynes stopped right before the
Starks in the middle of the room, as dad and Mr. Wayne engaged in the stupidest of glaring
contests.

Everyone had gathered around them, as if eager to see a fight between rival families.

Some part of Brooklyn realized that she was supposed to act like she hated Damian, and so
far, all she'd done was stare at him.

So she put on her best glare and shot it at the youngest Wayne, reminding herself that they
had both agreed at school that no matter what they said here, it was in no way true to what
they actually felt. More true in Brook's case since she was trying to repress having emotions
for her best friend that were above just being secret best friends.

When Damian glared back at her, Brooklyn was surprised by the urge to want to laugh. The
two had been putting on these little displays of hatred at school all this time that it was almost
comical how unaffected she could be by them.

To everyone's surprise, the tension was broken by the eldest Wayne son, who stepped forward
and bowed dramatically.

Dad seemed to be caught of guard, because he turned his glare away from Bruce to stare at
the man known as Nightwing.

Everyone but Tim Drake seemed surprised by the action of one of their own, especially when
Dick said causally, as if they were all good friends, "Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, its a pleasure to see
you again, looking spiffy as ever"

Though Damian's eyes were wide with disbelief, the prodigy Tim merely rolled his eyes, and
Brooklyn couldn't desipher why.

The eldest Wayne greeted Harley with a smile, even though Brook's brother was still standing
behind dad as if to protect himself. When that attention turned to Brooklyn, she was more
than surprised when Damian's brother stepped forward again to take her cold hand into his
own.

It was with a beaming smile that the man said, "Its a pleasure to see you again Miss Stark,
our families simply don't see much of one another, what a shame don't you think?"

Was that a taunt? A way to securely reference everyone's secret identities?

Damian was right, there was something that was very odd about his eldest brother, even if he
still had the greatest body and ass in this whole room.

"I think our families would benefit from seeing less from one another" Brooklyn answered,
reminding herself that just because she and Damian were friends did not mean the rest of his
family still didn't hate her.
This must be some sort of little game to embarrass her and her family, one Damian clearly
had no clue of by the looks of it.

Dick made a little pout as if the comment had injured him, but as the strings of violins, piano
keys, and harps came on once more, Nightwing seemed to perk up, not hesitating in the least
to say, "Hmmm, perhaps so Miss Stark, but since we're standing in the middle of the
ballroom right now, it would only be polite that you accept my offer to dance"

Dad burst into a coughing fit, looking like he was ready to pull Brooklyn back until mom
placed a hand on his shoulder to stop Tony dead in his tracks. Over Dick's shoulder, Mr.
Wayne was looking at his son's back like he'd lost his mind, but the eldest son merely shot his
dad an amused expression as if to say his actions were to make Brook miserable.

Clearly, there were a few screws loose, because why would he ask Brooklyn of all people to
dance?

The gazes from the crowd were quite evident though, refusal was likely impossible unless
she wanted to make an even bigger spectacle that earlier.

Sneaking a look at Damian, he seemed angry, but more surprised than anything. He really
had no idea what was happening.

When Brook looked back at her own family for guidance, Harley looked like Brooklyn had
been asked to dance by the devil, and dad was barely keeping his anger in check, likely trying
to come up with a witty remark to get Brook out of this mess. But mom...Pepper gave Brook
a look, urging her to agree.

Unable to fight her mom on anything, and atop the clear public pressure, Brooklyn rolled her
eyes and clasped Dick Grayson's offered hand, leaving both families no choice but to make
their way to the outskirts of the dance floor as partners began pilling in.

Dad sent her a look, mentally saying, 'Remain strong, sorry for the torture'.

With that, Dick guided her away from the center of the room, next to a couple that like all the
others, was forming circle around the already circular dance floor.

Once the music picked up its rhythm, Brooklyn was forced to hold hands with Damian's
brother, ushering his other hand to rest at her waist, not her back. The Wayne did not seem to
mind, and kept a respectable distance as they began their dance spinning around the dance
floor.

Brooklyn felt like beating that smile out of his face after only a few seconds, but all hundreds
of pairs of eyes were on the two of them, so she could do nothing but try and match his wild
dancing pace that was so unlike Damian's soothing and precise moves, that she almost
struggled with it.

It was half way through their first rotation round the room that Dick finally spoke up.
"Is it really that torturous to be around a Wayne? To dance with one?" he asked, calloused
hand holding on gently to her own as he looked down at Brook, expecting an answer.

"What's your game, Wayne? You hate me and I hate you, there is literally no purpose in us
dancing together" Brooklyn said, exasperated at not being able to figure out his little game.

Dick smirked wider, not maliciously, but as if he found her amusing.

"You danced with my youngest brother once, why not me?" he asked.

At the mention of Damian, Brooklyn tried to look across the room, past the dancing couples
to try and find his gaze for guidance. But she couldn't spot him or her family yet. In fact,
Brooklyn was staring to worry that if this idiot made her mad, he might end up a burnt pile of
Nightwing ashes on the floor.

"Its not like I chose to dance with your brother" Brook argued, trying to sound indifferent.

The Wayne smirked wider, "I suppose not, but you two were quite remarkable that day. You
guys go to school together now, right? Always find yourselves fighting the Joker at the same
time too"

Oh, now she understood.

"Is this your big brother speech telling me to stay away from your bother? Because I hate to
break it to you, we are fighting the same enemy and do share classes with one another.
Despite out distaste for one another, we can't avoid sharing the same world"

The Wayne broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Not at all! I was just observing the situation of things. I haven't forgotten your small mercy
of bringing my brother back home safe that day long ago, thought you beating Jason on his
ass was a greater public service for sure! I'm just a thinking on all you've gone through with
little D"

Brooklyn frowned, especially as the Wayne, dipped her along with the other couples right as
they passed by the area where the Waynes were standing at the edge of the crowd, only Mr.
Wayne's wife and Tim Drake seemly amused by all this mess.

"So thats why you brought me to dance?" Brooklyn said as they passed his family, "Because
of a thought?"

"Think of it as advice from one hero to an aspiring one, a way to repay you for saving my
brother. I know you plan to be an Avenger, and I'm willing to tell you that though you clearly
have the heroic thing down to some extent, that wish of yours will spread far beyond being a
hero one day" He said confidently, keeping his voice in a whisper as he added, "Maybe one
day you'll want someone you can count on and call your own...we all want something that
will last forever. But what we get is love. Batman would say that morals are the bottom lines,
the thing that lasts. I've heard him say that no matter what, you depend on yourself to respond
with predetermined ethical integrity. I know that's true for him, but I'm not so sure I agree
with the principle in general. I think most of us surprise ourselves a lot. Most of us run on the
fly. Maybe what matters most is the person we're hoping to impress"

Brooklyn was silent, unsure why a Wayne was speaking with such honesty.

Seeing her attention on him and no longer the crowd around them, Dick continued, "For
years and years, I tried to evaluate every move I made through Batman's eyes. I was morally
reliable, almost predictable. Whether or not he actually held me accountable to standard I set
for myself in his name was irrelevant. I was inspired. When I finally let go of that...I was lost.
I could still operate on habit, but everything felt empty. I didn't belong to anyone. I had
nothing to live up to. Now, I have someone else, a wife that is more than enough. She is a
friend, an intimate, and an inspiration...and she is smart enough to know I still had some
growing up to do back in the day. Suddenly, I have a whole new appreciation for Batman"

"Why?" Brook dared to ask.

"Having someone count on you for their physical and emotional safely is intense, it's another
another set of expectations you have to live up to. And maybe they're even more demanding
than the ones you set up yourself. Ultimately, I'm sure we have to frow to become our own
judges, and mentors, and charges. And I'm also sure that that's going to be the hardest goal of
all to live up to as a hero, Miss Stark" Dick replied.

Brook scoffed,"So this was it? How am I supposed to take advice from you when I don't even
know what kind of 'hero' you are? You could be leading me astray with fake advice"

Dick chuckled at her words, "Fair point. My wife once asked me why do I do this, asked why,
when I get up in the morning, I look forward to putting on my costume and fight the bad
guys. Well, I always thought I was a fairly well adjusted guy who looks forward to wearing a
costume. I mean I'm not out for revenge, and I have more than enough money to buy my own
island hideaway. My siblings would say it's because I know it's the right thing. But I think
they're wrong"

Brooklyn chuckled bitterly, "So you're not Mr. Righteous and Benevolent?"

The Wayne looked down at Brooklyn, not with a frown at the insult, but amusement once
again as he spun Brook around a few times to the beat of the music, adding a few dramatic
hand gestures and feet placements that made him look like a goose.

When he pulled her close again, he replied, "Here's some more advice I think you already
know. It's impossible to think of anything other than the immediate moment when you're
trading punches with some meta powered glandular reject. When your fist connects with
flesh, you're not thinking of the past. When fists dislodge bone, it's hard to think of some
stupid thing you said to someone you love, and when you are half-dead on the ground, half-
blown to pieces ... it's impossible to think. I do this job because it's the only thing I dare let
myself do. I do this because its easier, much easier than having to think, but I think you can
be better"

Brooklyn found that his ramblings actually held some sense, that they were perhaps not
meant to be insulting but just genuine advice.
Damian had once told Brooklyn that his brother was the leader of the Teen Titans for a
reason, that he'd learned the best qualities from Bruce Wayne and managed to go beyond
them to earn a life of leadership on his own terms.

Perhaps that was right too.

"I wouldn't have thought a Wayne would be so open to accept a Stark as a future hero"
Brooklyn said, still weary of his intentions.

Blue eyes met her own with nothing but kindness.

"At the end of the day, last names don't matter when we all live on the same Earth, Miss
Stark. The more people out there trying to do some good, the better. Just remember what I
said about deciding what kind of hero you want to be, and maybe even opening up a little to
people. I see that hesitation in you, and in my little brother too, I know part of it is a defense
mechanism. You don't want to be defined by the terrible thing that happened, you don't want
to be hurt anymore. You two want to be someone stronger. So you 'try on' different masks
until you find the right you. What I'm saying is that you don't have to do it alone kid, none of
us do"

The song ended then, and Dick moved to squeeze her hand once before bowing and leaving
her standing there, confused, as the crowds moved around her.

Brook had no clue what to make of his advice, wondering why he chose now of all times to
remember she'd saved Damian once.

Some part of her understood now why Damian held his eldest brother in such high regard,
because there was a lot of goodness in him. Sure, Dick Grayson seemed too happy at times,
perhaps a little talkative, but it was actually nice to see that someone who'd been a Robin
since youth, fought who knew what and lived through horrors of the world, could still have
the ability to smile.

Brooklyn just hoped she would end up like that as well in a few years.

But she was also scared, because that bit about finding someone to rely on...Brook already
had someone like that, Dick just had no idea it was his own brother.

When mom and dad stepped forward with Harley in tow, they asked if she was alright. Dad's
first thought was that the Wayne had threatened her, unaware of what may be the first and
only kindness from a Wayne other than Damian.

Brooklyn just made up the excuse that Dick wanted to see his father mad, but Tony still kept
an eye on Brooklyn, making sure no other Waynes would ask her to the dance floor ever
again.

As Brook turned to look at Damian, she noticed his eldest brother was patting him on the
shoulder as if nothing had happened, even when Dami looked livid.
It was clear Dami wanted to talk, so did Brook, but it took a while for their families to
disperse from one another and forget what happened.

When the Stark noticed Damian excuse himself downstairs to the restroom, she subtly
mentioned to her family that she had to go patch up her make up.

It looked like mom was about to offer to go with her, but then she must've spotted an
acquaintance in the crowd by where Damian was leaving, because instead of coming, she told
Brooklyn to take her time and ushered dad and Harley for a dance.

It took some weaving through the crowds, replying to greetings and smiling at eager men and
women trying to stop her so that they could talk, but eventually through many practiced
manners, Brooklyn made it to the quiet hall a floor down from the party.

Brook looked to the two bathrooms wondering if Damian expected her to go into the men's
room, but then her best friend peeked from down the hall, leading Brook to a room that
looked to be made for storage of silverware and table decorations.

She closed the door behind them, glad for the small amount of light from a high up window,
and for the seemly spacious space.

Damian wasted no time walking up to her, eyes frantic as he held onto her shoulders gently.

He'd unwound his bow tie, which made him look a little more frantic that usual.

"What did my brother want, beloved?" he asked.

Brooklyn was not offended by the lack of greeting, had it been the other way around, she
would've skipped them too.

The Stark tried to find the best way to explain what had just occurred, but ended up saying,
"It wasn't to fight or anything, he just felt he owed me for saving your life that day I took you
home after the Joker incident. I think he just didn't want to remain indebted to me is all"

Damian rolled his eyes, at last letting his posture relaxing as he whispered, "My brother is
such an idiot"

Brook couldn't help but smile at the words, and upon realizing that they were finally away
from people they had to pretend around, she moved to hug her best friend...and embrace
which he returned.

Hugging Damian was like a re-charging of batteries, and Dick Grayson's confusing words,
and the madness of the gala vanished with it.

"I bet you enjoyed dancing with my brother" Damian teased with a frown, "Since you fawn
over his below average physical attributes all the time"

In truth, Brooklyn just loved teasing Damian with that, even if Dick Grayson was far from
below average, just as Damian was....not that she thought he was good looking as in she liked
him of course! It was just that he was good-looking as in something a best friend would
think...

Gods, she was a mess.

"Your brother is actually not a vey good dancer, I find you are the only person who can keep
up with my pace" she said honestly, watching as Damian relented a barely visible smug
smirk.

"Good" he replied softly, pushing back a strand of her hair with the outmost delicacy,
"Because you are the only worthy dancing partner I'll acknowledge"

Brooklyn smiled at his words, the honesty in them.

"I can't help but agree, though Lex Jr has been following me around all day for a dance" she
joked, not minding when their foreheads came to rest together, such a soothing gesture that
Brooklyn almost thought...no...not possible.

Damian whispered, "Then perhaps I can tie him to one of the trees upstairs so he can leave
you be, my beloved"

Brooklyn chuckled, even when she had some inkling that if she agreed, Damian would
absolutely do it.

They stayed there, resting their minds and bodies from the chaos from up above where they
would have to socialize and smile, when all they wanted to do was go on patrols with Peter,
Ned, and Yelena.

But unfortunately, this was part of their lives as well...

In that peace, Brooklyn's heart began to pick up as she noted just how close to one another
they were, a distance that Tanya would swear was not normal friendly behavior. Damian had
his hands caressing her covered back, her own on his arms as she tried to fix his tie with her
eyes closed.

Sometimes their noses would touch, and though it did sent a spark of...something along her
mind, the closeness felt right and soothing like nothing else could.

It made her wonder if all galas would be like this for all their lives, sneaking away for a few
seconds of peace where they could just be best friends...just Brooklyn and Damian.

The peace of the moment and the strange urge to lean forward ended when the two heard
muffled screaming, things crashing, and rapid steps up above. In seconds, the pair separated
and rushed back upstairs, with Brooklyn having to pull up her long skirts just to not trip on
the winding steps.

When they both emerged, the once peaceful roof was in chaos, with people in finery running
away to any exit they could find, almost battling for who would get into the large elevator.
Tables were flipped, petals of plants scattered all over the place, and as soon as Brooklyn
caught sight of the men in clown masks shooting at people, both she and Damian shared a
nod before slipping to find their families.

Brooklyn only had one goal at the moment...and that was to get Pepper and Harley out of
here. Happy would still be downstairs, so it was up to her now to protect them.

There were so many people running the opposite way of her that she had to fight the current,
ignoring the rips at the bottom of her dress from careless stomping of strangers as she yelled
for her family.

She had to dodge bright beams of blue light from alien weapons that seemed to shock people
into unconsciousness. As Brook made her way through to the last place she saw her family,
she made sure to push people of of the way of some of the lasers too.

Family was priority, but she was still a SHIELD agent.

Since dad was the only one here with no need for a secret identity, he was already flying up
above in one of his suits, clearing a path for people to leave by blocking all incoming shots
with tables and chairs.

There were too many people near the enemies to make good shots, there were too many
citizens for him to protect and too many enemies to fight at the same time.

Without hesitating, Brooklyn yelled at GIL to send her flight suit and her hero suit as well. It
might take a while to arrive, so all Brooklyn could do now was tackle down men in masks,
throwing their deadly weapons onto the large waterfall as she passed.

Then, just as she made it to the area near the balcony outlooking the city, where a large frozen
rose garden lay, she spotted mom and Harley under a table, holding each other close as lasers
passed by them.

Thats also when she noted the Joker's presence on the other side of the room, standing above
the raised platform where the orchestra used to be and where only bleeding instruments could
be seen now. The clown looked as frantic as ever, eyes wide with mirth at the destruction
around him, that same unnervingly large red smile across his lips that was barely stitched
together.

His gaze was on dad's attempt to keep the citizens safe while he tapped his black ebony cane
on the floor with glee.

The Waynes must be somewhere getting their costumes ready, and Brooklyn should think to
do the same, AFTER she got her family to safety. It was only when she got closer that Brook
realized there was someone else under that table with her family.

It was Selina Wayne.

She looked frustrated at not being able to do anything, something expected of the Catwoman
who'd seen her adopted children suffer at the hands of the Joker. But mom was standing
protectively before her as Mrs. Wayne clutched her barely visible baby bump with worry.

Once she reached them, Brooklyn had to quickly block an incoming beam with a nearby
chair so it wouldn't hit her family and the Wayne.

Brook was livid at that point, looking to the masked clown as she placed her Stark watch into
place and shot the guy with a beam that sent him crashing into a nearby fountain.

It wouldn't kill him, but he wouldn't be getting up any time soon either.

When she looked under the table again, she first noticed Harley's silent tears while holding
his hands out to protect mom. Mom looked to be doing fine, keeping calm probably for the
sake of the pregnant woman and her son.

Thats when Brooklyn heard the sounds of both of her suits arriving, as well as dad landing
beside her.

Tony pulled her into a quick hug.

"I was looking for you" he said.

Brooklyn smiled, "Did you get everyone out?"

Dad got out of his suit, letting it cover their backs as he pointed behind them where the
Waynes had finally arrived and were helping get everyone out.

"They had to make a show of swinging around the city blocks so that their being here could
not be traced back to the Waynes. The fact that the Joker is here makes it more believable I
guess" dad said, "But the elevator broke and the staircases are full"

Brooklyn nodded, and did not hesitate to help the three out from under the table, even the
Wayne. Brook then guided a shaking Harley to her hero suit, because it was a tighter fit than
the first one, he should be able to still fit.

He did, but ended up looking frantic when he realized she wasn't getting in the other suit.

Dad had already sacrificed his own suit to let mom inside, and when Brooklyn took Selina's
hand and guided her into the more spacious flight suit, dad looked like he was about to tell
the teen to get inside it and go to safety.

Then he beheld Mrs. Wayne's swollen belly, and despite family rivalries still in play, he let
Brooklyn help the woman inside despite her complaints. Once the suit closed, she could
barely hear Harley's pleas or her mother's screaming for Brook and Tony to be safe.

Just as Brook was telling the A.I. in her Stark watch to fly the two suits to a safe location,
Mrs. Wayne asked, "Why are you helping me, Stark?"

Brooklyn sighed, rolling her eyes as she put her blaster glove back on.
"Does it matter, focus on your baby and stay safe" she snapped back, standing beside dad as
the three suits became airborne and flew out the terrace.

Realizing dad was now unarmed, Brooklyn shrugged off her Stark watch and gave it to him,
especially as she noticed some of the masked men turning their way. She placed it into his
hesitant hands, and before he could yell at her to keep it, Brooklyn reached under her dress to
the holsters on her thighs where daggers lay.

She cut off the excess fabric of her dress, mourning the beauty of Nat's gift as she left it long
enough to reach her knees in a mess of loose uneven cuts.

Brooklyn wasted no time, throwing two of her daggers at incoming masked criminals, hitting
them right on the shoulders and legs so they would remain useless on the floor but not dead.

"I'll be fine dad. The watch heats up my vibranium bracelets too much anyways. Let's just try
and stop as many as we can until another one of your suits arrives" she said, knowing full
well dad had a dozen suits he had likely already called, perhaps even the Avengers as well
since the Joker was involved.

Dad seemed to hesitate, but when the weapon lasers began firing around them and more of
the Joker's henchmen descended from the sky in parachutes, he warned her to be careful and
began firing away.

With that, they got to fighting.

Brooklyn caught sight of Robin fighting by his family, slowly punching their way to the
Joker. Dami seemed to be doing well, but Brook couldn't help but seek a few glances every
now and then just to make sure he was ok. She actually noticed he did the same.

It was after a quick peek that Brooklyn noticed the balding man from earlier was cowering on
the side lines, and after a shot was fired close to his body, he flinched and began sobbing.

Even though the hit missed the man, it did not miss the decorative column behind him.

Just as it began topping down, despite being hesitant of whether it was worth it or not, she
rushed over and tacked him out of the way. They both tumbled to the ground, and Brooklyn
barely had enough time to take a fallen steak knife and embedded it into a masked man that
had tried to fire at them.

Almost comically, the shot hit the column behind them, and it too began toppling down
towards the teen and the sobbing man...only to be stopped by a flying angel who swooped in
and held it up long enough for Brooklyn to pull the balding man away from danger.

Brooklyn made sure the man was looking when she pointed at the flying angel above them,
shooting feathers to pin bad guys to the walls, then she pointed at the Joker.

She looked down to the CEO and said, "That idiot is human, not mutant, and he's the freak
around here...and it was a mutant that just saved your sorry ass, remember that"
The man nodded wildly in understanding, then scurried away to the staircase Brook pointed
too, making sure others hiding under nearby tables did as well.

Brook also spared some time to smile up at Mr. Worthington in thanks, a gesture the angel
returned before flying over to help some people who were apparently debating just falling to
their deaths rather than face the Joker.

During the fight that followed, Brooklyn did her best to get the citizens away from the chaos,
but even now....she still would not remove the vibranium bracelets to use her fire.

When she ran out of daggers, Brook took to using silverware and just about anything she
could find, as well as her hand to hand combat. Like the others, she too was making a move
towards the Joker now, who's hood up on that stage so smugly, with too many clown guards
around him to throw a fork at him.

It was during the battle, after she flipped a criminal to the floor and breaking his arms, that
Brook's quick glance of her surroundings let her see that the Wayne with the black mask,
cape, and red chest piece (Tim Drake) was about to be shot in the back while he busied
himself taking down four armed criminals.

The alien shots did not seem to be fatal, but still...

Brooklyn didn't even debate it as she quickly reached for her black heels, towing them at
criminal's hands so he would drop his weapon, which looked to have been charging, seconds
away from firing.

Then she grabbed another nearby steak knife, and after quickly rolling forward on the floor to
get more momentum to account for the distance, Brooklyn threw the knife, watching it
embed itself into the criminal's shoulder.

The thump of his body and the scream were enough to alert the Wayne. Tim Drake looked
around to see who got the body now laying before him, and when his eyes stopped on
Brooklyn, who still had her arm stretched out from the throw, he looked shocked beyond
belief.

Neither had time to say a thing, because the Joker's voice could suddenly be heard all across
the roof, and on stage, he was comically testing out the mic with numbers and the hero names
of the Waynes.

"Hello my audience! I must say, it is an honor to finally meet the Iron Man! What a treat!"
the Joker said, chuckling once he realized all his lackeys were defeated, and both Waynes and
Starks were making their way over to him.

When the Joker's gaze met her own, he was confused for a second, as if he hadn't expected he
Stark heiress to stay, much less remain standing with blood stains all over her dress.

The Joker had no idea she had been messing with him from the start...good, let him
underestimate her.
"Its over, Joker" Batman said, stalking closer to the barrier of the Joker's guards, with his
body hidden under his cape, hands and body unseen. Not that he needed to do anything, not
as his children threw small bat-shaped throwing weapons at the clown's shield of masked
humans.

They all fell to the ground in pain, but the Joker seemed unfazed, simply moving to sit on the
piano with the microphone still in hand, leaning on its side like a supermodel.

The ugliest supermodel for sure....

"Is it over, Batsy?" the Joker said mockingly, "After all the troubles you've caused me, you
think I came here just to be stopped?"

Brooklyn made to stand by her dad's side, who's suit jacket was gone and white shirt was
already wrinkly. She kept an eye out on their surroundings in case of any unpleasant attacks.
But it seemed that now it was just them and the Joker, plus the news helicopter that was
slowly making its way toward them.

"Listen to the oversized cosplayer," Tony yelled back, blaster pointing at the Joker, stop this
madness, "we'll take you over to Sephora, get your make up fixed then send you to a lovely
quiet place were loons like you can gossip about the latest episode of the Kardashians. What
do you say, Pennywise? Down to surrender without getting beat up, because that would be
easier for the make-up people when they try to fix your complexion"

The joker laughed, only making the action look creepier when he tipped back against the
keys of the piano, continuing his chuckles until it seemed like the clown might run out of
breath.

"See that, Batsy! You should be more like him, he's funny, got a real sense of humor unlike
your brooding self!" The Joker yelled into the microphone, face morphing into a devilish
smirk in seconds as he looked to the three vigilantes surrounding the calm and composed bat.

"Tell me, how's the family fairing these days?" the clown mocked, which caused Robin to
step forward, point a katana in warning.

The clown frowned, crossing his legs as he whispered into the mic, "Geez, so touchy, its only
been a few deaths an attempted murders! But I guess its alright, you lot have much more to
worry about now"

More?

"What are you talking about? What have you done?" Brooklyn said, moving away from her
dad to stare down the Joker.

The clown looked down at her, his smile widening as he shouted into the mic, "If it isn't the
new celebrity of the world! The beautiful Brooklyn Stark! I must say Brooklyn is a very
peculiar name. Did you know that on Memorial Day of 1883, a woman's heel got caught in
the planks of the pedestrian promenade of the Brooklyn bridge, and when she started
screaming, it led the people around her to believe that the bridge was about to collapse, which
caused twelve people to be trampled to death!"

Brooklyn tried not to shudder at the image, much less at the insane reason the clown had
brought it up.

"Well, as you can see, thanks to you, I no longer have heels on...and I'm not afraid either you
son of a bitch" she replied, clutching a nearby knife, hell bent on throwing it at his head.

Brook had never forgotten the day he'd almost beat Damian to death, when he sent a bomb
after him and men to ambush him....no, she had not forgotten.

The Joker's mouth widened in mocking surprise, moving his cane to point at her.

"You...I think I like you too, enough that I'll let you in on a little secret" the Joker said, then
whispered into the mic, "I'm not here to fight, just to deliver some...not so happy news. See, I
placed a nifty new bomb somewhere to test it out, to make a little gift for my favorite Bat"

Everyone went still, suddenly realizing that either he could be bluffing to by himself time, or
it could be very real and he was the only one who could tell them of the bomb. It could also
be right here...

"Where?" Batman asked, voice deep and unrecognizable, but full of the promise of pain.

"This little gathering here today made me really think of children you know, of how lucky
they will be in that new hospital of theirs. It seemed only fitting that they got the honor of
seeing my new little invention from our friends in the stars, don't you think?"

Oh no....the hospital!

The news helicopter arrived then flashing a spotlight on all of them, and all Brooklyn wanted
was to yell at them to warn the hospital, but then a ticking resonated across the room.

One second, Brooklyn was staring at the Joker, who was making clock ticking gestures...the
next the roof went into chaos.

She felt the pain of being knocked down on the floor by what must've been a hand grenade,
Brook actually had to push out debris of the tables to stand up. When she did, clutching her
aching head, Brooklyn noticed the Joker was gone from the stage, the light of the helicopter
following him.

Brook would've tried to run after him, knowing he had no where to go, but then the helicopter
landed before him, and the gust of the moving turbines was enough to keep them all at bay as
the Joker got in and left with a salute, disappearing above the clouds as snow began falling.

The next few minutes were filled with chaos. One of dad's suits arrived shortly after, and he
took it downstairs to warn Mr. Osborn and the authorities of the bomb while Brooklyn stayed
behind to help hand over the criminals to the rookie police force of the city that looked too
terrified to arrest the vigilantes or question why the teenage Stark was still there..
The once beautiful roof was in ruins, nothing but colorless chaos and smoke now.

Mr. Osborn sent security to his new hospital, worried for the patients there regardless of
wether the threat was real or not, he evacuated them. It was a good thing he did, because once
everyone was out, not a half hour later, the hospital exploded into a cloud of smoke, its
structure collapsing on the screen of the TV down at the Osborn building lobby where
Brooklyn was now getting a few scratches taken care of.

Luckily, Wada had been sent by dad, and she'd been able to contain the explosion
successfully so there was no damage anywhere else.

Overall, they had all gotten very lucky, no one had died here or at the hospital...some were
injured, but no one dead...

She heard when Mr. Osborn angrily declared war on the Joker for what happened. She also
saw as Mr. Lex Luthor, the crazy bastard she'd been avoiding all day long with his son,
actually stepped forward then a little too enthusiastically.

Lex had offered to help out his friend, saying he would provide any and all resources or
money to help stop the Joker from commenting more tragedies.

When dad had come back, he'd made the sane decision to only let Mr. Osborn in on all the
plans and leads to catch the Joker.

It appeared now Harry's dad was also involved in the hunt for the Joker, just for completely
yet not unrelated reasons.

Batman and the others had been forced to leave a while ago when more cops came by,
knowing they wouldn't be appreciated here. It had still been hard to see Damian go, but they
had both silently promised to atone for the near tragedy by going on some extra patrols
tonight just to make sure New York was safe.

Before they had left, when Brook and the Waynes were helping turn over the criminals, and
the real police forces were coming in, thats when Damian had refused to leave. Brooklyn
knew he didn't want to leave her alone after all that happened, hell, she was worried for him
too now that the Joker crawled out of whatever hole he'd hid inside lately.

Damian's dad had ignored his son, moving towards Brooklyn then, his expression unreadable
under that cowl mask. He moved like a levitating ghost, though it was likely because of the
lack of visibility of the man's feet and body, still, for once in her life...Brook became weary of
the man.

"What you did was very irresponsible!" Bruce yelled at her, "You had no way to defend
yourself and if it had come down to a greater fight, you would've only been a liability just to
play hero with your insufferable father. What kind of Avenger trainee are you?"

Brooklyn was shocked to be scolded by none other than Bruce Wayne...but she was tired and
angry, far to much to let him push her around.
 "I held up my own old man, not that its any of your concern what I do or don't do, because
you don't control me like you do everyone else! But you're welcome for the help asshole. By
the way, your pregnant wife is three bocks from here, safely dropped off at a cafe"

Brooklyn met the man's glare for a few seconds, then scoffed at his audacity before moving
to go back down to help and see what was going on at the hospital.

Batman it seemed, did not like being snapped at, because he was clearly on the verge of
saying something else until his eldest sons pulled him back, saying something about having
to track the Joker.

Damian still looked like he would not move, seemingly more angry than before as he shoved
past his father to the black aircraft that pulled up at the edge of the roof.

Brooklyn recalled that interaction with some anger now as she sat in the lobby, trying to quell
said anger so she wouldn't burn the poor nurse trying to do her job pulling out a few splinters
from Brook's cold hands.

She was left wondering why the Joker would target a gala? Because Bruce was there? Why
the hospital?

This was all just...a lot.

At least she, Damian, Peter, Jon, and Yelena managed to get some patrols done at night,
making sure Queen's slept peacefully while the Avengers patrolled the rest of New York, and
the Justice league and rest of the Waynes went in search of the Joker.

Damian had cursed his father for being so rude to her during patrols that night, which had
been a silly comfort in its own.

Once back in her apartment in the wee hours of the morning, Brooklyn was trying to sleep off
her exhaustion...only to think back to those three questions which she knew would haunt her
all week.....as well as Dick Grayson's odd advice of all things.

Chapter End Notes

Some of you may have caught the inspiration of Dick's advice from from quotes of
Nightwing from #112. Since Brook's old boss gave his own wise advice, I always
figured Dick would want to talk to Brooklyn eventually, try to speed things along with
cryptic messages. He can be a very silly character, but he is also very wise and caring,
and as the eldest son, has been through quite a lot.

I wanted to write that part not only as a way to do all aspects of Dick Grayson justice,
but also because I feel like Brooklyn needs different advice, even from people she
considers an enemy..if she's going to work at being her best self, not just a shadow of
Iron man in the future.
 Jeep Adventures
Chapter Notes

Little disclaimer, I don't condone the use of drugs or drinking alcohol. Party responsibly!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Brooklyn POV-

Though school had set a limit to when they could go out in search for the Joker's next move,
once the weekend came, Jon got permission from his dad to stay at Peter's for D&D night and
patrols, then Damian told his family he'd be with Jon. Yelena had 'to stay for a school
project', so for once the whole gang was together on a weekend.

They'd met up at the park near Brooklyn and Peter's apartments, and when Ned had arrived
with police leads and alleged public sightings of the Joker the last weeks, the team split up
and got to work to cover as much ground as possible.

Because they would be going to the...less than pleasant parts of Queens, or as Ned called it
'sketch central', the teens were sent out with partners, neither Brook or Damian were willing
to risk the safety of anyone for this secret little mission.

Their goal was not to engage if they found the Joker, that was too dangerous for now, but
what they could do is figure out how he was getting about undetected, find his allies, things
like that while the Justice League and Avengers were busy searching the coast for supposed
new shipments of weapons going out.

Since this would be more espionage work than actual fighting, they chose to go about his
mission as civilians to not create panic for the already nervous citizens after what happened at
the gala and hospital three days ago.

Each team had 'one fighter' and one 'spy or investigator'

Jon had immediately claimed Yelena, insisting they could take care of searching the subways
and transport pathways of the city with his x-ray vision and Yelena's ability to keep them out
of sight.

Peter had originally gone over to Brooklyn as if he wanted to team up with her, but Jon
insisted he should go with Ned so the two could use their technological skills to scan the
cameras of all the main buildings in Queens, which actually turned out to be a good idea.

That left Brooklyn and Damian with the most fitting job for their skill set, and that was to go
to the heart of the drug and crime district and investigate some of the places involving
sightings of the Joker himself.
The thing about the crime district was that it was very good at not getting caught for things
that were absolutely happening in there, which mean the Avengers or the Justice League
couldn't just go in there to arrest everyone.

This had to be an undercover job, and Brooklyn was an exceptional spy, an Damian knew the
workings of criminal towns thanks to growing up in the crime city of the world. Because they
two were...very known public figures, they'd been the only ones with required disguises.

With plan settled and a rendezvous point established, one group went off to the subway, the
other to a cafe near a company with a criminal background, and the last off to the 'black
market/illegal leisure' part of Queens.

Damian had brought Roscoe and changed the registration plate just as an added safety bonus
for their undercover job.

Brooklyn had a brown wig on, blue contacts under her shades, and because of the cold (but
also to seem the least bit like herself) she had a black hoodie and simple jeans with converse
that hid little daggers. Damian on the other hand, had taken the disguise part of this to a
minimum by wearing a bright blue hoodie he'd never get caught dead wearing, some of Jon's
casual jeans, and his shiny black shoes were replaced with some white vans the Wayne kept
frowning at.

In a way, they were both unrecognizable when they got into the car and placed the address on
Brook's burner phone. When Titus saw her settle down though, he leaned over the back seat
to nuzzle his nose on her shoulder, his tail waggling excessively.

Brook groaned miserably, but scratched the back of the dog's pointed ears the way Damian
often did.

"You brought your dog? really" she asked Damian, who merely shrugged as he put on the
black shades she'd gifted him as he said, "Titus feels I've been neglecting him, besides he'll be
a useful companion"

The dog stared at Brooklyn expectantly.

"Yeah, yeah, it's good to see you too, beast" she muttered and Titus barked as if in
acknowledgment or agreement. What actually sucked was that she WAS glad to see Titus....

Once Damian started the car with an amused half-smile, the dog leaned back safely to his
seat, and the three set out to go to the most irresponsible place in Queens they could ever
visit.

******

Brooklyn had lived in shitty places before, once on the streets of Manhattan, the other in a
rundown apartment in Brooklyn.

As soon as Brook got out of the jeep, she knew that no matter that she'd seen a lot of bad
places, she'd never been somewhere like this...no wonder people treaded with caution...
The crime town of the city was exactly that...a town. The buildings were large and worn
down for the most part, filled with graffiti and words that were even too much for Brook's
vocabulary. Everyone seemed to swagger with purpose, most high or drunk, but overall, they
were either out for clear partying purposes in groups...or sketchily moving along the
shadows.

Ned had done as much research as he could on this place, but even the image he had painted
in her mind had not been quite like this.

The air smelled of various drugs, some of the snow covered ground clearly showing signs of
splattered blood. Though there seemed to be a few rundown homes between businesses, they
were clearly barely held together in some places.

The air was eerie too, and despite the sounds of club music from the various establishments
around the circular main square, the ambiance was anything but cheery.

Luckily for Brooklyn and Damian, they were assassins, and their nerves of steel had seen
worst opponents growing up.

Damian had made sure to park Roscoe outside the criminal city, letting Titus stay behind to
guard the vehicle from looters that could be lingering nearby. Now, the brunet girl and the
boy with the hoodie were walking amongst the town, careful of their wallets and even more
so of stumbling drunks.

They eventually stood before a small building no wider than ten people. It looked like a home
or perhaps a building that had never been completed, getting squished between a drugstore
that might actually sell drugs, and an auto repair shop with too many customers, none of them
with cars.

Before the seemingly boring building were two men leaning casually on both sides of the
steps to the door, twice as wide and tall as the teens, looking even more menacing by the
leather jackets and no-bullshit expressions.

This place was a 'secret' club rumored to host many clients of notable mention. It was like a
lounge for criminals who had made a name to themselves so they could host deals without
law repercussions. Because it was meant to be a secret place, naturally many people knew
about it, and if you had the money, it was rumored you could go in for the finest alcohol and
drugs while enjoying the common pleasures of a club.

Ned had gotten them a way in, but Brooklyn had made sure they would be allowed inside to
begin with. She fished out the fake ID labeling her as Catrin Rudd, Damian's as Deacon
Mccarty, both age 22 (she didn't want to push it).

Just two normal people clearly here to have a good time.

The bouncers paid only some attention to the IDs Brooklyn had scavenged last night (she'd
made some for everyone, to Peter's horror), then pulled out the hundred bucks each that she
hoped was not a colossal waste of her latest SHIELD paycheck.
Once one of the bouncers discretely pocketed the money, she whispered the password Ned
had sworn would grant them access, "Labyrinthine"

The men did nothing, but then the wooden door between them opened to the sounds of heavy
moving metal and locks shifting out of place. The wood was just a facade, the thing was
actually made of steel.

Lovely, that should make an escape easier...

Without another word, Brooklyn and Damian locked hands and moved inside as if they'd
done this a thousand times, confident and unamused. When the door closed behind them and
they were left in a small room, Brook was almost convinced this was a mistake, but then the
wall before them opened, and the sounds of loud music finally reached their ears.

The place was...huge.

Either the buildings beside the entrance were fake, or this was built underground somehow.

The dance floor was at least the size of a football field, surrounded by little alcoves covered
in fogged glass were people sat and drank, the rooms up above on the second floor above
those alcoves had black stained glass, windows large enough to indicate maybe the patrons of
the place resided there.

The bar below them looked massive, almost taking up the entire wall as Damian and
Brooklyn made their way down the winding staircase. Everyone was drinking there, singing
or clapping as the hulking baristas served drinks with a flourish.

Brook was also quick to notice that drinks were not reserved to the bar here, but were taken
out to the dance floor by tattooed men and women in rather scandalous clothing. Not only
were they taking alcohol in those trays of theirs, but also little packets of powders.

When one of those men came up to Brook and Damian, offering drugs, both teens declined
with a shake of their heads, earning an odd look from the man.

Brook had been given alcohol as a child and had developed a strong immunity, but she was
not sure how she'd fair with drugs...and Damian was a lightweight by lack of practice.

It must've looked odd that two young party goers that chose to pay so much to have fun
would decline such things, which is why Brook pulled Damian to the dance floor full of
hundreds of dancing bodies so they could at least blend in a little better.

Damian groaned at the prospect, but even he did not argue that this was a necessary safety
measure.

This mission seriously better be worth it, they passed little raised platforms of people dancing
on silver poles, had to put up with the club music that grew louder by the second, ended up
weaving past many wandering hands, and Brooklyn was already getting annoyed by the
vibrant lights moving above them.
Neither teen complained out loud until they found a spot near the edge on one side of the
little alcoves, hoping to spot someone familiar while looking inconspicuous. There were men
and women in various forms of dress, from formal to party wear as they looked down at the
dance floor where people made out and ground on one another as if it was their own personal
amusement.

Perhaps it was, those were the dangerous people here.

Like last time she and Damian had been in a club, they took to blending in by dancing, but
this time, his touch was not foreign. Damian was still much more polite than anyone around
them, keeping his hands on her waist as she wound her own on his shoulders, moving him to
a swaying motion that was perhaps quite innocent for this type of dance.

They still stood out thought, neither of them were visibly high or drunk, and they clearly
weren't having the time of their lives.

Her brown wig was itching, but she remained from scratching it as she swayed with Damian
and searched the people beside them on those raised alcoves as slowly an inconspicuously as
possible.

"Our parents will kill us if they know we are here" Brooklyn whispered, trying to crack a
joke past the loud bass of the music.

Damian tore his gaze away from the seats to smirk at her, "Then lest hope we have something
good to show for it"

He still looked miserable, Damian hated this sorts of music and dancing, even more so when
people tried to pull them away for a dance and the two teens had been forced to step closer to
one another to make it clear that they were here together.

Still with his displeasure so clear, Brook couldn't help but laugh.

"Hey, at least here we can dance together unlike at the gala yesterday" she said, this time
more to distract herself on the theory of her emotions for Damian as she realized just how
close they were to one another, practically chest to chest.

Damian replied against her ear "This place is unsavory"

That it was, not to mention comically illegal considering they were both aspiring heroes.

"But we're here together, undercover once again, isn't that a good thing?"

Damian hummed in agreement, adding, "I suppose its not as bad as it could be"

Brooklyn was about to laugh at him again when she noticed a familiar woman dancing on a
pole before one of the tables that did not have its fogged-up glass stretched out all the way.

It was Harley Quinn.

She was wearing a rainbow colored jacket with what looked to be a leotard. Damian's
siblings had been right about her....though still looking relatively herself, if you looked
closely at the makeup, one could see the burn marks, scratches...all Brooklyn's doing.

The woman did not seem to mind them, neither did the guards with drawn up red smiles
stretching across their cheeks that guarded the table and the pole area.

One subtle signal at Damian, and he suddenly froze, her hands the only think keeping him
from stopping his dancing as another song came on.

"I did that to her" Brooklyn said remorsefully, watching as Damian quickly scanned the
woman's face.

He turned back to her, taking off his shades and her own so she could look him in the eye as
they swayed.

"You did not mean to beloved" he said softly "It wasn't your fault"

Right, only the fault of this stupid fire...which she hoped to be lucky enough not to see today.

Unfortunately the concept luck was not on their side, because from her raised platform,
Harley began looking around the crowd excitedly, inhaling the drug smoke as she hung onto
the pole to get a better look at everyone having fun below on the dance floor.

She was almost going look there way, and they weren't as far away from her as Brook
would've liked.

Would the costumes be enough for her to not recognize Damian?

"She'll spot us" Brook whispered, trying to find a way for them to move further into the
crowd, but this new song had created an impenetrable wall around them of jumping people.
Moving through them would be toppling people, which would definitely bring more attention
to the pair.

Stupid DJ...

Damian was silent for a second, then before looking away into the crowd, he whispered, "
You know, displays of affection make individuals very uncomfortable"

Was he quoting when she said...was he suggesting they....

Did Damian just suggest they kiss!? Again!

Brooklyn tried to work past the surprise, focusing on looking at their options...there were too
many guards around the perimeter, all likely mutants. If they were spotted, they'd have to
deal with them, plus the Joker wasn't even here yet, and he certainly would not show up if he
knew a Wayne was here.

She had no time to worry about anything as Harley looked to their side of the dance floor.
She seemed unconcerned, but then she made to look back with a raised brow at the area were
the two teens were trying to look inconspicuous.

Thats when Brooklyn pulled Damian to her, hands on his cheeks and only after lingering by
his lips for a second when he did not back away, did she lean upwards and kissed him
passionately.

Once their lips made contact, it felt like what Tanya mentioned, the butterflies, the happiness.

It was all there.

Brook felt his hands on her back, soothing the scars as he puled her closer.

In a way Brooklyn had been unfortunate enough to witness today on this dance floor, she
pulled him down to meet her reverent lips, and even when someone started whistling around
them, she could only focus the way their lips moved, now with much more expertise than last
time.

Their noses did not clash once, it was just pure bliss...for the sake of the mission of course.

It was when he reached one of his hands to caress the side of her neck that Brooklyn sighed
contently against his lips, and remembering Damian's reaction to when she pulled his hair last
time, she wound her hands under his hoodie and held onto the raven locks.

Damian's eyes only shut all the more at the action, kissing her faster, leaving no room for air.
The kiss was passionate, lips dancing as if they belonged together.

It was all Brooklyn imagined when Tanya described that absolute rightness, and maybe even
more.

Brook ended up keeping her eyes half open, sneaking a guilty peek at Damian they separated
for milliseconds to breathe in more air for fuel, just to make sure this wasn't a product of her
imagination.

But he was here, so was she, and as their lips continued to crash, it was like they wouldn't
stop. For the first time since what happened in Wakanda, Brook did not feel insecure or
dangerous, in fact, the feeling of his soft lips agains her own, thought they made her dizzy
and almost threaten to make her knees buckle....the kisses felt stabilizing in a way.

There was a second where Brooklyn was afraid this was some sort of joke. There was a silly
irony to the fact that the Stark knew with some level of certainty that she had feelings for
Damian, strong and scary ones that were far our of her control but perhaps not completely
unwelcome. Yet, the only time she would ever get to be this close would be during a mission
or when the situation required espionage.

It sucked that kissing Damian felt so right, but he was only doing it for the sake of not getting
caught.

Still, why would they still be kissing when Harley must've looked away? Why was he putting
up the act with such...convincing signs of emotion.
When they finally pull away, they were both breathless, and some unknown instinctual part
of her wanted to pull Damian back to her lips.

He was still leaning close, their foreheads touching as their eyes both seemed to be in a daze,
maybe because they were unwillingly inhaling drugs?

"Mahbub" he whispered sonly over the sound of the music, caressing her cheeks.

Brooklyn sighed contently, again fighting that urge to lean back in. Hearing him call her
beloved in his mother tongue was...unexpected, but incredibly pleasant.

For a moment, they just stayed like that, letting the crowds continue their shouting and
jumping around them as she kept her hands under his hoodie, caressing his hair softly, letting
herself get lost in those green eyes.

As much as she debated asking him why their..um, kiss had been like that...well they had
more pressing maters to take care of.

"Did she find out its us" Brooklyn asked, moving her hands to rest by his biceps.

Damian did not step away from their closeness as he peeked behind her head quickly.

"No, she's not looking" he said, then more seriously added, "But someone else is with her
now"

Brooklyn slowly turned in Damian's embrace, only to see the Joker sitting on the booth
before Harley Quinn. In seconds, the fogged glass screen was snapped into place, and all
Brook could see was the shadows of the Joker and some other man.

The mysterious shadow was seated on the other side of the table as he handed what looked to
be a lot of money to the Joker. In turn the Joker did not give him weapons, this was not a deal
for the Joker's product apparently.

Instead, the Joker silhouette enthusiastically handed over a stack of papers.

Brooklyn was debating trying to get closer, figure out who the Joker was doing business with,
but by the time she tried to suggest the idea to Dami, the other man stood up from the table
and moved to the wall behind them where he disappeared without a trace.

There must be a secret door on the wall then, an additional exit.

Brooklyn and Damian shared a knowing look, one perhaps one of disbelief as they both
realized that it could be true that the Joker was not the mastermind here, that he could be
working for someone like one of his cronies had suggested long ago?

It certainly was a more plausible theory now.

Soon after, the Joker pushed back the fogged screen, looking almost relieved by the
exchange. He settled down on the small booth with Harley now by his side, as they ordered
drinks while their bodyguards kept watch around them.
"We should attack" Damian whispered to her, moving his hands to her waist.

Brook frowned at the amount of guards in the establishment, "We can't"

"Why not?" he asked, just as a man moved to put a hand on Brooks shoulder, which Damian
easily slapped away without taking his eyes off her.

"Because maybe we can follow him-" Brook said, about to argue the merits of following the
idiot around or maybe calling for back up.

Turned out that whatever Brooklyn was brewing in her head was useless anyways, because
the music stopped once the DJ announced frantically that the police was here.

In seconds, everyone began to scatter, pushing their way back up the winding stairs or
towards the emergency exits. Brooklyn knew this place was often visited by the police, but
not once had they ever found anything incriminating.

Brook wonder if the cops were being payed off, or perhaps people scattered too quickly.

Brooklyn's gaze turned to the Joker and Harley, who seemed unbothered as they moved
further into their booth and disappeared though the hidden door. Both teens debated
following, but getting caught in a secret tunnel seemed like a poor choice.

So Brook and Damian could only run out through one of the side exits as quickly as they
could, hoping to catch the Joker somehow. Because of the frantic masses, they had to hold
hands to remain from being separated, but they kept them joined as they emerged from the
auto repair shop, quickly weaving through nearby alleys to get back to the Jeep.

Its a good thing they got such a head start, because the police were trying to stop as many
people as they could, and amongst the Queens police, Brooklyn spotted not only Tanya's dad
(the chief of police), but also Cassie's dad.

The last thing she needed was to be recognized by those two, so the teens abandoned their
task to track the Joker around the block and instead rushed towards the jeep as fast as they
could.

Once they were only few feet away in the empty parking space, Damian screamed, "Titus,
start the car!"

Brooklyn almost faltered in her steps.

"He can drive!?" she asked incredulously, almost frowning when she heard a distant police
whistle meant as a warning that they had been spotted.

Damian kept a hand on his hoodie as she replied, "Of course not, but he can save us time by
starting the car"

Sure enough, once they were closer to the vehicle, the engine was on, windshield wipers
getting rid of the snow, and the sound of the front door's locks opening greeted the pair. In
seconds, the two teens got in the car, and Damian backed out of the parking lot like he was in
a Fast and Furious movie.

They left Tanya's dad chasing them to no avail, but thankfully, neither had been spotted by
the time they rushed out the place.

While Damian drove them to the rendezvous spot, Brooklyn texted the team that they'd found
something.

They all waited in the park, sharing what they had learned while they waited for the police
back at the club to finish their investigation so the owners could close up for the day.

Turned out that Damian and Brooklyn weren't the only ones with luck.

Peter and Ned had found out that many of the companies and businesses near 'Sketch town'
were receiving interestingly large quantities of money from mysterious sources, either to
keep quiet of what they saw, or perhaps to help move shipments of alien weapons discretely.

The trace on that was still running, but Ned admitted that it was tricky, that he was trying to
do it as safely as possible so they wouldn't get caught.

As for Jon and Yelena, the two reported news of abandoned metro tracks showing signs of
use but where now empty as if the Joker had been caught using them. Jon said that his x-ray
vision was getting a little more under control, so he was able to see places where those tracks
had been collapsed.

When Brooklyn and Damian shared their story, albeit vaguely and leaving out the kiss part,
the team agreed that perhaps they should go investigate that secret tunnel. It was their
greatest lead after all.

Thankfully, they didn't have to send Jon flying in the snow, because Tayna was apparently
quite involved inter dad's job. So knowledgeable in fact, that when Brooklyn casually asked
how she and her dad were doing (since she recalled Tanya saying something about seeing a
movie with him), Tanya frowned, saying she was stuck in his police car as he tried to bust a
drug deal.

Brooklyn felt a twinge of guilt for doing so, but she kept texting Tanya to get updates on the
police investigation, which the cheerleader knew all about thanks to the radio in the car and
her ability to decipher the police code.

Turned out, the police managed to arrest quite a few drunk adults, but there were no
connections to the drugs being linked to the club, much less when no one admitted where the
got the drugs from and the club had 'been closed for lighting upgrades'.

It wasn't until after the teens went to Delmar's for food, and to a nearby market to get Titus
something to eat as well, that the cops left the scene and the club did indeed close for the day
to avoid suspicion.
It was with the darkness of the night that the five teens snuck into the club through the air
vents, with Ned back home ready to help through their coms should they need it. Though Jon
and Peter were still getting used to the 'espionage' part of the job, their superhuman abilities
surely helped in their stealth as they dropped down from the vent into the eerily quiet dance
floor.

Ned had inconspicuously cut the power in various blocks on eastern Queens to get rid of
camera footage or any other traps left for unwanted visitors. Honestly, Brooklyn was
sometimes seriously afraid of how skilled Ned was at all this stuff.

SHIELD would be fools not to hire him in the future.

With Brooklyn and Damian silently leading the group, Jon found the hidden mechanism of
the wall in the Joker's booth. Turned out, behind the seemingly normal wall, was a dark
tunnel that may have been lit if the power wasn't out at the moment.

Despite Jon's complaints that this could end very badly, the five of them set out, with
Brooklyn lighting the way with a good old fashioned flashlight since her gauntlets and watch
tended to get a little faulty thanks to her vibranium bracelets.

Jon and Peter took the back in case they heard or saw something the others could not. With
that, they went down the thin hallway that was not warmed against the cold with the winter
weather, all dressed in black..looking like criminals up to no good. At least she didn't have
the wig and contacts on anymore.

As she walked beside Damian, Brook felt that they really needed to talk about what happened
back at the dance floor, maybe not on what she actually wanted to talk about, but at least
make sure all was well between them.

Though Brooklyn had realized she quite enjoyed the kiss...well, kisses, she wanted to make
sure there would be no weirdness between them. First and foremost, their friendship was the
most important thing to her.

Using the assassin language so the teens with superheating could not understand, Brooklyn
said, "Sorry about the kiss, I know it must've been uncomfortable for you"

Damian took one peek behind them to make sure Yelena was far enough away, which she
was.

"We've kissed before" Damian replied in code, "I am not bothered by what happened"

Ok, good....great.

Brook couldn't help but wonder if Dami had felt it too, that raw happiness, the tangle of
emotions behind the kiss. Likely not, but Brooklyn could hardly get to thinking of other
things at the moment.

"Were you bothered by it? It was quite...long" the Wayne said, keeping his gaze from her own
as he scanned the walls for secret doors.
Well, a long kiss certainly was one way to describe what happened.

"Of course not, it was a good way to remain hidden from view" Brooklyn noted, pushing the
black hood closer to her face"I had no idea you remembered my espionage advice from
months ago"

Damian scoffed, "Of course I remember it"

Did he mean their first kiss or the silly but effective way to avoid being spotted?

"What are you guys talking about?" Jon asked, suddenly coming between them, arms on their
shoulders, with Damian immediately shrugging away from the physical contact.

In sync, Brook and Damian shouted back rather guiltily, "Nothing!" and thankfully they were
spared from being questioned when the tunnel before them expanded to a room, full of chairs
and a ramp that led up to the surface no doubt.

Thankfully, there was no one in there.

Yelena went to investigate, mentioning there were wheel marks on the dusty floor that
indicated a car had left recently.

The circular room was basic, concrete walls, a few lanterns, some chairs and a table. Upon
further investigating, there was nothing of value, no weapons or indications of the Joker's
presence. They all searched the room thoroughly for more hidden rooms, but only came up
with cabinets of office supplies to explore.

It all seemed rather useless, that is until Brooklyn found a small wax seal in the locked
cabinet of the main desk. Aside from the lock, it was hidden in a drawer under a false surface.

Brook knew that symbol well...too well.

"Guys..." she whispered, and soon the team crowded around her so they could see the wax
seal with an evident hourglass. The red of the ink stuck to its ridges was not ink at all....Jon
confirmed it was actually blood.

They all stood there in silence for a few seconds. Brooklyn used that terrifying moment to
think back to the figure the Joker had been speaking to, wondering if it truly did look like the
foggy image of Ivan she still had in her mind.

The Red Room WAS involved in this mess after all!?

There was a deal going on between him and the Joker, it had to be...question was, what to do
with that information now that they had no other leads?

*******

Damian POV-
Returning home after a long day should be a relaxing action, only it was never as much at the
Wayne manor, especially when his siblings were watching TV in the living room, their gazes
snapping to the teen in an instant.

Damian tried to seem aloof as he and Titus made their way to the stairs, with him clutching
not only his backpack butt he duffle bag with the disguises he'd used today.

Even with his lack greeting, that did not stop Dick from rushing over to him, summersaulting
over the couch to stand before Damian with a shit eating grin.

"Why are you home so late?"

Damian sighed, "Jon and I had school work to do aside from patrols. Is that a crime?"

Dick shook his head, placing a hand on Damian's arm. I truth, the teen had been a fool for
saying that last part considering he'd gone to a club in one of the most dangerous parts of
Queens as an underage teen, outran the police, then followed a secret tunnel revealing signs
of Ivan the Great.

Crime didn't even cut what he'd been up to today.

Of course, Grayson didn't have to know that.

"Nah, I get it. You have to make sure there is no funny business at Midtown after what
happened with the Joker. It's very responsible of you D, but I can't help that you need to relax
and just hang out with people sometimes. You work too hard"

Damian almost argued that he HAD been out with a group of individuals he considered his
teammates. Again, his nosy siblings did not need to know that either, especially as Dick
began eyeing Damian's black duffle bag mysteriously.

"I'm back before curfew, is this little interrogation going anywhere important or can I go to
bed?" Damian asked impatiently, with Titus barking out a warning beside him.

Dick quickly moved away with hands raised, which was Todd's stupid chance to smirk from
his place at the couch, waving a chicken wing in the air.

"Ah, let the demon go to sleep Dick, can't you see he's just a grumpy boy in dire need of a
good night kiss?"

Damian tried to remain calm, to not recall what had happened at the club, the feeling of
Brooklyn's lips on his own, her hands in his hair.

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

They'd kissed...

Unable to looks his siblings in the eye, he quickly grabbed a nearby candle holder and threw
it in Jason's general direction before stomping upstairs back to his room. He heard Todd's
laughter, but ignored it and the wishes for a pleasant sleep as he took the stairs by twos.
Half an hour later, Damian laid in bed still thinking about what had happened today with
Brooklyn, even when the more pressing matter in his mind should've been Ivan's possible
presence at the club, meaning he was in the country.

He almost hated himself for having gotten so lost in the kiss when they were on a mission.

Had his beloved intensified the kiss because she felt something, or just for the mere
performance? Had she asked about it later to make him feel better, or because she was
curious as well?

It was a stupid thought, because she liked Peter, and the spider-boy been standing around her
more, smiling more, even hugging her after classes. Damian had noticed a change in
Parker...and he'd heard Peter and Ned whispering during P.E. yesterday...talking about Peter's
very possible CRUSH on Brooklyn.

It felt like a slap to the face remembering that and today's kiss at the same time...

Damian couldn't help but also think about when he drove Brook home earlier while Jon and
Peter took to flying and swinging back to the apartments. No doubt Jon's planning since he
was now aware of Damian's true emotions.

"So you're not upset about what happened?" Brooklyn had asked once they arrived before her
gate, letting Titus rest on her lap for a little longer.

Titus had never been one for cuddling, yet now, it was like the dog was loosing his mind just
as much as Damian as.

Was Damian upset about what happened? No...he was...agitated by the memory.

"Of course not, beloved. Are you?" he'd asked back, earning a chuckle from Brooklyn as she
placed her coat and beret on as best she could around Titus' large frame.

"No. Not at all. I just hope you weren't scared I would accidentally burn you" she'd replied,
squeezing his free hand . She made to retrieve it, as if thinking it might indeed be dangerous,
but Damian caught her hand between his own.

Despite his mix of emotions on their kiss, he knew for certain that he felt upset when Brook
doubted herself like this, that she saw herself as a threat, not the beloved girl he knew.

So he placed her palm above his own and confidently said, "Show me what you learned, let
me see your flames"

Brooklyn panicked, "Are you crazy! I could burn you!"

Damian knew she wouldn't, it was illogical, but some part of him still knew it would not
happen.

So he rubbed his thumbs on her palms, looking at her as he touched the thin vibranium
bracelet on her wrist, the one that made her cold all the time now. He waited until Brooklyn
calmed, as she instructed GIL in her watch to remove the thing.
With a click, the bracelet came off and her hand began shaking.

Titus was stirred by the movement, staring at Damian and Brooklyn as if he was waiting for
an explanation.

"Show me, don't be afraid. Just this once, stop being afraid of it and show me" he whispered.

Brooklyn sighed, closing her eyes in concentration as she hovered her hand above his own,
brows straining together as a little bit of warmth filled the car, followed by little sparks in her
hands....then a small flame that barely covered her palm.

Damian stared at it, noting its brightness, its warmth. Even Titus did not perceive it as a
threat, he just laid back down on Brook's lap to be closer to the flame's warmth.

Just as quick as it came, Brooklyn snapped the bracelet back on, eyes wide as she inspected
the car, then Daman and Titus, and finally her unburnt palm.

"Impeccable control, beloved" Damian whispered, for some reason out of breath after the
display.

She chuckled nervously, "I wouldn't call that control, but its not always that easy"

"How come it was easy now? Because of the weather?" he pondered, only for Brooklyn to
shake her head, staring down at Titus on her lap as she whispered, "No. Because you were
here with me"

The two remained silent for a few seconds as Damian tried to decipher what about him made
it easier for her to control the fire.

"Well, call me if something happens. If that was Ivan today, then he might try something"
Damian had said, trying to focus on the mission, on all that happened instead of looking at
her alluring lips...not that he found them alluring of course, that would be...impolite to say
about his best friend.

Brooklyn sighed, beholding the snow outside the window, "I'll stay awake doing some
research with Yelena. So don't worry I'll be fine"

Before leaving the car, Brooklyn moved to hug him, and when they were locked in the close
embrace, some part of Damian was commanding him to lean just a little closer, a voice he
ignored and reprimanded as Brook left the car with a smile, the large gates closing behind
her.

What was Damian supposed to do now ? How long could he keep denying to himself that the
kiss, actually both of them, had been far beyond the aloofness which he tried to remember
them by.

Why was life so fucking complicated sometimes!?

Chapter End Notes

Ahhhh! It happened! Damian sure did suggest quite a good idea at the club didn't he?
And now they are both coming terms with their emotions! *sheds prideful tears* *also
wants to slap them in the head for being so stubborn and stupid*.

Hope you're enjoying the story so far! Remember that you are loved, cared for, and you
matter. Hope you enjoy the chapters to come!
 Peter's Emotions

Brooklyn POV-

Some part of Brooklyn was wondering how yesterday had gone by without such at hitch.

Sure, they barely came out with any valuable leads, and before coming to the compound, the
team had checked all the other tunnels connected to the club, only to find they led up to
alleys or parking lots with no cameras.

Perfect ways to escape.

Now at the compound, Brook had just finished ballet practice with her sestras and after
letting Nat into a hint that Ivan may be in the country, the three had gotten busy pilling
laptops and devices to try and find the Red Room or Ivan.

As always, they'd had very unsuccessful results so far.

She almost felt like combusting into flames by how frustrated she was, and apparently she
looked like it too, because Nat handed her some cold water and said, "Careful kid, if you start
spotting flames and burn Steve's artwork on the walls, he'll bring out his puppy dog eyes and
we'll all feel guilty for days"

Considering Natasha was not one to usually sugarcoat things, that was an outright nice way
of saying control your emotions before you burn something.

"Natasha's clear weakness when it comes to the Captain aside, I'm not saying you should use
the fire, but will you ever show anyone what it looks like? You haven't shown any of us since
you returned from the mutant school" Yelena said, proceeding by punching her keyboard
when her tracing program failed.

That was true, Steve had tried to get Brook to try using her fire this morning during training
when she arrived. Brooklyn had outright refused to, not just because she felt slightly mentally
unstable with all the Ivan and Damian kissing stuff that was going on, but because she'd
NEVER use those powers again.

When Damian had asked her to see them yesterday, she didn't know why, but it felt like being
in a secure bunker where she would not explode. The fear of hurting Damian and even Titus
was still there...but it had been quelled by the absolute sureness in which he still did not move
away from her no matter what.

It was her best friend who had seen her abilities, likely the last one to ever witness them too.

"Unknown space magic is not something I want to tamper with, Yelena" Brooklyn said,
staring down at her vibranium bracelets from Shuri that were actually doing a great job
always cooling her body, in fact, she was almost getting used to them, "Until it can be
removed, I won't activate it anymore"
Nat frowned, "Perhaps one day you'll need to"

Brooklyn stared at the sestra seated before her on the floor. Perhaps Natasha had been around
so many aliens, super-humans, and such to be open to the idea that this fire was just another
weapon in Brook's arsenal.

Sure, Wanda had learned t control her own strange magic, but how many had suffered and
gotten hurt or killed before she did? It was no judgment on Wanda of course, the woman may
be distant but she WAS trying to help.

In fact, though Wanda often texted Brooklyn advice to keep powers at bay, she'd kept her
distance from the Stark. Since her arrival yesterday, it was painfully obvious how Wanda had
fought to keep her distance.

Unlike the sometimes weary Avengers, Wanda's fear was not of Brooklyn's fire...but of the
memories her brain held. Professor Xavier had managed to not show any signs of being
bothered by them, but it seemed Wanda was not quite ok with them yet.

It was fine, an understandable emotion...it just made her realize all the more now lucky she
was to have Damian around, to have a friend who saw all that and never ran away or kept his
distance.

"My skills are enough" Brooklyn argued, "I grow stronger each day, and will eventually
become an Avenger without the need of superhuman abilities like you Natasha. I'm fine with
that"

"Thats true" Yelena said, pushing the hoodie of her jacket back as she smirked Nat's way with
her blood hair sticking out in all directions, "There are very few people who can judo Nat's
ass"

Brooklyn tried and failed to hold back her laughter.

Nat had turned serious, but in that playful way that made the two teens fear of being attacked
into a tickle fit rather than a precise blade to the heart.

"I'm Natasha Romanoff" she clarified, "nobody judos my ass"

That was enough for the usually serious Yelena to fall to the ground in a fit of laughter. It was
then that Natasha noticed then that the Midtown jacket their sestra had was not exactly her
own. Brooklyn had been trying to ignore brining up the embroidered 'Kent' in the back of the
football jacket for the sake of sparing Yelena from embarrassment.

Natasha had no such reservations.

Perhaps it was payback for earlier when Grandpa Steve came in the room while they were
dancing, offering cookies he'd made with Sam earlier. When he'd come in, Brooklyn and
Yelena had made kissy faces at Nat when Steve brought her in for a hug, praising her
dancing.
They really should've kept their amusement to themselves, Natasha forgets nothing, and her
vengeance is ruthless and unexpected...always.

"I see you've moved on from hating a certain kryptonian to wearing his clothes" Nat said
causally, turning back to her computer with a smirk that was lit up by the blue light of the
screen.

Brooklyn brought her blanket closer to her body, if only to hide her smile within its warmth.

Yelena's ears brightened a few shades as she brought the jacket folds closer to her body.

"He merely gave it to me when he was worried my human body couldn't take the cold, idiot
doesn't know how Russian winters are...I just...don't think about him enough to remember to
give it back yet"

"Oh yeah? What's your excuse for wearing it now?" Brooklyn added, unable to keep from the
amusement.

Yelena glared her way, "You really want to ask that? Because I know a thing or two about
you from school that Natasha will find very interesting"

She wouldn't expose her friendship with a Wayne?! Would she?

Declaring defeat, Brooklyn raised her arms in surrender, going back to the hacked NASA
satellites on her screen.

"Speaking of school" Natasha said causally, "How has that Wayne been? The one from the
League of Assassins, any visible threat from him? Steve told me he'd been authorized to
patrol around Queens so you two must see him from time to time"

Both Brook and Yelena went silent for a few seconds, unsure what to say.

Sure, Yelena knew that she and Damian were no longer fighting, that they were friends in a
sense, but even she did to know the extent of how things were. No one could know.

Neither could admit to spending time with Robin, with a Wayne, so they merely shrugged as
Brooklyn added with fake boredom, "That Wayne is no threat, and he's a family enemy, so
he's not my problem"

Yelena nodded, "Plus if we go by our Red Room background, the League have always been
our enemies, he's as good as hated in our minds"

Nat hummed in acknowledgment, clicking away on her laptop as she added, "I would think
that would make it an even greater reason to keep an eye on him for suspicious activity. But I
guess we can't worry about everything all the time, right girls?"

Brooklyn nodded in silence, and was suddenly grateful when Peter stepped inside the room,
clad in his spider-suit, mask in hand as he greeted all of them shyly, taking in all the
equipment and mess of cables with some interest until he clearly beheld the illegal hacking
within Yelena's screen.
His chocolate brown eyes turned to her own as Peter sat by her side with a big smile.

"Hey Brook! I just came to get you for our evaluation training" he said enthusiastically,
turning to Yelena to add, "and Mr. Fury says you'll be doing some of your own after!
Congrats Yelena!"

The fact that Yelena was allowed into a SHIELD eval meant that not only was she doing
great progress, but that perhaps some day she'd be cleared for patrols she wouldn't have to
sneak into.

Not only was this good for the blonde for reasons of growth and redemption, but also for the
secret team because she'd be able to join them easier for the little excursions they always
found themselves in.

With newfound excitement, Yelena and Brook left their depressing work of lack of results,
standing up and quickly changing out of their sweaters and ballet clothes to their black body
suits for SHIELD training.

This particular test was to make sure Brook and Peter had improved on their teamwork,
something the Stark was very confident in thanks to their new team. Yelena would likely be
in another part of the room proving she no longer went for the kill in a fight, something that
the teen had improved at immensely too.

The team had made them all stronger after all.

When Peter shyly offered to walk with her, offering one of his hands, Brooklyn had not clue
what to make of the unusual gesture, but she took his hand and the three teens bid Natasha
farewell as they rushed down the halls of the compound, ignoring the smiles of the agents
passing by as they raced to the training room.

They'd gotten an earful for running from Fury, but it had been worth it for some fun...

Now to show how much they'd improved!

*********

Natasha POV-

Perhaps Nat shouldn't meddle in things that were quite honestly not her business.

Yet, Brooklyn was like a sister, family, and Natasha couldn't help but worry for the girl,
especially after what she'd witnessed that morning after training during what Tony liked to
call 'leisure hours'.

Nat had been about to grab a few sacks when she saw Brooklyn was already there, angrily
digging into a bowl of cereal as she mumbled questions to herself, so lost in her own
troubling thoughts that when the teen got up to leave, she ran straight into a wall.

Though amusing, the more interesting part of that moment had been when Brooklyn cursed
the Wayne softly before heading down the hall to her room.
Natasha had not forgotten what she'd seen that day of the high school dance, actually found it
quite difficult to not do further research of her own some days. But she was packed with
missions most days, and it would be a different kind of privacy breach to follow Brooklyn
around all day for the sake of selfish questions needing answers.

Had something happened? Was Brook trying to work out her very obvious affection for the
Wayne?

Should Nat try to help, more importantly, could she?

Seated with the rest of the Avengers up at the lounge in the room above the training arena, the
adults looked down a the teens as they went thought their progress checkpoint, being
evaluated by Fury for the next stage of their Avengers training.

Some things Nat noticed rather quickly were that Brook did not chance taking off he
vibranium bracelets, even if it meant giving up her ability to use those gauntlets of hers
because the cold would interfere with the machines temperature.

She still kept a stun gun and daggers on as weapons, while Peter kept to his webs. The two
were set to work out a simulation battles complete with enemies and civilians. The job was
simple, work together, incapacitate the enemies, save the civilians, don't 'die'.

Beside Nat, Pepper was smiling down in excitement with Tony by her side bragging about his
daughter and prodigy. Steve sat down on the couch to the left with Sam and Rhodey who'd
been the ones to drag enough food for everyone, and were currently more interested in eating
than watching the prep for the test.

Wanda and Vision were on the couch to the right, snuggled close to one another while Clint
made sure poor innocent Vision 'kept his hands somewhere appropriate'. At least Scott didn't
mind sitting next to a lovey dover couple, not when he was too busy cheering on the two
teens who could not hear him or had any idea the Avengers were even watching.

Once the lights dimmed, the holograms came on, and the fight started, Natasha was honestly
incredibly impressed, and that did not happen very often...

Everyone watched as the two teens worked in sync, with Brooklyn shouting orders while
Peter followed them and took to keeping an eye on her back with his superpowers. Not only
was Brook much better at her teamwork skills, but Peter's attacks (mostly of self defense)
were much better now, the kid was finally willing to throw punches!

Nat knew progress like that, ones that went against instinct were not easy to achieve in such a
short amount of time, so she couldn't help but wonder how those two had improved so much
with only training and few patrols.

Either these kids were on steroids, or the next generation were really going above and
beyond.

After a while of watching with scrutiny, it was actually Sam that started on the topic of
Brooklyn's crush on Peter.
Nat knew it was bullshit, since she'd seen Brooklyn interacting with that Wayne, but then
they all noticed something that...something that wasn't there before.

The way Peter was looking at Brooklyn as she helped him fight off the holographic drones
around him....he was looking at her with hearts in his eyes. Parker was looking at her with
admiration once their round ended, and when he took of his mask, Peter was blushing, and
Nat knew it wasn't from exhaustion.

It usually took more for the kid to get tired.

Oh, fuck no...

While everyone was busy leaning on the glass, pointing at the poor teenage boy who flushed
bright red when his hand made contact with Brooklyn's and stuttered "Thank you" and "You
look really pretty, even with the sweat!" kind of panicked phrases, Nat, Pepper, Tony, and
Steve were the only respectable people in the room who remained sitting....well Tony wasn't
exactly respectable.

"NOOOOO! Parker has a crush on my daughter, I'm too young for this! Next thing you know,
there will be little Peters and Brooklyns around here!" Tony groaned as he sank on the couch,
"I'm gonna give that kid a warning he never saw coming once this test is over!"

Beside him, Pepper did not seem amused at all, in fact, she scoffed as if the idea of those two
being together like it was a joke.

Weird....

Instead of trying to see past the wall of nosy Avengers, Nat chose to turn her gaze to the TV,
where news from Gotham showed Batman and all his sidekicks stopping a group of criminals
from blowing up a building.

It didn't take long for Tony to notice and begin ranting about how much he hates that angry
and self-absorbed bat and his youngest son, the 'little kid' that makes his daughter miserable
at school.

Nat couldn't help but recall the day at the school where she'd seen the two teens dancing,
smiling, perhaps even almost kissing...sure miserable.

When Natasha chose to turn away from the TV so she'd stop smiling at the memory, she
noticed Pepper with that same expression, looking fondly at Robin/ Damian Wayne, seeming
to disagree with Tony's words.

They two women locked eyes, and it was then that Nat knew that somehow....Pepper was
aware as well. A sort of understanding passed between them, built by shock and perhaps
some relief to not be alone with this secret.

But how did Pepper of all people have her suspicions? Had Brooklyn was something to her
mom about this?
What was even more surprising was when the two women realized Steve was staring at them
as well as the TV. He too seemed to have no qualms looking from the TV, then to Brooklyn
down below.

While Tony whined over the rapid passage of time and loss of kid-like innocence from his
two teens, Steve moved to sit beside Nat. The three of them shared an understanding series of
looks, subtly looking at one another over and over until Nat grew tired of it and stood up
from the couch.

When the rest of the Avengers noticed what Tony was complaining about on the screen, no
one else seemed to show any knowing or pleasant emotion towards the Wayne, treating him
like a stranger.

So Nat excused herself to get 'more snacks', she was glad to see when Steve and Pepper
offered to help while everyone had their fun discussing what they thought would be a sure
romance between Peter and Brooklyn in the future.

Once the adults made it out to the hall, Pepper grabbed a hold of both Nat's and Steve's arms,
pulling them to her office frantically, with Steve closing the door behind them as gently as he
could.

For a second, no one said anything....just stared at one another with disbelieving smiles.

It was Nat that dared to ask, "How do you guys know?"

Pepper chuckled, running her hands nervously on her tight fitting blue dress as she looked to
the laptop on her desk. Sheepishly the woman confessed to having spied on the two, who had
been at Brooklyn's home not long ago together, getting along, and even with a dog.

But Brooklyn hated dogs....once an agent had brought one to the compound and Brook had
almost tackled it outside...granted that was shortly after they discovered she was a Stark.

Pepper sat on her desk, going into great detail about how the two had cooked together,
seemed to protect one another, looking at peace as if cuddling on Brook's couch was the most
normal thing in the world.

Nat couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, she actually had to grab a hold of an equally
stunned Steve just to stay upright. The two had eventually needed to sit on a nearby couch as
Pepper told them that those two teens had actually burned the Stark's dance invitations.

Thats when Nat got a chance to share how she knew about whatever was going on between
the Stark and Wayne, which was more than she'd realized.

Natasha told them about what she'd witnessed at the school dance, how the two 'enemies' had
danced to their hearts content like nothing in the world existed between them. She even
watched Pepper go wide eyed when she mentioned almost seeing them kiss that night.

Turning to Steve, the two women waited for him to come out of his confusion as he told them
of the time spent in Wakanda. He'd spoken of his experience with a lot more shame, as if he
was hesitant of revealing the secret because it was not his to share. Steve did not sound nearly
as eager to share gossip as he shared the memories of the battle that had ended up triggering
Brooklyn's abilities.

Now that Nat thought about it, no one had asked any questions as to why Brook was fighting
for Wakanda, or why a Wayne and Kent stood with Yelena as they watched the girl be locked
away.

According to Steve's first hand experience, the Wayne and Stark had fought side by side that
day, with such coordination and efficiency that it would make her evaluation with Peter look
lesser than.

It was as if they had been fighting together all their lives.

Then, when Brooklyn was hit, Steve had barely noticed that the Wayne was amongst the first
to rush to her side, then preceded to huddle her close, keeping anyone (even Steve and the
king of Wakanda) from touching Brook.

Even when her flames came to life, the teen had been reluctant to let go, he actually had to be
pulled away and dragged back as he screamed for her.

The three adults sat there for a second, trying to process everything they found out, which
was more than they had known to be happening before today.

That absolute trust, the bond they had....for an assassin, it was incredibly hard to surrender to,
especially Brooklyn who'd only grown up with Ivan's teachings and had just begun to stray
from them.

It honestly felt like Nat stood before a great mystery, one the three adults decided to not only
keep a secret, but also investigate more on...see what secrets Brooklyn was keeping from
them. They wouldn't invade her privacy further though, Steve insisted on that. They would
just keep an eye and ear open to any new information.

"Its a shame Tony is so blinded by his hate of the Waynes, its no wonder Brooklyn is keeping
secrets from us" Steve pondered sadly, pulling Nat into a side hug on the couch.

Pepper hummed in agreement, "I actually spent an afternoon with the two of them, I can't
explain it, but there is something special about them. I only want watch best for my daughter,
and somehow breaking a centuries old rivalry between families seems to be the way to do
that. I never thought I'd say that...."

"Whatever it is, I think Brooklyn thinks we will all be against it, with good reason. That boy
is a league assassin, a vigilante of Gotham...he's not exactly what most fo us would consider a
worthy boy for our Brook. But just as I see how much she has changed, I think that boy
might be as well, they may be very good for one another"

Steve smiled beside her, saying softly, "I guess love can come in all shapes and
circumstances. I for one am happy for her if she is"
Looking up at his ocean blue eyes, Natasha knew affection was a tricky thing, but perhaps the
only thing that could truly help a stubborn person change for the better...

It was with that secret between them that they all went back to the observation room, and
when Sam complained about the lack of snacks, the three had been forced to say their
appetites had vanished on the way.

Now Nat focused on one of the main problems in hand as she sat down beside Steve, staring
down at the two teens that had just started the chitauri simulation.

Darn it Parker, why did he have to make all of this more complicated?
 Winter Break
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Midtown High was still a very strange place, one full of the weirdest traditions.

Today was the last day before winter break, and as per tradition, the school let the students
host a 'get together' after hours. In a way, the promise of the semesterly party seemed to be
the only thing motivating the tired and panicked students through the final week of testing.

Now, standing before her locker, Brooklyn too sighed in relief that the week was over at last.
None of her tests had given her pause, and she was certain she'd passed the half of the school
year with perfect marks, but she was exhausted beyond belief....enough so that a party almost
seemed unthinkable.

But in a way...she and her friends had earned it.

Though still busy with patrols (and company work in Damian and Brooklyn's case), she and
the others had studied day and night for these exams. Everyone had helped one another study,
even Harry had put his animosity for Damian aside so the Wayne could help the brunet with
math and latin.

Peter, Brook, and Jon had stayed in her apartment last night studying till sunrise for their
Spanish exam, and Harry had been there too for some chemistry studying as well between lab
partners.

Damian, Harry, and Tanya had actually taken to reviewing their Latin at the lunch table,
which mostly consisted of Damian actually performing perfect sentences while the other two
struggled to scramble proper words in return. Sometimes, Damian would hit Harry in the
head with a celery stick until Harry produced proper sentences.

It looked cruel...but it worked.

Tanya and Brook had actually met two days ago, staying at the cheerleader's favorite coffee
shop till midnight to go over all the books they had read in literature, with MJ as their very
knowable mentor, letting Brook in on the book she'd missed because of her late admission
into the year.

As for History, Brooklyn and Damian had been planning to meet up to study, using it as an
excuse to just be themselves for a while. Unfortunately, both their families had been at home
more often with their missions lessening, so they'd had to quiz one another during patrols,
during a mission, or after school.
Brooklyn had even been able to help Harley with a few classes too, staying up with him via
video call some nights to help him with his German and basic math. Her kid brother was very
smart though, he barely needed the assistance, so it became a chance for the two to talk and
get to know one another better.

Once the announcement from the office declared test results were ready, Brooklyn barely had
time to look for her friends as the stampede of students rushed over to the tables before the
office. Brook had to wait patiently a few minutes until an office lady handed over her
envelope of test results.

As promised, Brooklyn went over to Peter's locker where her friends slowly gathered,
Damian and MJ being the last ones to come, clutching their own letters in hand.

Despite the exhaustion, and the animosity between Harry and Damian, they all gathered in a
circle, and as one opened their envelopes to reveal the grades within.

The first to jump up in excitement was Tanya as she shouted, "I passed all my classes! Oh my
god! Yes! Just wait till I shown mom and dad, they'll definitely buy me those concert tickets
and next year around this time, we'll all be having the time of our lives watching Green Day!
Raven's gonna love it!"

Damian rolled his eyes at the mention of Raven, but had not objected to being included into
the plan to see a concert. Brooklyn was almost proud at him for it.

The next to stray from the circle to jump in place was Harry, who took off his letterman
jacket so he could swing his paper in the air with a loud whoop!

"I got a B- in Latin! The impossible has happened, bow down to me and my great success!"
Harry yelled, only to be interrupted by Peter, who put a hand on his arm, pointing at Damian.

The message was clear, and even with his disgust, Harry had no choice but to say to him, "I
suppose our group reviews were a contributing factor to my victory, Wayne. Thank you for
being useful for once"

Damian looked away from his paper, frowning at Harry.

"I suppose I have educated the impossible student, another testament to my superiority. I
accept your recognition" he said, and Brooklyn subtly hit his shoulder as she fought the smirk
from her face.

Boys...so hard to say thank you and you're welcome.

Before Damian and Harry could go at it, Jon leaned over to look at Yelena's paper, and the
two seemed to share a private smile at their passing grades. Those two had stayed at the
library quite a lot recently...and Brooklyn couldn't help but wonder if Yelena was actually
having better luck with understanding and dealing with emotions than Brook was, even when
the blonde had been in the Red Room longer.
It was after Ned went to hug MJ over their engineering grade that Peter came over, and
seeing as she and Damian were competing with him for the position of valedictorian, the
three placed their papers between one another.

All A+.

It seemed that this would not be the semester one of them would get ahead of the others...

Pete rushed over to Brook, surprising her when he hugged her tight. She looked over to
Damian then, only to see he'd gone back to yell at Jon for accidentally wearing his shirt
backwards.

Despite the joy of their good grades, the group looked about ready to collapse, Brooklyn had
not even bothered changing out of pjs this morning, Ned was wearing two different colored
shoes, and Tanya's make-up had been poorly done this morning, looking more like the Joker's
brand look. Poor MJ had a stack of 30 books almost half as tall as she was, the price to pay
for all her reading habits.

They all decided to go back home, rest, get ready for the party tonight that everyone who'd
been at the school prior to this year swore was well worth it, the perfect way to end the
semester.

Actually, it was Tanya who convinced the doubtful ex-assassins of the party, saying it was
tradition that the school let the students stay till midnight, with all classrooms were locked of
course, but the gym and main hallways were open for dancing and partying.

Seniors apparently focused on leaving pranks for the teachers to find later, something that
sounded barbaric, but the cheerleader assured it was actually fun to watch.

Around 7pm when Brooklyn arrived with her team, she realized what Tanya meant.

Her, Damian, Peter, Jon, Ned and Yelena had been at the school once after hours, swallowed
in darkness an uncertainty as they fought to stopped a bomb from killing them all. That day,
the school had looked like a tomb, a castle of night and fear around very corner.

Now, the place was warm, and welcoming.

Students had begun engaging in robot fights in the halls, and loud music and lights from the
auditorium shone all over the place. Some halls are reserved for card games or D&D, others
had movies projected on hung white bed-sheets were couples and friends could huddle in
blankets of their own to watch.

Football players were having a friendly game outside, which is where Jon and Harry were
immediately dragged off to, and someone had used the area under the main staircase to sneak
alcohol to all students who wished for it.

There were no adults, cameras, no form of authoritative command...and it somehow turned

into an organized chaos that unlike clubs or Flash's Halloween party...seemed kind of nice.
The team had allowed themselves the break under Jon's and Ned's advice that they should
just be teens for once. They'd been stopping crime all over Queens, working on school, and
Damian and Brooklyn had been given more company work responsibilities, not to mention
she and Peter now had more SHIELD duties as well.

It was a 'Normal Teen Night Off' then.

It wasn't long for everyone to find an activity they wanted to engage in. Just as Jon left,
Tanya and Yelena had gone over to watch the football scrimmage with alcohol-filled cups in
hand. Ned, Peter, and MJ said that they always went to play D&D, so thats where they went.

Brooklyn was actually glad to see her little brother there as well, no alcohol in hand.

When he caught her eye in the distance after Brook's friends went to join him, she felt the
need to remind him to be responsible, so she pointed at the alcohol bar as shook her finger in
warning.

Thankfully, Brooklyn had been right when she introduced Harley as the 'good' Stark of the
family. The kid was just glad to have passed all his classes, sitting next to that girl he liked
from the yule dance, trading nerdy secrets with his jacket over her shoulders.

Harley sent her a sweet smile, nodding in understanding before going back to the game
before the giant table at the end of the hall.

Since Brook didn't feel like playing or watching any games, and neither did Damian, the two
snuck to the floor level of the school for a nice stroll.

Even though the lights were on, there were no students down there, but the sounds of music,
talking, and laugher could still be heard from up above like echos underwater.

The two were casually reminiscing on the tracking of Ivan so far, upset that they had some
leads right now, but nothing concrete. Perhaps the winter break would provide more time for
such a large investigation.

Even if they both had duties to attend to...they promised to make time to talk every night
without fail, and Brooklyn found that to be a true treasure indeed.

It was when they two passed by another inconspicuous room that she noticed light was
coming from inside.

Brook had rarely been to this part of the school, actually, just once to drop off volleyballs
after P.E. Curious, Brooklyn broke her stride and leaned over the door's small window to see
the light was coming from small bulbs hung over what looked to be canvases, like they were
on display.

"Didn't you mention you were in the art club?" Brooklyn asked over her shoulder, to which
Damian hummed in agreement, and after a second of silence, he seemed panicked when
Brook reached for a pin in her hair to unlock the door.
In seconds, Dami had a hold of her shoulder, face panicked as he said, "What are you doing?
We're not allowed in there"

She smirked, turning back to the lock.

"I want to see your art" Brook replied, finding she truly was curious to see the extent of
Damian's abilities after the amazing sketch he gave her once, the one she started at everyday
when she walked into her room.

It took a few seconds, but it was relatively easy, lock picking was all about the tumblers...

When the door swung open, Brooklyn looked up from her position kneeling before the door,
smiling up at her best friend.

"If its too private we don't have to go in, but I think its a shame your own best friend wont get
to see your work before it all gets stored away" she said, being completely honest about
respecting his wishes.

Damian stared at the mostly darkened room, save for the small rays of light on the canvases
facing away from them. He seemed indifferent about the idea, but reached out a hand for her
to take, and led her inside the room hesitantly.

"This was all for the end of the semester 'Art Gallery' exhibit between club members"
Damian said, pointing at the canvases around them, none of them signed but of relatively
good skill.

Some had celebrities drawn that Brook could barely recognize, others anime characters,
movie scenes, and even some simple decorative flowers and fruit bowls of middling talent
came into view.

If some of those were Damian's, he did not acknowledge them as they walked by the winding
rows hand in hand, but Brooklyn somehow knew those weren't his. She recalled the strokes
of pencil on that'd drawing he gave her, the certain intensity of his art that was unique to him
and him only.

As they passed, enjoying the art, Brook saw something that immediately caught her eye.

Gods...

"Are these...me?" she asked breathlessly, pulling her hand back to stand before the seven or
so canvases placed next to one another.

They were certainly different from the rest, not just because of the skill level required to
depict these things that were far from simple teen joys, these practically screamed Damian to
her.

Placing her hands on her jean pockets, she watched as Damian moved to stand beside her,
seemingly more tense as he avoided her gaze, but nodded in confirmation all the same.

All this art, it had elements, little pieces of Brooklyn scattered into his art.
Some had her flowing red hair, her eyes, the Red Room symbol on a chest above a snowy
mountain. Another had a girl, facing away from view, wearing a dress Brooklyn knew all too
well, it was the dark red dress she'd worn at her first gala.

Then there was one with a golden bridge. The Brooklyn Bridge.

The Stark moved to feel for the golden necklace under her back tank-top and matching
jacket, feeling its cool surface as she started at its twin before her almost in awe.

All those signs of her in his art...not only was it immensely well done and flattering, but...for
some reason, it almost made Brooklyn want to cry.

If this was all his work for the semester, did that mean he started including her in his art since
they were enemies? Did that mean he thought about her, even now?

All the pieces were very beautiful, far beyond anything Brooklyn had ever seen herself in.

The last one thought....it must be the most recent, because it depicted a simple flame that
bloomed into stretched out petals. It did not look dangerous, nor was it tamed or confined
anywhere.

It was still a wild frame, but there was something about its unrestrained behavior against the
darkness of its background that....it almost looked harmless.

"Is this suppose to be my...my curse?" Brook whispered to the teen beside her, somehow
finding it hard to find her voice.

Damian frowned, turning her head to face him with a gentle calloused palm against her
cheek.

His face was no longer stiff or worried, there was only raw honesty as he whispered back,
"No part of you is a curse, my beloved. This is just a skill, a weapon you can carry like a
dagger or your gauntlets. Its like all the other paintings, just a piece of who you are"

Brooklyn looked up at his face masked in relative darkness, admiring the planes of his face.

"You truly aren't afraid of it then, my fire I mean"

Dami smirked, a reassuring gesture to go along with the hand caressing the cold flesh of her
cheek. He did not seem to mind the temperature, a small side effect of the fact that she'd gone
for safety over comfort, letting her vibranium bracelets work undisturbed without her
gauntlets or Stark watch heating them up.

Brooklyn may still be afraid of her own unwanted abilities, but Damian....

"Of course I'm not afraid. Of you, never" he whispered back.

They stood there, alone, under relative darkness just staring at one another. She couldn't help
but pull him in for a hug then, not just for not being afraid of her, but for keeping her in his
mind, even if it was not in the way Brooklyn knew for certain she know felt about him...the
fact that the most sincere refection of who he was, his art, depicted her in it...it was the
greatest honor Brooklyn had ever been bestowed.

When they moved back, his hands on her back and her own resting on his chest, Brooklyn
was reminded of three weeks ago, of the kiss they'd shared that day at the club.

Some part of her brain wanted to feel that again, in fact, it seemed her mind was already set
without Brook's consent, because she was leaning upwards, closer to his face...until she
looked over his shoulder and noticed someone behind them.

Brooklyn sprang from Damian's arms, almost knocking into his art when she saw the face of
her father in the shadows.

Dami turned around too, katanas out and ready to fight until Brooklyn noticed that her dad
really was behind them...but it wasn't him exactly....just a poster like all those of the Avengers
scattered around the halls.

This one had him in his casual wear, not Iron man, but Tony Stark.

At the bottom, the message read, "Make good decisions"

That almost gave her a heart attack...

Seeming to notice her gaze and lack of threat, Damian's gaze locked onto the poster with
glare as she said, "I hate that poster"

The dryness of his stone made Brook chuckle, and even through she was embarrassed by her
little display or the irony of that message considering she'd been about to...about to kiss a
Wayne who would never feel the same as she did...well it made her laugh a little longer.

She had to keep it together...

The two eventually made it back upstairs, deciding to hang out with their friends, and just
relax for once.

They found everyone at the gym, where the music was at its loudest and drunk and giddy
teenagers were already dancing to their favorite songs with vigor. The school band had gotten
into the music room somehow, and they'd managed to set a little stage where they played the
silliest of pop songs rather than their usual school spirit themed pieces.

Peter had stood up from his place with the band upon catching sight of Brooklyn and Damian
entering the busy room, setting down his clarinet to run over to them.

Unsure why he was so eager, immediately thinking the worst had happened and someone was
in danger, Brooklyn was taken aback by his embrace ( very evidently avoiding her scars),
more so when the doe eyed boy asked shyly, "I had no idea where you were, but now that
you're here...would you maybe..I don't know...want to dance with me?"

Before she could say anything, Ned appeared out of nowhere.

"Go dance Brooklyn! You need to relax a bit!" he encouraged, placing Brooklyn's hand in
Peter's and shooting them both a thumbs up as Peter led them into the dancing crowd.

She looked back only to notice Damian was frowning at Peter, arms crossed, and remaining
on the sidelines with Ned as the teen whispered something into the Wayne's ears excitedly.

In an instant, Damian's eyes went wide, and before the crowd could block him, she saw her
best friend storm out of the room, the crowds paving a way.

Brooklyn wondered what was wrong, if Ned being so close to him had bothered the Wayne
that despite being touched. She was about to go check up on him just to be safe, but then
Peter pulled her to a stop, a vibrant smile on his face as he began to dance awkwardly to the
beat of the music, encouraging her to do the same.

Her mind was still on her best friend when Peter whispered, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, just thinking" she said, "But why did you want to dance, I thought you hated it"

Peter's face reddened, brown curls obscuring her vision of his face as he looked to the floor
nervously.

"Well, actually... I wanted to talk to you but today has been so busy and I know this is the last
time for me to say this before break starts and we spend most of it at the compound with
everyone's eyes on us especially Mr. Stark's and he definitely wouldn't like it if I say this but I
feel like I have to because I've been dying to tell you since-"

He was rambling again.

Brooklyn moved to stop his nervous swaying, with her hands on his shoulders.

"What's wrong Pete? What do you have to say?"

Peter's panicked eyes mate her own as he asked meekly, "Would you maybe...want to go on a
dAtE WiTh mE?"

Brooklyn was sure she'd heard that wrong...

Did...had...Peter Parker just asked her out on a date? As in the kinds of outings people went
to when the liked one another?

Shit.

Perhaps once upon a time when she had still been trying to figure out herself and emotions,
Brook had dreamed of this day, but now... it just wasn't right.

How could she go on a date with Peter when her mind and soul was screaming at her that he
was not the one she wanted to engage in such activities with?

There was nothing wrong with Peter of course, any girl would be beyond lucky to go on a
date with him, she just wasn't the right girl for him. Brook had come to accept that not
everyone would be able to understand her the way Damian did, and there was nothing wrong
with that. Peter WAS afraid of her, he feared her power, her past, and though it may not be
fear, he was at least pitiful of the scars along her back.

But Damian had been right, all those things were a part of her, and it would not do Brook or
Peter any good to date if there was all of that between them.

So she sighed, moving to hug Peter as she voiced her confusion.

"Why would you ask me when it's clear you like MJ? You've been acting odd since I came
back from Xaviers, why is that? Why the change of heart?" she asked.

Peter's gaze moved to the end of the room where MJ was by a game table, taking everyone
for what they were worth in a card game she played with relative ease, reading a book as
people slumped in defeat around her.

"MJ will never like me" Peter said, "I realized that she probably doesn't look or pay attention
to me because I'm not the type of guy girls like. Every time we got closer, my secret got in
the way. She probably just thinks I'm irresponsible and busy all the time"

Is that why he'd been distant with MJ lately? He thought he wasn't good enough?

"Then why me?" she asked.

Peter looked down at her with wide eyes, "Please don't think I asked you out because MJ
doesn't like me! I really do like you a lot, I realized that when you were away! You know me
for who I am, the hero and the school me and you are ok with both. I just wanted to see if
these feelings I have...the ones Ned swore you had as well...if we could give it a try"

Ned...that son of a bitch.

Still, Brooklyn couldn't find it in her to be mad at Ned, not when he'd found out that
information when she and Ned thought Brook had a crush on Peter. If anything, Ned was
probably just trying to be a good friend.

But...things had changed since then.

So much had shifted in the course of a few months, enough so that the Stark knew for certain
now that her emotions, however new and limited, belonged to the Wayne.

Wow...it actually felt good to admit that to herself at last.

"Peter" Brooklyn said, cursing her lack of ability to be in tune with kindness as she added
softly, "First of all, the only reason you think MJ is avoiding you is because she looks at you
when you're not, and vice versa. I can tell you with absolute certainty that Michelle does have
feelings for you, everyone can see it, she'd just probably as bad as I am when it comes to
expressing those things"

Peter's eyes went wide at her words, looking back towards MJ, then turning to Brook as she
said, "As for us, I think I'd be very lucky to be able to date you, any girl in this world would
be...but you and I...I love our friendship, you were quite literally my first friend, which is
why I don't want you to get upset when I refuse, because I know in my heart its what's best
for the both of us"

Peter looked down at her with shock, not angry whatsoever but somewhat hurt.

"Don't give up on our MJ" she whispered, "I guarantee you that the wait will be worth it once
you two are ready"

It wasn't until Peter nodded, hugging her again and excusing himself to go with Ned and MJ
to the tables that Brooklyn realized things would be ok between them.

Peter had lost faith in MJ, but she knew those two looked at one another like it was all that
mattered.

So she went out the room, rushing around the school looking for Damian. She searched
everywhere, even the boy's bathrooms in case he was cleaning his coat or something of the
sort.

But he was nowhere to be found.

After half an hour or running up and down the school floors, Jon spotted her at his place
playing football with his team outside. He was the one who walked up to her, mentioning
Damian went home, looking upset for some reason.

"I thought he was supposed to drop you off at home" Jon asked, "Why didn't you leave with
him?"

Brooklyn sighed exhaustedly, the strong chilling effect of her bracelets making her all the
weaker.

"I was dancing with Peter when he left, I couldn't stop him" she admitted, watching as
something seemed to click in Jon's mind.

"Neve mind" Brooklyn said, brining the black jacket closer to her body as she added, "I'll go
talk to him since his family is away right now. You enjoy the rest of the night and let the
other know I already left, ok?"

Jon looked skeptical, but nodded nonetheless, offering to fly her there. Despite his kindness,
Brooklyn just decided to go home to get her suit, if she'd brought her Stark watch, she
might've been spared that little trip...but she'd make it to Gotham soon enough.

With that, Brooklyn left the celebrations behind, walking past the football field and into the
nearly empty streets of Queens. Everyone was at home watching some important baseball
game, but Brook wasn't complaining, it made running home all the faster without people
getting in the way.

On the way she wondered why Damian would leave so suddenly.

Had there been an emergency at home? No, he would've had Jon fly him there instead of
taking the Jeep all the way back to New Jersey.

Lost in her thoughts, running along the dark and quiet streets, Brooklyn almost missed the
sudden noise behind her. Almost.

When she turned, Brooklyn was shocked to see two women, and her heart stopped when she
saw what they wore. Thigh black suits, with red hourglass belts that glinted off the street light
like gems.

Of course Ivan chose to send more assassins after her now of all times...

She had very little chance to mourn the absence of her gauntlets and Stark blaster as the first
of the two women rushed to attack. Brooklyn managed to block all her attacks, swiftly
bringing the woman to the ground in an arm lock when the other attacked, knocking Brook
back to the cold and hand concrete.

Brook's face had hit the slippery pavement, the ice and snow doing little to stop the bruises
that would surely arise.

The Stark knew she had two choices as she tried to get back up.

1. She could try and run five blocks back to school for her team, but that would put the
students at risk.

2 Probably her best bet, was to run, call her friends on the way and wait until they found her.
They'd defeat the assassins, lock them up...and hopefully no one would get hurt.

In any other day, Brooklyn might've thought herself capable of taking on these women, but
her body had grown too cold in order to repress the flames, and if her anger rose...then a
greater tragedy could befall her.

Ivan had no idea, but he sent assassins after her when...when she was at her weakest.

Before the two women could attack again, Brooklyn backflipped into a crouching position,
quickly moving to run down the street and away from the attackers that were hot on her
heels.

Brooklyn kept an eye for snipers or loading weapons behind her, but it seemed that orders
were still to bring the teen back alive.

Just as she fished out her phone, ready to dial, Brooklyn spared the attackers behind her one
last look, and when she turned around to look at her phone...it was too late.

Her body collided with a hard chest in seconds, a big strong hand moving to her wrist, cutting
the circulation there and throwing her phone on the floor. Brooklyn watched it crack against
the pavement, and when she looked up...her breathing stopped.

It was impossible.
Standing before her, was Ivan.

Her heart began pounding, and even when Brooklyn worked past it to try attack him, the two
assassins had caught up to them, holding Book's arms and legs in place as Ivan stared down
at her with a smile.

"Did you miss me, malen'kiy pauk" he asked in a heavy Russian accent Brooklyn still had
nightmares about.

I really was him, those familiar horrible gray eyes looking at her like she truly was just a little
spider like he'd said.

Out of all the things Brooklyn could or should've said as she struggled agains the hold on her
in that little abandoned alley, what came out of her mouth was, "Why are you working for the
Joker?"

Maybe it was because that image of the secret man at the club was in her head. Ivan was here
in the country despite what they imagined to be impossible, meaning there was a high chance
that Brook had seen Ivan before already without even knowing it.

It was a chilling thought, more so than the coldness rushing through her body.

Ivan smirked, tipping his head back in a dark and horrifying laugh as he said simply, "We
aren't working for him little spider, he works for us"

What....

This may be worst than anything she could've ever imagined. Because if Ivan was calling the
shots, then they were all doomed.

Before she could think to put up a fight that would likely lead to her death, eight assassins
rounded the corner, throwing strong and study ropes of metal and rubber to immobilize her.

With a thud, Brooklyn fell to her knees, her arms pinned to her sides as she looked up at Ivan.

Some part of her brain knew that if she could summon the fire, she could get free. But even
now in the worst possible scenario imaginable, Brooklyn refused to try, which led to her
being hit in the head..collapsing on the cold ground...with only Ivan's chuckle in mind as her
eyes closed.

The fear remained though, because now she was in Ivan's hands at last, and it was all her
fault.

*******

Damian POV-

It had been a day since what happened at the school party, and Damian still had that
unsettling feeling in mind. When Ned had told him of Peter's plan to ask Brooklyn to be
partners in the romantic sense...something in Damian had shut down.
Had that part shut down to prevent the feeling of pain at knowing he'd kept his secrets too
long and would now be forced to watch his beloved with another guy? Perhaps. It felt
involuntary, leaving nothing but anger, not at Brooklyn or even at Peter....but strangely
enough, at himself.

What was even worse was that Brooklyn never hailed him via walkie-talkie last night, but
he'd figured perhaps she was still at school dancing with...with him. The ever righteous
Spider-man, the boy with no flaws who suddenly realized how much of an idiot he was being
around Brooklyn, just as Damian had figured out his emotions.

In the morning, the Wayne had taken the walkie-talkie down to the Batcave, just in case she
finally woke up from her 'four day all nighter' they pulled for their tests.

Damian most certainly would not be the one to call though, because even thought he
obviously did not care about the fact that Brook likely had a date with Parker, he didn't want
to hear her talk about it.

That's right, he doesn't care.

Let them date.

If his beloved was happy, then as her best friend, it was his mission to make sure she stayed
that way, but for now he would just train. It seemed that today of all days, there weren't
enough robot dummies or holographic enemies to fight, not enough to quell that cold anger in
his veins.

When Damian heard the elevator door open, he assumed it would be Pennyworth again,
asking if he was fine for the thousandth time or offering food. Everyone else was gone for a
stealth mission by the abandoned district in Gotham, meaning Pennyworth had no one else to
annoy other than the teen...who WAS fine by the way.

He didn't stop training, Damian actually launched himself off the wall and embedded his
katana through the skull of an alien hologram with some satisfaction, that was until Jon said
behind him, "Harsh. Even if it was a chitauri, should I be running for my life now?"

Damian paused the simulation, not bothering to turn back to his friend as he moved to a
nearby table, taking off the wraps from his hands silently.

"Oh common! I thought you'd be happy today!" Jon insisted, flying over to the table and
shaking off the snow in his hair in the process.

Damian huffed out, "Now why would I be happy?"

"Stop playing coy, tell be about Brooklyn, what is she up to today after last night?!" Jon
insisted, smiling widely and practically bouncing with excitement.

Out of all people in this world, Damian had expected Jon to be the last person to mock him
for what had occurred, but he had been getting bolder with his words and actions...

"I don't know and I don't care, now leave"

Jon went silent, then moved to grab Damian by the shoulders holding him at arms length,
looking almost pained as he said, "Please don't tell me you pushed her away?! Damian!"

Pushing HER away! Damian would NEVER do such a thing.

Swatting Jon's arms away, Damian turned back to stare at his katanas on the table, not
bothering to face the half-kryptonian as he replied, a little less harshly than he would've liked,
"She's the one who pushed me away you fool, haven't you heard from your great friend Peter
Parker about their date?"

Jon's eyes went wide, muttering "Date?" to himself as he fished out his phone and began
typing away.

In seconds, his sponge bob text alarm went off, and Jon proudly stayed, "What are you
talking about? Ned, he says Brook declined it"

Damian had no clue why, but he rushed over and snatched the cracked phone, looking at the
text that confirmed the impossible.

She truly had turned down Peter....

"Didn't Brooklyn tell you about this when she came here last night? Don't tell me you got all
jealous and kicked her out!" Jon groaned annoyingly, which momentarily paused the stream
of relief inside his body.

Last night?

Damian turned back to his friend with a raised brow, "First of all, I'm not jealous, I'm
incapable of such stupidity. Secondly, what are YOU talking about? Brooklyn was never
here"

"Are you sure?" Jon asked, "Brook was looking for you last night, practically rushed out the
school when I told her you left. She said she would come make sure you were ok since you
looked upset"

Damian had come home, rushed upstairs, and locked himself there, but he'd left the window
open. If his beloved had flown here, she could've easily come in since she knew which room
was his.

Jon was quick to force Damian to call her, almost shoving the phone in his hand so that
'Damian could apologize for being jealous'.....but Damian didn't get jealous....

Still he called, and Brook did not pick up all three times. He used the walkie-talkie, ignoring
Jon's curious gaze, but still she did not pick up.

They waited an hour to call again, hoping Brooklyn had just gotten home tired and decided to
nap and wake up late, but no matter how he contacted her, his beloved did not answer.

Thats when the sinking feeling in his heart began to pick up, not the one from before, but
something that knew Brooklyn might be in danger.
So they took his sports car, breaking every speeding law in Gotham without repercussion as
they rushed out the town. It wasn't until they made it to Queens that Jon forced Damian to
slow down. Apparently, he didn't want them to get pulled over by Bennet's father because it
would make them look like bad friends.

Damian did not consider Bennet a friend yet, but even thought the teen wanted nothing more
than to get to his beloved's apartment as quickly as possible, he slowed.

Once hey parked near the apartment complex, Jon texted Peter to let them in, but he was at
Ned's playing Halo, so Jon flew them over the gate discretely, and once they made it to the
balcony, Damian spoke to GIL to let them in so as to not trigger all the security measures.

Jon was surprised the A.I. complied.

GIL opened the balcony doors with a warm greeting for the Wayne, but the teen barely
acknowledged it as he realized the apartment was eerily silent.

Damian had foregone brining any weapons, not expecting any trouble as he rushed out the
Batcave.

That may have been a mistake.

Brooklyn could very well be peacefully sleeping in her room, or there could be a danger here
preventing the Stark from answering her calls.

Thanks to all the new security measures installed, there was too much lead in the home for
Jon to use his x-ray vision, so Damian urged him back as the Wayne headed into the kitchen
carefully, pulling out a knife off the magnetic strip on the kitchen wall Brook had installed
days ago to get easier access to a weapon in case it came frown to a fight like that.

Always thinking ahead, his beloved.

Slowly, he checked each room until he came upon Brooklyn's bedroom, only to find she was
not in bed. In fact, her bed was neatly made, but her jacket from last night was not on the coat
hanger, the smell of her shampoo after a morning shower was absent, and the kitchen had no
dishes in it.

When he told Jon, the teen frantically texted the team chat, wondering if Brooklyn could be
at the compound or with Peter and Ned. But no one had seen her since last night.

Yelena had assumed Brooklyn hadn't answered her texts because she was resting before
leaving for the compound next week. The Stark had joked about sleeping off the exhaustion
at school after all.

Damian immediately knew something was wrong, so he called on the team, and they all got
to work almost instantly.

They searched very route from Midtown to the apartments just to see if she'd passed out on
the side of the street somewhere, but the news Ned was checking showed nothing of the
Stark.
It was around mid-day when Ned just decided to track her phone since it was gone from the
apartment.

The place it led them was not promising.

The team rushed over to an alley way off a street Brooklyn usually took home. It was Jon
who spotted the phone first, off to the side, cracked and broken.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Thankfully, it still managed to turn on, only to show she'd been about to call the team.

The teens knew for certain something was wrong, and while Ned tried to find something on
the cameras around the city, the teens pushed past the snow on the ground to try and find any
clues as to what had happened.

Damian was shaking, not at the cold, but with worry.

There was only one type of people who had managed to best Brooklyn, and that had been the
Red Room, and even thought they found no clues of anything thanks to the fresh snow,
Damian knew they had to be involved.

As the worst timing possible, Damian received at text once the team had settled down on the
side of the street, awaiting Ned's research. He'd opened it frantically thinking it might be
Brooklyn somehow...but it was just his father.

Come home, now.

Damian scoffed. Of course father would contact him during something important.

I'm busy, Damian had replied quickly, moving to pocket the phone when he heard another set
of notifications, unusual considering father was persistent, but never over text.

It's an urgent matter, Damian.

You must get home soon, I don't care where you escaped to, just come home now.

Jon saw the texts, and though he was worried and on the verge of tears as he held onto
Yelena's gloved hand, he still seemed confident as he said, "Go see what Bruce wants. If he's
texting you it must be important, either about the Joker or maybe Selina. We'll text you if we
find out anything else"

"I'm not leaving until-" Damian was cut off by Yelena.

"Jon is right, right now there isn't much we can do. Go to your father before he comes to us"
she said, with Peter nodding beside her encouragingly, even though he'd been crying since
this search started.

Damian knew they were right, that didn't mean he liked it.
If this truly was an urgent matter father needed him for, then it must be really bad. His family
was supposed to be out on patrols, could they have found something?

I took Jon leading Damian back to the car for him to leave, and this time, Damian rushed out
he city and into the manor in record time.

Though his worry for Brooklyn as almost physical entity, he pushed it down, putting his mask
of indifference back on as he entered the living room, hell bent on yelling at his father, until
he noticed his family was standing on one side of the living room, weapons drawn and ready
to fight.

Dick was the first to turn to Damian, pity in his eyes as he moved aside to let the youngest
teen see what they were dealing with.

Out of all things Damian had been expecting...it wasn't this.

"Mother?"

The woman on the other side of the room was seated in Jason's favorite chair, a martini in one
hand and a katana in the other. She looked just as Damian remembered her, long dark brown
hair swept back, green eyes like his own strong and unwavering. Unlike her usual elegant
attire of dresses, or tight suits for combat, mother was dressed in her League attire.

Damian supposed that was normal, she WAS in charge of the League now.

The teen moved past the protective barricade of hi siblings, but was not dumb enough to
approach without a weapon, so he snatched one of Todd's guns as he passed, loading it just in
case.

Todd slept with mother once, he could hardly complain about the stolen weapon anyways.

"Now Damian, why the hostile welcome? Aren't you glad to see me?" his mother asked,
taking a sip of her drink as she eyed him up and down, inspecting for changes and
weaknesses no doubt.

"That would depend why you're here considering you're supposed to be busy with a war"
Damian replied, feeling odd talking to his mother after all this time.

Her face was still passive as she examined the line of vigilantes behind Damian, where the
teen noticed Dick and Stephanie had moved to stand protectively before Pennyworth and
Selina.

Selina was frowning, only held back from attacking because of the bump in he belly she
cradled protectively.

It occurred to Damian that mother may very well be here because of the fetus. She'd always
viewed father as her property, someone that belonged to her despite the absence of love and
trust.

If mother attacked Selina, who would Damian stand by?

It seemed everyone was staring at him wondering that same question.

But mother did not move from her place lounging properly on the loveseat with her red cape
draping off the side, she just nodded at his words and replied, "I'm glad you got my
invitation. The League IS at war, which is why I need you to join Damian, it is your duty"

So she really had come for him after all...

Only Damian had no interest in leaving, he needed to get back to Queens, find the Red Room
somehow, see if Brooklyn's tracking device still worked after what happened with the fire in
Wakanda.

The teen couldn't show his panic before his own mother, all Damian could do was stand
straight, glare at her form and move to turn back to his family.

"Not interested" he replied simply, but was stopped from leaving by three league assassins
who jumped off the ceiling to block his path.

Dick and Todd looked about ready to attack, only to be stoped by mother's voice as she called
their panic unnecessary.

"We're not here to kill anyone, much less my heir" mother said, moving to stand before
Damian, her light armor pieces glinting against the chandelier's brightness.

"As for you my son, this is not about interest, you must come. All the assassin guilds will be
there in a few days" she said, at last bringing pause to Damian's frustrations.

All guilds...

"All of them?" he asked for clarification, trying to sound disinterested by the concept, but
arguably intrigued considering that had never occurred before, even Drake was cursing the
possibility behind them.

Mother nodded, "Yes, we are getting ready for war after all"

Damian's previous assumptions had been more inaccurate than he'd realized.

"You're not at war with another assassin group?"

Talia shook her head.

That meant, that if the Red Room took Brooklyn somehow....he could get a lead to where she
might be by joining mother.

Damian knew his family was expecting him to have changed enough to deny the request,
they were actually already planning getting into a fight to drive mother away.

In all honesty, Damian did no want to go to his mother, those dreams of leading the League
had vanished with each passing year, even more so when he met Brooklyn.
But if this was the only way, he had to make it look believable...

"Will you leave me alone if I go just this once?" Damian asked, ignoring the gasps from his
family.

Mother smirked, as if she'd won.

"No, but you won't see me for a long while after" she replied.

Father stepped forward then, ready to drag Damian back, but the league's assassins were
already blocking the way, katanas in hand. Damian knew father could take them on with his
eyes closed, but HE needed to find Brooklyn above all else.

So Damian nodded, agreeing to go with the excuse that father wasn't letting him do much in
terms of missions lately and he was bored and in need of change.

Everyone began screaming then (all but Pennyworth who just looked disappointed), urging
Damian not to be an idiot or resort back to his old ways, but he ignored them...let them think
what they wanted, all that mattered right now was getting Brooklyn away from the Red
Room. And if Damian had any luck, Ivan himself would be there for the Wayne to beat the
answers out of.

Before Damian could move upstairs to pack a small bag, mother stoped him with a stern look
as she said, "Before you think of letting your father use you to track assassin activity, rest
assured I wont let you do that"

Damian scoffed, not bothering to look at his father as he said "This isn't Gotham business. he
won't care"

Still, two more assassins in full black suits covering their faces and bodies stepped forward
seemingly out of nowhere. While Talia urged the Waynes that they need not attack, Damian
was tested for bugs and trackers.

He rushed upstairs afterwards, packing a quick bag (which was inspected), and donned the
league outfit mom left for him too.

It felt odd to wear the blue and gold armor again, the long bullet proof black long sleeve
under, and the red cape fastened around the shoulder blades of the armor felt almost like the
completing factor of becoming another person entirely.

Looking in the mirror, he almost didn't recognize himself, because that was not Damian
Wayne or Robin standing before the mirror...this was Damian al Ghul.

Despite Titus' insistence to follow once he beheld the odd armor, Damian made him stay back
with Alfred the cat. He had not clue how long he'd be gone, and those two would be best
taking care of one another at least. Batcow would certainly need some affection from them
with the Wayne gone.

The Wayne took his katanas as well, weapons his mother did not argue with when she saw
them strapped to the sides of his waist. They were the weapons he'd always used, the last
 remnants of Damian's grandfather.

As they made their way out the living room, with mother promising to bring Damian back in
one piece if he wished to keep playing Robin, Damian ignored everyone's disappointed and
shocked looks.

Instead of worrying about that, he used mother and father's rising argument to move closer to
Dick, who looked more pained than upset.

He wasn't able to say much, just a quick whisper.

"Contact Jon, tell him what happened and who I left with. He'll have track me, but tell him to
track someone else, he'll know who I mean. Don't waste time arguing when you find out, just
find me"

With that, Damian had no choice but to leave a confused Dick behind, and the teen just hoped
his eldest brother would be of some use...

The green eyed boy couldn't find it in himself to look back at his family, not when they
thought he was leaving them for war, to become the demon they all thought he used to be.

No, he just followed his eager mother to a jet parked out in the back yard, let her lead him to
a seat where he noticed all the widows were tinted so as to not show the outside. He wasn't
told where they were going when they got airborne either...mother just told Damian that he'd
done the right thing.

Damian knew he had....because he'd get answers out of the Red Room, then after stopping all
the assassins, he'd leave to find Brooklyn, who was in trouble because he hadn't driven her
home when he was so overcome by....by jealously.

He'd been a jealous idiot...

But he'd find her, whatever it takes.

Chapter End Notes

Brook saw the art! Finally!

Also, nowhere on the internet does it specify what instrument Peter Parker plays, so I
decided to work something out myself. I feel like because Peter tends to be a kind and
gentle guy (when he's not fighting crime) he'd have an instrument to represent that. I
knew bass instruments wouldn't be right, and I felt like trumpets and instruments of that
sort just didn't fit right. So, I chose the clarinet.

It may seem like nothing important, but I do try to do as much research about even the
smallest aspects of these fandoms and even things in real life. This question kinda
stumped me for a while...

I had a long while of trying to figure out how the assassin guilds would looks like and
work, what would make each of them special. It all started with the League, who I
would imagine would treat Talia and Damian like royalty...thus they had to look like
such.
Though I did not like the DC Apokslips war, I do imagine Damian would keep to the
same League styled clothes of his youth and his people.

Trust me, things are about to get very interesting....

 Ivan's Heiress

Brooklyn POV-

After waking up with an injury-induced headache so often, Brooklyn really shouldn't have
been surprised by her current circumstances.

Once again, she'd been taken by the Red Room. There was a time when Brook considered it
an inevitability, but with so much on the line, this felt like being bathed with a bucket of ice
water. As she laid there with eyes closed, trying to use her other senses to figure out where
she was...Brook was just hoping she was not too far away for the reach of her implanted
tracker to report back on her location.

Perhaps it would take her friends and family a day or so to figure out she was taken, then
again, the Stark had no clue how long had passed already. What she could do now was try
and figure out a plan of escape, or at least wage where she was.

She was laid out on a bed, that was for sure. The plush mattress under her was very
comfortable, and the air around her smelled of the sea and something old that was almost
stifling. There was no nearby breeze or the familiar winter scents of Russia, but even with her
eyes closed, she could tell the place she'd been dropped off was dark. A fireplace was
crackling somewhere in the distance though, an explanation to the warmth she felt.

Brook knew her head had suffered some mild injuries, her lip burned as well from a cut or a
bruising blow, likely from when she fell face first on the floor upon capture. Other than that,
the Stark seemed to have full usage of her limbs, even when she dared not move them at the
moment. Despite the disadvantageous circumstances, at least she was in decent health to
make an escape attempt when the time came.

Though she hadn't sensed another person nearby, it was a good thing she remained immobile
despite her startling awakening. It wasn't long before Brooklyn quickly became aware of the
nearing footsteps by her side, as if someone were walking up to the bed to check up on her.

Doing her best to seem asleep, Brook pushed aside rising panic and tried to figure out what
she could make of the sounds. Heavy boots, near silent breathing, a male humming of a very
familiar song...

The song was called Katyusha, an old Russian folk song from World War II. Though the
nearing individual didn't belt the lyrics, Brooklyn still recalled the sad story of a young
woman waiting for her love taken to the war with terrifying vividness. It was one of the few
instances in her childhood in which Brooklyn was introduced to music, though she wouldn't
exactly consider any song from those days as a fond memory.

There was the introduction to music from her ballet pieces of course, but this song was
specific to one man in particular. It used to serve as a warning for the young widows back in
Brook's youth, a way to know that when the song echoed along the dark hallways, it meant
Ivan was nearby.
Some part of her had been hoping her memories of seeing Ivan during her capture had been
some sort of mistake, that it had been a panicked delusion of her own mind. But this was real,
she was stuck in a room with her old master, and there was nothing she could do to escape the
cruel man. Brook tried to keep the shivers at bay upon realizing Ivan was basically at her
bedside, which felt akin like swimming along with a cluster of hungry sharks. Worse even.
The sharks would give her a quick death, Ivan would draw out the torture for days.

Brook waited for what felt like hours, yet Ivan didn't move, nor did his whistling and
humming stop. Over and over, the sorrows of the Katyusha kept her painfully aware of who's
mercy she was now in.

For once in a long time, Brooklyn was alone, no family or friends nearby to lean on. They
had all made Brook stronger these past few months, much more than she ever imagined
possible...but being away from them...she'd never considered how weak she'd feel without
them. It was worse when she realized seeing them again was now a slim possibility.

Like a fool, Brooklyn had left her best weapons at home, and whatever stray daggers she'd
carried on her person were clearly taken. All she could feel was the constant cold of the
inconspicuous vibranium bracelets at her wrists, a countermeasure she had to deal with
thanks to the man looming nearby nonetheless.

It got to the point that Brook was sure Ivan would never leave, that delaying the dreaded
reunion would hold little benefit at this point...so Brooklyn Stark swallowed the fear in her
bones and slowly opened her eyes.

The first things she noticed were the ancient brick structure in the room, the darkness only
kept at bay by a few candles sitting on lavish tables around the circular space and the small
fire roaring in the stone fireplace. It wasn't anything like any room from the Red Room
headquarters she'd ever been in, then again, that place had been destroyed long ago. There
were only two doors, each made of reinforced metal that didn't look as ancient as the rest of
the room, almost as if it were a recent addition to ensure proper security.

The smell of the sea she'd caught a whiff of earlier came from a small latch on the ceiling,
one that was too small to fit through or to allow proper sunlight from.

The side to her left was stocked food; simple porridge, water, and hard bread. Nothing like
the meals someone of Ivan's status had likely ever tasted, which oddly meant they must be for
her. Aside from the oddity of being given a meal, there were too many other things about this
place that were off, but not all of them.

The textiles hanging on the walls were definitely Russian though, full of red embroidered
flowers, a common folk pattern. From the door to her right she refused to get a good look at,
Brooklyn could hear whispers in Russian, a mother tongue she'd only used sparingly these
past few years. An incense was lit somewhere beside her where Ivan was likely watching her
wake with amusement. That too was a familiar smell, the famous Russian Lump Church
scent.

Strong. Unwavering.
By her bedside along with the food, there was also bouquet of flowers, the only flora Ivan
had allowed the sight of since they were the national flower of their country. The odd and the
familiar were a confusing blend, almost as if someone had taken a foreign room and placed
the past right atop it without too much care. It was dizzying, puzzling, and above all it had
Brooklyn's nerves spiking.

"Chamomile, I hope you remember it," Ivan said, heavy accent present as he slowly stood
from his chair to go around to the other side bed, caressing the delicate white petals as if his
hands were not gushing red with the blood of his crimes.

Brooklyn had no clue what to do, the fear was seeping in, her fight or flight instincts
colliding with one another now that she could see her old master after so many years apart.
He was just as she'd remembered him; strong, with slight traces of dark stubble on his face,
even darker hair cut short for battle convenience, and those cold and dangerous silver eyes of
his staring at her...

Ivan smirked once he caught her looking, taking one of the flowers from the vase and
offering it to her.

Brook briefly wondered if a small flower could be used to injure the man in some way, but he
likely had weapons stashed all across his body, likely hidden under the long sleeved grey
shirt and the dark blue dress pants whose long sash along his high waist no doubt had enough
daggers and knives to cut her open.

As per usual, Ivan was barefoot, that haunting black hourglass tattoo still resting on his
muscular forearm that she could see past the sheer sleeve.

There was no mistaking him for an imposter, nor was it possible to convince herself that this
was just a bad dream.

When Brook didn't reach for the flower, Ivan clicked his tongue in disapproval but placed it
back in its resting place before sitting on the edge of bed, just inches from where she was
laying down frozen as a tree. He stared down at her form with the confidence of a person who
knew he had a fly in a spiderweb, at his mercy. Waiting to see what she'd say or do once the
confusion disappeared, no doubt actions and words that would determine her fate.

Brooklyn was suddenly aware that she only had two options from now on. The first was to
try and kill Ivan and make a run for it, but if she was in Russia or in another Red Room
stronghold, that was likely an impossible plan to begin with. The second option was a much
more dangerous game, one that would take a toll on her soul and truly test the limits of her
patience and the anger she felt towards Ivan.

But that flimsy plan might just buy Brook the time to figure out where she was and how to
get home. It was unsavory, despicable, but these were desperate circumstances not fueled by
the selfish instinct of survival Ivan had tried to ingrain in her, but rather by the hope that she
could get back to those she loved. They were her motivation now, the reason why she'd play
against a thousand odds if it meant getting back to the beautiful life she'd begun building for
herself.
Decision made, Brooklyn began her game by slowly sitting up against the headboard,
frowning at the sheets on her lap if only to hide the pain from her searing headache. She
allowed the slow confusion to be seen, a side-effect of her injuries, but nothing more. One
must not show emotions around Ivan, not pain or sorrow, only cruelty and obedience. That
was what she must abide by from now on.

"Lider Ivan," Brooklyn said at last, reverting back to her Russian as she bowed her head,
trying not to cringe at how familiar this action was from days she'd hoped to be nothing more
than haunting nightmares. Right now they were her cruel reality.

When she looked up, Ivan's intense silver eyes were on her, already scanning for truths and
lies.

"I am glad to see you are truly alive, my little spider. It has been quite the mess trying to get
you back to me...back where you belong. Four days later, you have finally awoken" Ivan said,
taking a strand of her long auburn hair and painlessly crushing it into his fist.

Four days...she'd been out for that long.

Brook didn't move away from his touch that could easily turn violent, she didn't jump off the
bed or attack as her instincts screamed. Instead, she honned the mask of her new identity, the
one that would hopefully save her life.

"My apologies for that. Once it became clear the Red Room lived, I was hoping we would be
able to meet once I finished the mission you last entrusted to me. I wanted to return to you
with a gift," Brook said, keeping her face impassive when looking upon her master, then
sneering at the distant door the way Brooklyn's birth mother used to do when a girl failed to
do a task perfectly.

A cruel gesture, expected of someone who was unfeeling and heartless. Brook just hoped it
was believable, seeing as it didn't fit who she was now.

"Its a shame your spiders didn't let me finish the job..." Brook added, to which Ivan raised a
perfectly groomed brow.

The man examined her for a few tense heartbeats, then asked, "What do you mean by that,
malen'kiy pauk"

Little spider. There was something about hearing that old nickname that almost had her mask
faltering. Almost.

"My plan has been ruined, my cover likely blown. Surely you know that I have been fulfilling
my life purpose all these years, that I have remained your servant even when I was uncertain
of your survival"

Ivan appeared as if he hadn't considered that possibility, meaning he had been set on labeling
her as the traitor she truly was. A fate she hoped her acting would dissuade.
"The day of the attack, I disobeyed the orders of my superior because I heard the Americans
were attacking and infiltrating our home. I left my post to fight them off, to kill as many as
possible so that you may escape," Brooklyn said, the lie flowing smoothly as she added,
"Then a woman showed up. Natalia Romanova. She told me everyone was gone or dead, but
that she saw herself in me, that she'd take me to America to be safe from what she considered
a cruel life"

Ivan's face contorted into anger at the mention of Natasha, just as Brooklyn hoped it would.
Distracting him that way was the only way to keep him from seeing the holes in her lie, the
gaps Brook wasn't yet certain how to fill when every word tasted like bile in her mouth.

"You once mentioned the target of my mission was in America, so I allowed the traitor to
take me as a way to find him. If the Red Room was gone, the least I could do to avenge it was
to fulfill your wishes. I had to stomach years as an orphan, studying Anthony Stark in the
shadows of a new world until he 'accidentally' found me not long ago"

Ivan smirked at last like the image of her lie was taking shape in his mind, yet Brooklyn
showed no sign of her overwhelming relief as she added with a small smirk of her own, "I
told him my mother died, that I was his child with no home to go back to. I played on his
pathetic guilt of missing my youth enough so that he never questioned my origins. His
abundance of one-night stands was enough to get rid of any immediate suspicion of me, even
when SHIELD informed him I was 'rescued' from Russia"

"I assume you played your role quite well, little one. I've seen you on TV" he said casually,
fingers clasped atop his strong thigh. Brook momentarily feared there was a weapon hidden
within them, but the thought of being watched by Ivan without her knowledge was beyond
repulsing and terrifying. It was but was a chilling truth that she truly hadn't escaped the
confines of her past all this time.

Brook hadn't been a fool though, had always been aware of the possibility that he could have
been keeping an eye on her, especially after the kidnapping attempts. But there was
something about tit being confirmed that only made the current situation even more nerve
racking.

But she had to be smart, not scared. Fear got people killed, and right now more than ever, she
couldn't afford the weakness. She could cry about it later.

"I had to play my role well, dealing with an array of odd tortures to ensure Tony Stark's trust.
I had pretend I was on his side to secure my position as his heiress. Unfortunately, that came
with acting the part of New York's printsessa. I had to endure people trying to befriend me,
and be on constant watch from SHIELD who I always suspected din't quite trust me. But
eventually, they were fooled as well" Brooklyn lied, "I had no clue you were alive until you
sent the Black Widow after me, but because I was not alone in that apartment then, I had to
play the part of hero and stop her. Not long after, I secretly let the Black Widow see who I
truly was, the game I was playing, and she began playing too"

Ivan took out a small dagger from the sash against his waist, and Brook briefly assumed it
was to kill her after she'd missed something vital in her careful structured lies. But the blade
never pierced her body, he merely threw it in the air a few times absentmindedly, as if waiting
for her to continue.

"I practically had Stark Industries secured under my control for the future, the Avengers now
at my beck and call. Knowing you and the Red Room survived, it made me realize I could
only go back to you once I was able to hand those things over to you. When the alien weapon
issue started, I realized you might have something to do with it since some of your people
tried to kidnap me using them. I hoped they might take me to you, but they took too long to
get me out of the country, and since I was pathetically 'rescued' by little Avengers in training
that time, I had to keep my cover intact by helping fight against my fellow sestras.
Afterwards, I focused on leading all suspicion away from you and the Red Room while I
worked a way to kill Anthony Stark"

Saying such fowl words about her own dad and friends, it felt like drinking acid, an
unexpected pain considering all that was happening. But those words were what Ivan needed
to hear, lies that would mask her constant treachery against the Red Room.

"It appears you came up with a very good plan, my little spider," Ivan said, seeming pleased
as he stood from the bed. She could've sagged with relief, that is until the man began
shouting orders for others to come into the room. He looked every bit a king as he stood at
her beside, arms behind his back, a fire alight in his eyes at having her back under his control.

Ivan was no fool, but he was often blinded by his ego and confidence, two attributes that had
helped her survive another day. Passing an unspoken test that could've meant the difference
between life or death.

Cold eyes shifting from the rucking behind door towards her, the man added in that heavy
accent of his, "I'm glad to see you have not strayed from your path, your future, even after all
this time"

Before she could answer, eight widows shuffled inside the room. Each stood still by the foot
of the bed, eyes on their master, all awaiting orders like robots.

Realizing Ivan wanted her to stand, Brooklyn pushed aside all discomforts and did as was
expected. In relevance to his earlier words, Brook bowed at the masked praise, ready to go
line up next to the others when his strong and calloused hand closed around her upper arm,
keeping her at his side.

Unsure of why she was kept by his side, Brook added to her performance by stating coldly,
"The only traitor is Natalia, fooling herself into thinking she could be a false hero even if it
meant betraying the Red Room and Russia. I thought about killing her too, but I figured you
might want to give her a traitor's death"

Ivan hummed in agreement, his land loosening in her hold only to reach for the dagger on the
bed that he'd been playing with. He placed the cold metal in her hands, letting her examine
the golden designs on the hilt as he dragged Brook to stand before the widows on the other
side of the bed. Brook quickly realized the girls couldn't be much older than her, between the
ages of 14-25 for sure. Most had likely just graduated from the academy, or where at least
close enough to it to be allowed on missions.
They all saluted Ivan, then replicated that same greeting for Brooklyn.

At first Brook was confused by the formalities, the respect of it all, that was until she
remembered what person she'd had to become. Playing the part of loyalty for Ivan didn't just
make her a mere Widow. Here, she wasn't Brooklyn Stark any longer...she was their heiress.

Beside her, Ivan smirked at the reverence, silver eyes looking down into her own when he
spoke up casually. As if ordering a meal at a restaurant, but there was no mistaking the
command behind his voice.

"After all you've revealed to me, it appears that your sestras have ruined your mission then.
These were the girls sent to retrieve you, make them pay for their negligence with their lives"
he commanded, eyes moving to the dagger atop her hand.

Never mind that the girls had only gone to retrieve her under his orders. Brooklyn knew this
wasn't so much about the mission, but rather a test, a final way to see if she was telling the
truth.

Brooklyn tried not to let her horror show at the realization that this had to be done for her
performance to be complete. Killing had once come as easily as breathing, and she'd worked
had to rid herself of the habit, but here was Ivan asking her to do something she shouldn't
even be pondering as his heiress. If she truly worked for him, believed that her capture was
nothing but an inconvenience, their death was the only way to atone for it. To make it easier,
Brook tried to convince herself that the girls before her were awful people, that they deserved
death for crimes committed and the blood on their hands.

Brook glanced down at her tired refection on the blade's surface, noting the injury to her lip,
the masked horror in her eyes.

She couldn't...she couldn't kill them, not when Damian's voice kept ringing in her head.

We don't kill.

The heiress tried to make it look like she wasn't hesitating, but instead admiring and testing
the balance of the sharp blade as the sestras kneeled on the ground before her. Though it felt
almost impossible, she turned to face Ivan then, kneeling down as she said as smoothly as
possible, "Your orders are my command, Lider Ivan"

She tried to find comfort in reason. Brook knew that even if she refused to kill the girls, they
would all die anyways with the Stark in the mix by Ivan's hands. He would be much less
merciful than she was, would likely torture them for a crime that was hers alone if only to
prolong the diffusing of his anger. This way, Brook could find a way back home... then she'd
stop Ivan, prevent this from ever happening to another innocent girl again.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't make it any easier. Still, Brooklyn's mask never faltered, she simply
couldn't allow it when Ivan was looking for any kind of weakness to reveal her true
intentions. Still, the ringing in her head grew louder, and her eyes were stinging with the
threat of tears as Brooklyn stood and faced the eight girls now kneeling before her. None of
them showed any signs of fear of their demise, as was expected of all Widows. It was almost
worse, looking into their eyes and seeing nothing of the joy and freedom she'd found upon
escaping Ivan's grasp, a kind fate none of these girls would ever know.

All Brooklyn wanted to do was turn around and spill out the contents of her stomach, to run
as far away from the blade in hand as possible. It felt so heavy...even more so as Brook
walked over numbly to the first girl of rich dark skin and eyes as bright as honey...bringing
the blade down with once practiced efficiency. The body thudded to the floor like the echo of
a deadly bullet. Brook didn't let herself register what she'd done, the way she'd pierced that
once-beating heart.

She ignored the spatter of blood across her face and wrinkled clothes, the growing puddle of
it at her feet...then moved to the next kneeling girl.

On and on, that action repeated itself eight times until her hands were dripping with the ruby
liquid. With each death, her mask became harder to hold up as the the motionless bodies
covered the floor before her. Soon the wood was stained with their blood, a crimson river that
flowed towards her feet due to the slight slanting of the room, or perhaps a noble deity's
punishment as a reminder of the life she'd taken.

Brook had only been able to grant those poor girls one small mercy, a quick death. The
consequences of which were worth it.

Ivan had likely been expecting torture, long hours of Brooklyn tearing apart their bodies
before him, but Brooklyn had given them the only gift she could without destroying her
cover. She'd pretended to be bling to the expectations of Ivan's punishment, choosing instead
a fate that was still cruel enough for the man to be satisfied. Still, the disgust in herself and
the horror of her actions, both were currently chaotic voices inside her head.

It was almost mumbly that Brooklyn looked sideways at the man and smirked, letting the
blood drip down lazily from her fingers, acknowledging Ivan's silent praise. She barely
registered his command to shower, change, and then join him out for a walk. She stifled the
anger she felt at his ease despite the eight bodies sprawled before them, all of them still warm
with the last of their flowing blood. He didn't care for any of them after all, that in itself
wasn't a surprise, but it was easier to hide the anger than her own shame.

Mercifully, she heard Ivan say that for now, they had bigger things to worry about than
Anthony Stark. There was a war brewing, finally time for something big.

Brooklyn nodded, watching as servants came into the room, men and women with tired eyes,
mouths sown shut, all in torn grey rags as they worked up a hot bath in an adjacent room,.
Others filing in with folded clothes that they gently laid atop the bed.

It wasn't until Ivan left and Brooklyn ordered the poor servants to leave seeing as she could
bathe herself, that she finally dissipated her mask in that lone washroom. The tub itself was
big enough for five people, made of rich smooth stone carved into the floor, a rustic look that
was not Ivan's preferred living style. There were no windows or cameras, no hidden
microphones or false walls from what her diligent inspection could tell. There was only old
stone, a few soaps lining the edge of the bath, and the steam of the hot water that served to
hide the tears cascading down her eyes.
Brooklyn didn't even mourn the bloody state of her jeans, jacket, and shirt....the only items
from home she had with her now until she could figure out a way to escape. All she could
focus on was scrubbing her skin raw, getting rid of the blood and its lingering invisible traces
on her skin.

She did not sob, wouldn't dare to even with a thick wall between her and any others. Instead
she let the tears fall silently, scrubbing at the blood dried inside her nails with utmost
thoroughness. Brook should've been glad none of them had bothered to scream, that the
sound of their deaths would not haunt her. Yet the tears continued to flow the more she
acknowledged those girls were innocent, that in their eyes, her own twin soul had been
reflected amidst the emotionless chasm.

Brook washed the remnants of their blood with shame, frowned at her array scars, the new
injuries she'd received during her kidnapping thats stung when met with the warm water.
Perhaps she deserved that after the mass murder she'd committed.

Once back in the room, Brooklyn held on to the towel around her body tightly as she scanned
the clothes laid out for her. Thick winter clothes. Atop the pile was black Russian fur cap
with a matching coat that was scarily her size. Amidst the lapels there was a little pin the
shape of a red hourglass, one that would rest against the fabric atop her heart. Underneath all
those things were simple undergarments too, wool insulated trousers of deepest crimson that
was almost black, and a white long-sleeve that was feminine yet with the regality of military-
styled clothing.

Before leaving the room, as Brooklyn fastened her black fur boots, she tucked a letter opener
from the beside table within one of her footwear just in case. Once she placed her hands in
the black muff made out of fur from some poor sacrificed animal, Brook finally dared to look
at the foot of her bed.

There were no dead bodies, and the carpet and stained wooden floors that had once been were
devoid of the evidence of her heinous execution. Servants had taken the bodies out like they
were worthless trash, and there would likely be a new clean carpet atop those lonely
floorboards in a few hours to replace the other merely for aesthetic purposes, not guilt.

That did nothing to hide the fact of what she'd done, at least not in her mind.

Steeling her nerves—not willing to test Ivan's patience—Brooklyn knocked on the large iron
door, almost relieved when it opened without the sound of opening locks until she noticed
Ivan poised on the other side, heavy black fur hat and coat on, expensive regalia that matched
her own clothes.

Ivan didn't say much as he guided Brooklyn through a series of dark hallways made of the
same old stone as the room. There were ancient torches that lit the way, soldiers in black
masks guarding the halls as they passed. All saluted to both her and Ivan as they walked
down the windowless halls and closed doors, though she wanted to gouge her eyes out at the
mere thought that they revered her as an individual of Ivan's standing.

It wasn't until they made it out to a snow covered garden that Brooklyn realized she truly had
no idea where she was.
The building was perched on some sort of hill or mountain, the hall before them nothing but a
stone railing. Brooklyn could barely see the ocean as it spanned for miles and miles below
with no sign of nearby land. This was an island of some sort, located so high up she realized
the fog was not fog at all, but clouds.

It was freezing outside the confines of the inner hallways, but that didn't stop the hundreds
upon hundreds of people from milling about the place. Brook quickly found that the building
around her was actually structured like a mall or ancient castle, one with many floors and
looming halls above and below, all surrounding the peculiar space in the middle of the island.
There, down below, was a large coliseum. It was something one would see in the Roman
section of a history book, a myth of the past rather than a place Ivan would've favored. It was
weathered, cracked in places, even missing some walls like the rest of the outer structure, but
it was massive...and full of assassins.

One of the first things Brook noticed about the place was that the people milling about were
not what she'd been expecting. Some bore thinner black fur coats and hats like Brook and
Ivan, those greeted them in Russian as they passed. It was cheaper fabric, but still clearly of
Russian origin, meaning those women were Black Widows. Others milling about wore
golden cloaks, had shaved heads, and were dressed in loose pants and shirts despite the cold.
They had tattoos in Hindu and carried bō staffs on their backs. They too acknowledged Ivan,
but not with as much reverence as his own people and not in the language of his birth.
Brooklyn noted others were covered head to toe in black, the lower half of their faces covered
form view and pins of a simple tree on their shoulders. Those people carried golden daggers
by their sides, blades bent and ends sharp like a fangs. They too greeted them with respect,
but did so in with a thicker accented English.

The assassins that were training in the nook garden Brook was currently walking amidst wore
tight blue body suits, crests with a single white rose evident on their chest. The same jagged
scar ran down their left cheeks and over one of their eyes, a brand of sorts rather than a battle
wound.

This place, wherever it was, was filled with assassin guilds from all over the world. Some
were well known to the world's everyday population, others were discreet enough that their
identities remained known only to other assassin guilds. Most passed Brook could easily
name, like the famed Ten Rings that ruled over China and The Hand that ruled over Japan.
Others she could at least guess their place of origin and their level of skill by the weapons
they carried or the way they were watched cautiously by other guilds.

Either way, this was madness, an unimaginable scenario of which she wasn't sure how to
proceed from.

When Ivan guided her past some winding stone arcs to another courtyard—larger than the
last—Brook noted that those people wore peculiar chest armor of gold and black, their metal
pauldron armor atop their shoulders holding long black capes in place, sharp katanas in hand
as they trained. Their movements were precise and deadly, like a lunging snake.

Thats when Brooklyn became aware of a woman emerging from the large wooden carved
doors to her right. She bore similar armor to the assassins training in the courtyard, but her
cape was a striking red, no doubt meant to signify a higher status. Her had dark brown hair
was long and luscious, a woman with striking caramel-colored skin, her face full of sharp
contrasts and a glare that signified she was not one to be messed with.

It wasn't until Ivan guided Brook the woman's way that she truly grasped who that woman
was. It was enough to cut off the air to her lungs.

"Talia al Ghul," Ivan said as way of greeting, motioning to Brooklyn who stood deadly still at
his side as he added, "May I present my heiress, known as 10452"

Der'mo. Shit...that woman was...she was Damian's mom. The current leader of the mighty
League of Assassins.

After brief inspection, Brooklyn realized she could see the resemblance. Damian may have
received his father's raven hair and passive face, but this woman had the same emerald eyes
Brook found had herself admiring more and more in Damian as time passed.

The sight of such eyes had Brooklyn remembering she was away from home, from the twin
emerald eyes that brought her comfort instead of unease as Talia's did. It had been four days
in which Damian might still be frantic over her disappearance, and seeing as she was now
surrounded by more than a dozen assassin guilds, there was no way he'd ever be able to come
to her rescue even if he figured out where she was. But it meant he would be safe.

Brooklyn almost lost track of who she was supposed to be there and then, but ended up
bowing respectfully to the woman with little hesitation, a reverence expected to all leaders of
assassin guilds. Even if she despised doing so before the woman who had gladly let her son
suffer through assassin training, revealing her true self now would've ended up in nothing
short of death by the hands of two assassin royals.

Unlike Ivan's heavy Russian accent, the woman's voice carried a different kind of thickness,
voice smooth like honey as she mused, "I remember you speaking of her once, saying this
young girl showed great promise to take over your empire. It's about time I meet the heiress
of the Red Room, long overdue actually"

Brooklyn had no clue she'd once been the topic of conversation amongst such powerful
people, and she could only hope it had nothing to do with the abilities from the Tesseract.
She'd been waiting for Ivan to bring that up during their leisurely walk, to question whether
she knew of the presence of her unnatural abilities brought forth by the work of his scientists.

But Ivan hadn't brought it up. Not once.

There was also something about being addressed as Ivan's successor that....it was plain awful.
Here she was not Brooklyn Stark, not Brook. Here she had no name of her own save for an
assembled five cruel numbers...just a title imbued with a cruel duty. One she should start
pretending to be grateful for.

"It's an honor to meet you Talia al Ghul. Your skills and ruthlessness are legendary amongst
the assassin community, a true role model for us all" Brooklyn said, voice devoid of all
emotion as she clutched her palms painfully, out of sight from the adults thanks to the fur in
hand.
Brook had not forgotten for a second what Damian's childhood had been like, the snippets
and truths he'd shared with her and the scars across his body from the cruel treatment...and
this woman deserved to pay for it. Somehow, it was harder to hold back her anger from the
woman than it was to do so from Ivan. Because it didn't matter what Ivan had done to Brook,
at least not nearly enough as it was to avenge Damian. Yet Brooklyn held it together, kept her
mask in place under the scrutiny of the two most powerful assassins to date.

Talia nodded in acknowledgment of her overloaded praise, and when she turned to Ivan, the
two began to discuss something about weapons and the arrangement of assassin forces, only
confirming what Brook had been speculating since she began this little walk.

The guilds were not at war with one another, not assembled to settle some sort of dispute or
to finally decide who was the best of the lot. They were getting ready for a war, the boxes
they sent that day of the Yule Dance had not been a taunt or a lie after all. It had been a
warning, plain and simple.

Question was, who exactly were they fighting?

After working out veiled logistics, Talia's gaze shifted to examine Brooklyn with a
scrutinizing gaze that the Stark didn't even flinch from. She'd long ago grown used to the
glares from the woman's son, used to the intensity of them and shifting them into a
comforting weight atop her soul. Brook was practically immune by now. But there was
something else in her gaze, a type of curiosity that made Brooklyn feel like a novelty in the
worst way possible.

"My father spoke of seeing you fight once, the day he took my son to see the Red Room. He
said you were a true gem amongst the other trainees, worthy of your future title" Talia said to
Brooklyn, who was almost startled out of her acting by the mere mention of Damian.

He'd been to the Red Room once? That was certainly news to her, and Damian had never
mentioned it.

Brook replied cordially, "I'm afraid I don't recall meeting the great Ra's al Ghul, my
condolences for his loss...nor do I recall meeting the next heir of the League"

The woman showed no grief at the mention of her father, she merely placed a hand on the hilt
of the katana hanging by her waist.

"You wouldn't be able to," Ivan added, "I believe you were less than a year old at the time,
and the visit was a secret affair"

That meant that years ago when Brooklyn was barely starting to learn how to walk and kill
simultaneously, she and Damian had been in the same building without even realizing it.
Neither knowing that the positions and the origins that separated them then would become
nothing but bothersome strings that wouldn't be able to keep them apart from one another.

"Speaking of which," Ivan said, looking around the courtyard lazily, almost tauntingly,
"Where is your son, Talia?"
Brook tried not to flinch or show any recognition, holding herself back form saying the word
Gotham with genuine sorrow at the thought of her best friend being so far away...but
ultimately being glad he was safe from all this.

Turned out, she was wrong. So wrong.

A figure emerged from the wooden doors before Brooklyn, clad in the same ensemble of
armor as those from the League, but wearing the same blood red cape as Talia that dragged
along the stone floors. His face was impassive, those emerald eyes cold and calculating as
they focused on those passing by went to their knees in reverence. Brooklyn tried as hard as
she could not to panic, to scream out in both joy and worry as she beheld a poised Damian
walking towards them, katanas strapped to his hips, pointed black boots leaving prints on the
snow-covered floor.

When Damian beheld the figures behind his mother, he too seemed to be fighting back his
own surprise as he approached, emotions that only she was able to work out within his blank
stare. When their eyes interlocked, green to brown, it almost felt like she'd be knocked back
from the force alone.

Brook had no idea what Damian was doing here, how he'd arrived. Never mind that he
looked so different from the teen she knew, every inch the cruel and merciless heir to the
League, no visible trace of the Wayne who kept a sketchbook at hand, who cherished his dog
and preferred a classy turtle neck over gold-imbued armor. His onyx hair were brush back
nearly without a single lock of out place, that and his brows looking darker than usual amidst
the snow. It may be the role he was playing, but he taller than she remembered, the elegant
armor creating the illusion of broader shoulders.

Damian could very well be another person entirely in that moment. Then again, Brooklyn
was certain she didn't exactly look herself either, what with the expressionless face, blank
eyes, and layers of Russian attire.

It was as if 10452 was properly meeting Damian al Ghul since their first meeting before
either had turned a year old. Two heirs now standing before one another, forced to be nothing
but strangers to one another, enemies standing on opposite ends of an invisible line reinforced
by the adults by their sides.

The birth marks were still there in their familiar spots across his face though, Damian's
familiar frown a small comfort. When two masked assassins moved to stand behind him, for
protection of their heir no doubt, he sent away with a mere wave of his hand. Brook didn't
miss the way Talia looked at him...not with pride, but something like smugness at his being
there.

As Damian stood beside his mother, Brooklyn could vaguely note the change in his usual
frown that meant he was annoyed as he bowed to Ivan.

It was then that Brooklyn realized this may very well be another test. Why seek out Talia and
her son now of all times? Ivan had admitted to keeping an eye on Brook for a while, meaning
he had to know Damian and her went to the same school. Though she wanted nothing more
than to rush over and crush Damian into a relieved hug...she made sure to look slightly
disgusted, an action expected from Black Window towards a member of the League of
Assassins.

She couldn't let the two leaders know the secret bond between the two teens, she couldn't risk
her cover with even a hidden smile. She could only play the game, avoid falling into Ivans
traps now that a greater loss was at hand. With Damian here, she couldn't afford to fail.

"Wayne?" Brooklyn said incredulously while still remaining passive in her expressions,
"You're part of the League?"

At first Brooklyn was worried Damian might believe she was there of her own free will, that
the trust they had built over the past few months would vanish in seconds. But even though
he schooled his face to match her disgust, Brook could tell he was acting thanks to the school
play they once had to partake in together. She recognized the near untraceable effort it took
for him to allow another personality in.

Damian scoffed her way, playing along perfectly like the synchronized team they'd grown to
be.

"Obviously. You're part of the Red Room it seems" Damian replied coldly as he looked down
at her, making a show of sheathing one of his katanas, "I should've known you were so
unpleasant for reasons other than being a filthy Stark"

Talia and Ivan frowned between one another, but didn't fight. It was clear Damian knew how
to push buttons too, distracting the adults with insults between guilds to hide what truly
mattered.

"You know one another?" Ivan inquired. A foolish question.

Brooklyn ignored the gusts of billowing wind as she shifted her gaze towards Ivan, face calm
and carefully still showing some disgust as she explained a web of truths and lies that would
serve as a good cover for them if there was indeed someone that ha tracked both heirs to the
same city.

"Starks and Waynes are rival families," she said smoothly with a hint of a Russian accent to
make her position by his side more believable, "I've had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing
that Wayne from time to time, but I never cared enough about him to notice there were
secrets he kept"

Damian scoffed as if her words were poison to his ears. An arrogant dismissal.

"In that case, let me introduce you to my heir properly. This is Damian al Ghul, grandson to
the Demon's Head" Talia said to Brooklyn. A tactical choice to showcase the strength and
future of her own guild.

She'd called him an al Ghul, not Wayne. A near meaningless difference that somehow
spanned miles in her mind.
Brook supposed that last name would not be welcome at a place like this, not when it was
associated with a wealthy man funding many anti-crime organizations. Talia was likely the
only one that knew the last name was also associated with the Batman himself, and even
greater nuisance in the eyes of their people no doubt. She supposed the same could be said of
the last name Stark, no doubt why Ivan introduced her without it.

"I was just showing 10452 the layout of the base until supper begins tonight. Hopefully our
interactions will be quite limited from now on, at least until the big show tomorrow" Ivan
said, once again reminding Brooklyn that she had no real name here.

Talia nodded, not caring about disrespect as she moved past them towards the courtyard at
the same time Ivan chose to leave. Ivan only walked a few steps before making a hand
gesture for Brook to follow, and Talia only stoped her own steps to tell her son to follow
before shouting orders in Arabic at those training around her. Damian only hesitated a second
before following, not breaking his act for a second as he brushed past Brook's side, the fabric
of his rouge cape kissing the fabric of her thick coat. Neither teen dared to lock eyes and they
walked in separate directions, each following their respective leaders of pasts they'd both
wished to leave behind.

Brooklyn hated to see Damian go, worried something might happen to him seeing as they
were surrounded by too many enemies. Still, she could do nothing more than to follow Ivan
as he showed her the large expanse of the temporary 'base' he claimed had served well to
gather all assassin guilds comfortably.

She tried to ask subtly where they were, but Ivan merely mentioned it was somewhere no one
would ever find them. He also spent some time complaining about the al Ghuls, almost the
way dad would of a Wayne. Brook was once again in a position in which she had to pretend
to hate Damian, only for completely different reasons. Here there wasn't Stark/Wayne rivalry,
but two enemy guilds the teens were heirs of.

She could only nod along as she was guided back to her room with the promise of a feast and
answers to quell her troubled mind later. It was in the relative darkness of the room that
Brook finally sighed in exhaustion, huddling close to the dying fire as the metal door closed
around her. Though she didn't hear any locks, there was no mistaking the two shadows before
her door...either to keep her in, or to keep her safe from any guilds that might think to forego
this odd peace agreement. Of that Brook couldn't be sure.

In the off chance meant Ivan didn't trust her completely yet, Brook decided it wasn't a good
idea to go seek out Damian at the moment. All she could do was hope to see him tonight, that
he'd be just as guarded, and that his own mask would hold. Brooklyn could only hope he was
doing better than she was in terms of proving his loyalty.

This all felt like an entirely different life, and she soberly wondered when it had all gone so
wrong.

At least now she had a new mission to get two people off this place, because Brooklyn would
not step out of this cursed island unless Damian was by her side. There was no alternative, no
version of this where she would leave her supposed 'enemy' to the wolves.
Though she was not one to scatter faith in too many directions, she also hoped that Damian's
family was looking for him, or that her own had figured out her absence. Either one of those
scenarios might make a rescue more attainable, and if her family was the one that showed,
Brooklyn would fight tooth and nail to ensure Damian was not left behind even if it meant
admitting the truth of things to her own dad.

At the very least, Brook hoped this would end with the two out of the island safely, because
this was a far greater threat than Brook had ever faced, and the odds were not looking too
good. They were abysmal.
 The Banquet of Death
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Brooklyn POV-

Brook did her best not to fidget from her place seated at one of the raised tables meant to
serve as places of honor. Each leader of a guild was given a table for them, their families, or
those notable ranks of command. It had still come as a slight shock when Ivan had asked her
to sit by his side at the table between two hourglass banners. She'd had little choice but to
agree, yet Brooklyn deeply regretted her decision not to fight the command as soon as she
realized all the other Black Widows were seated behind them.

One of them could easily kill Brook, stab her in the back in seconds. A chilling realization.

Yet, no one had moved to attack anyone in the boisterous room, mostly, each guild kept to
themselves. No one stood in the middle of the rectangular room to interact with others, nor
did they bother visiting tables that weren't their own. It spoke volumes of the frail alliances in
place, the lack of trust between one another only held in place by an incoming war Brooklyn
knew nothing of.

Like all places in this secret hide out, the building she was currently in looked run down and
old from the outside, but inside, the place was lavishly decorated with only the finest
polished furniture, a warm series of fires for warmth lit in the corners of the room, and so
many jade accents on the roof and columns that Brook wondered just who owned the place.

It certainly wasn't Ivan.

The food had been brought out by servants of each guild, and for the raised tables, one
servant took a bite of each individual's meal to check for poison. After a few minutes of panic
in which Brooklyn worried for the blank faced man before her, she was relieved to see no
one's food had been tampered with. Odd...the assassins must have some semblance of unity if
no one was taking this monumental chance to kill off competition. After that odd silence in
which everyone had been waiting for some servant or another to drop dead, conversation
picked up again and Brooklyn was able to dig in to the vegetable stew before her.

The one good thing about her seating arrangement, was that Brooklyn was seated across the
room from the League of Assassins. Whoever had decided the seating chart for this was
either a complete idiot or had a thirst for bloodshed. It didn't take long to notice that each
guild was seated across from their personal 'enemy' without fail. But Red Room and League
of Assassins were not only enemies with masked pleasantries, but by the looks of it, still the
two most powerful guilds even when they both suffered heavy downfalls a few years ago.

Those two tables were not only before one another, but they were situated in the middle of
the room. A place of honor.
Across the span of a small dance floor, Brooklyn took a peek at the table with the green and
gold table cloth, assassins with ninja-like outfits and black capes behind it. Damian was
seated next to his mom the way Brook was beside Ivan, clad in his armored attire from
earlier, looking every bit a ruthless leader amidst deadly assassins. He ate with little care of
anyone or anything, except if anyone from another nearby table looked his way, Dami shot
them his signature glare that had them looking anywhere else but at his green eyes.

Had this been a different circumstance, she might've found it funny.

Brook wasn't dumb enough to be so careless as to catch his attention, being seated next to
Ivan was giving her enough anxiety as it was. Yet, the teen knew she'd have to make a plan to
change that soon, because this was currently her only foreseeable chance to try and talk to
Damian about an escape plan, or possibly a way to stop whatever was going on.

At the very least, her nerves were eased by the fact that Damian looked unharmed.

Though his League attire obscured much of his skin, the bloodless katanas on his back that
were barely concealed by the red cape that pooled behind him as he sat crosslegged before
his table were a good sign no one had made an attempt on his life. He looked just as he had
that morning.

Brooklyn wished she had been given the option to stay in her attire from earlier as well,
mostly because she could've kept the letter opener in her fur boot without trouble. But Ivan
had always been a stickler for elegance, often saying that clothes and appearances were
weapons too.

An espionage way of thinking.

Beside her, the man looked positively relaxed, eyeing those in the room with careful subtlety.
Always watching, always plotting. Ivan himself had changed into a long coat of the thinest
fine fabric with embroidered bear on the back, one standing on its hind legs looking ready to
attack. For Brooklyn, he'd sent a few servants to her room an hour before the meal was
scheduled. Brooklyn had to climb down from the ceiling where she'd been trying to get
through the opened sun latch.

The three quiet women didn't stare at Brooklyn too long, as if they thought she'd beat them
for it. They displayed a long robe of rich silk from the east no doubt, heavily embroidered
and sewn with pearls and precious gems. It was still heavy enough to shield from the cold,
but it had no room for hiding weapons. Though Brook had holsters for daggers at the sides of
the robe, she'd yet to be given a weapon at Ivan's mercy. Even now during the meal, she was
still defenseless with only her seemly inconspicuous vibranium bracelets to at least bring
some sort of comfort.

The headpiece was something an empress would wear in Russia, but it was warm and
shielded her heavily make-up filled face from the falling snow outside. It was red like the rest
of her outfit, aligned with golden accents that even the kokoshnik headpiece was embroidered
in.
Brook had swallowed her pity as she beheld the women with the sewn-shut mouths work her
hair, straightening it thoroughly for half an hour. Ivan had seemed pleased with the attire's
final ensemble, had spent the whole way over explaining that some royal or another had worn
those robes, which he'd likely come to posses by thievery or at the expense of someone's life.

He had not explained where they were though, Ivan had not even divulged information of
what was happening here to begin with or why the most deadly assassins in the world had all
gathered now of all times. Brook had even debated asking why he'd hired the Joker to spread
the alien weapons when it could've been done more subtlety and successfully by some of his
own spies. All he'd cared to discuss was her return, even mentioning that since Yelena was
putting up a front as well, that perhaps she too would be brought back eventually.

That had made Brook's heart sink.

If Ivan brought her back, Yelena would still suffer a punishment for failing her mission. She'd
never get to smile the way she did with Jon, in fact, Yelena would probably never see him
again since Ivan would just have her do assassin work at his leisure if she was not killed.
She'd be nothing but a disposable foot soldier like the girls Brooklyn had killed that morning,
and Brooklyn would be helpless to help.

Now, seated at the table, Brooklyn couldn't help but wish that someone had noticed her and
Damian's absence. The other part of her mind was actually wishing for the opposite, because
if they did find her, the Avengers would be coming into an assassin hotspot. Even though
they were very skilled, Brook wasn't sure if they could defeat all of these assassins, not to
mention the alien weapons they no doubt possessed.

Maybe it would be best not to be found for their safety, for Yelena's too.

That saddening thought was quelled when the meal was finally finished. Brook feared that
would mean going back to her room, but then she noticed the mingling going about at last.
No enemy guilt interacted with one another, but the room became so cluttered with people
that it might just give Brook the chance she was looking for.

Ivan took her to meet various leaders of other guilds, holding conversations on things such as
preferred weapons, espionage expertise, kills...basically things Brooklyn never thought she'd
have to discuss at a gathering now that she was so used to the dull galas where money and
investments were the hot topics she'd now mastered. He paraded her around, boasting of her
skills and her return to his side. All sickening topics.

Her golden opportunity came when Ivan became very preoccupied discussing some exchange
of resources with the guild leader of the famed Chinese assassins. Seeing as the Ten Rings
didn't much care for women, refusing to train them, Brooklyn was quick to become invisible
before their presence. Brook had excused herself to go to the lavatory once she caught sight
of Damian across the room, his gaze on her. Ivan had cared little of her absence, but Brook
had no doubt that if she took too long, he'd send someone look for her.

The giant ballroom hall was closed anyways, with guards at all entrances. Ivan let her be only
because there was no way she could possibly escape, of that she was certain. Not that he was
expecting her to attempt an escape anyways.
Brooklyn seamlessly weaved past the masses of people, ignoring the salutes of the Red Room
assassins as she finally found a dark and empty hallway upstairs on the second floor of what
she realized now was more of an ancient amphitheater.

When Damian peeked around the corner, Brook almost let out a sigh of relief. She didn't
hesitate to rush over to him, smiling when she saw him pick up the pace toward her as well.
Damian spread out his arms to welcome her embrace that almost knocked them down on the
floor, but neither seemed to cared in that moment. Brooklyn hugged him with vigor, not
caring about the armor around his body as she brought him closer, as she stood on her toes to
clutch his face between her hands. To her relief, Damian was just as frantic as she felt,
running his hands along the scars on her back, his green eyes devoid of that seriousness form
downstairs. He was still there.

"How did you get here?" Brook whispered into his hair as she brought him back into an
embrace, arms winding greedily around his neck.

"There wasn't a trace of you when I went to find you at home, then before I could begin a
proper search, my mother came to summon me for this meeting. I knew it was my way to
find information on where you might be since many guilds were involved and I could use
their resources to search for you anywhere in the world, but I had no idea that you'd actually
be here. If I had known, I would've looked around these past three days" Damian replied,
smoothing back her hair, throwing the regal headpiece down to the floor when it got in his
way. As if he too despised the meaning behind it, of who she was forced to stand beside.

Brook didn't care, not when Damian was here, after he'd admitted to trying to find her upon
the first signs of her absence. Thought the school gathering felt like yesterday to her, she was
glad he didn't look upset anymore, none of their useless spats mattered now as she hugged
him tight to her body. The relief she felt could've been enough to bring Brooklyn to her
knees, and though she wanted to hate him for putting his life in danger, she just couldn't.

They stayed like that for a while, embracing in a dark hallway far from view of any prying
eyes. Eventually, both seemingly aware of their limited time, the two parted only enough to
bring their forehead together, still locked in one another's arms in a way no one downstairs
would believe.

"We need to get out of here as soon as possible, beloved. The tracker we put in my katanas
was discovered by mother, she removed it on our way here and has kept it on her so I can't
activate it. Earlier when I was looking for your room, I heard from one of Ivan guards that
they disabled your tracker too. They think your father forced it upon you" Damian whispered,
their noses touching, "Mother hasn't told me why everyone has gathered, but I have a feeling
its something big"

Brooklyn nodded, trying to push down the relief and joy she felt at being here with him
despite the knowledge that help was likely not coming now. It was better that way, would
keep others safe, or so she repeated into her mind like a mantra.

"Ivan hasn't said anything either," Brook confessed, "Do you know where we are at least?"
Damian shook his head, running his hands up and down her back soothingly just as she was
unconsciously doing along his neck and shoulders.

"Mother's made sure I remained unaware when we left Gotham, but we took a flight on a
standard jet. I estimate for about two to three hours away from home," he said, "meaning we
could be anywhere in the country, even in Mexico or Canada"

True. Not only were they far from home, but the expanse of water around the island was not
promising for an escape. But Damian had noticed some of the guilds had come via
submarines, the stealthy kind meant to work better against being identified by Atlantians.
Some even had high tech boats. If they could steal one of those, not only would they be
invisible from the underwater dwellers, but also the guilds. They could report back to their
parents and they could all decide what to do about his.

Even Brooklyn wasn't foolish enough as to suggest putting a stop to this themselves.

Seeing as they were both pressed for time, they had little chance to just talk or relish in the
fact that even though they were both stuck here for now, they were at least together. Instead
they got to work, deciding to flee tomorrow morning while everyone was busy training. They
knew better than to leave things to luck, so they made a plan A and B, then for good measure
a C and D. If they'd had the time, the two would've probably gone through the whole alphabet
just to be safe. Thankfully, Damian had been able to scout the island these past three days,
knew of some rarely used hallways and even noted the rotations of the various guards around
the perimeter of the docks.

Though it had been a few minutes already, Brooklyn couldn't help herself from taking up a
bit more time to embrace Damian again, basking in the sight of his true self before they both
had to put on their masks. He didn't break away the way someone of his reluctance to touch
would, but rather pressed her closes, both begging the other to be careful amidst forbidden
whispers.

Neither of them were big on begging, but for this...for this instance they both relented.

Here and now, they weren't dealing with weapons or second rate criminals. This was Talia
and Ivan after all. Brooklyn wished more than anything that she could stay by Damian's side
to keep him safe, but in this case, their closeness was their greatest danger to one another. If
they were ever seen within two feet of one another, anyone would expect it to mean an
incoming fight, and soon both of their respective guilds would attack without mercy.

"Just stay on the down-low," Damian whispered with a desperation she rarely heard from
him, "Trust me, there is nothing I want more than to kill Ivan for all he's done to you, but if
playing along to his expectations is what keeps you alive...then do it"

Some of her control faltered for a second...memories of this morning fresh in her mind.

Brook had never found it easy to speak about taking a life, in fact, she'd only ever fully
discussed such matter with Damian but by then they had both sworn never to kill again. If she
told him what happened, would he judge her for it? Looking up at his handsome gaze,
Brooklyn couldn't find it in herself to push that sense of safety and calm away. Damian
always managed to do that...bring her to an environment where she never felt judged, even
when her emotions for him had changed to something more, that feeling of understanding
had only evolved.

So despite their fleeting moments of peace, she whispered to him of what she'd done, what
the price of playing along had meant for her.

"I don't think I can do it again if he asked," Brook whispered, burying her face in the juncture
between his neck and armor, "I can't take another life like that..I just...I can't"

Damian's hands shifted to cup her cheeks, wiping the tear running down one of them and
caressing the injuries on her face from the fight in Queens, ones that were covered by makeup
but he somehow knew were there.

There was not pity or anger visible on his face, only that blessed understanding.

"It won't get to that," he promised, "We leave tomorrow and put this behind us. Rest assured
that one day, Ivan will pay for all his sins, I promise you that...we just need to hold on a little
longer"

Brook nodded, repeating his words in her head, treating them like a new mantra to keep sane
and strong. They couldn't afford weaknesses right now, not here.

Before going back downstairs, Damian waited until her breathing had evened out to turn his
head to kiss both the palms she had across his cheeks, even when he knew they had been
stained with blood this morning. When their foreheads joined and their breathing mingled
between them, Brooklyn could've sworn for a second that Damian was about to...to kiss her.
But that was a foolish hope, because he would never feel as she did, and even if he did he'd
never reveal it during a situation like this.

Brook still waited a few precious seconds, pondering if something would happen, if the
euphoric feeling from the mall and the club would return when their lips met again. But it
never did, Damian never closed the gap. Instead she leaned to kiss the tip of his nose with a
promise to see him soon and that they would return home no matter what.

Grabbing her headpiece from its place discarded on the floor, Brooklyn reluctantly put it back
in place. Smoothing out her silk robe before making to go back downstairs, deeply aware
Damian was left standing at the end of the hall in the darkness that had kept them company.

An hour later, the two teens were back at their tables while everyone was for some sort of
meeting or toast now that alcohol had been served. By some miracle, Ivan had not questioned
her absence, merely introduced her to more people as his prized pupil until this so-called
meeting was put in order. He'd whispered to her once they were seated, promising this would
be the fun part of the night. She had expected something along the lines of entertainment like
music or dancing, but instead, Ivan stood up from his chair with glass of vodka raised high in
the air as every other assassin quieted down with their own preferred alcohol in hand.

Again, had this been a different circumstance, Brooklyn might've laughed at the fact that
Damian had not touched his wine once, as if the memory of his drunken state remained like
an engraved warning in his head. What she wouldn't do to regain those silly moments devoid
of this pressure...

Ivan looked around the room slowly, glass raised as he said in the universal assassin
language, "We have all gathered these past few days for something historic, an event the
world has never seen before. Tonight, we celebrate our unity for this great mission, a war
that will shake the foundations of this world and finally bring us out from hiding in the
shadows"

Many assassins raised they glasses at that, all the Red Room members certainly did, which is
why Brook raised her own as well even when she had no clue what was happening.

"Tonight, we toast to the new technology from space that has given us the power to enact a
war agains those who seek to stop us, the so called heroes of this world. With our numbers
and weapons, soon the world will bow at our feet, and everyone who has tried to stop
us...will be silenced indefinitely"

The room stood up, shouts of merriment and determination so loud that they made the
candelabras above shake. Brooklyn looked around the room in horror as she realized the
thousands of people gathered were screaming for the death of the Avengers, the Justice
League, even some against the Gotham vigilantes.

Some called dibs on who they would kill, all voiced with such anger and vigor that Brooklyn
tried not to tremble in her seat.

I will rip out Iron man's heart!

That Amazonian sword will hang on my wall!

The body of Captain America will sell well on the black market!

Death to the aliens! I'll make sure to carve up Superman!

The Bat of Gotham will be hanged by my hand!

So much shouting in too many languages, such violence...it was a horrific sight.

Behind her, the Red Room was shouting animately for the deaths of SHIELD, the ones who
tried to get rid of them almost nine years ago. By extension of that 'crime', many wanted the
Avengers dead too. It was sickening to hear the ways in which people wanted to kill her
family, and it almost made Brook throw up the three-course meal she'd just eaten, but then
she realized she couldn't debate against it or punish those who wished her dad dead in the
most horrible of ways.

Brook and Damian frantically locked eyes across the chaos of the room while the shouting
and cheering continued. Though both their faces looked passive and uncaring, they could
both see the horror hidden deep within. This was worst than they had imagined. No wonder
all these guilds were gathered here without killing one another...they had a greater enemy in
mind.
The two teens couldn't possibly leave knowing almost a hundred thousand assassins were
planning an attack, but they also couldn't take them on either, that was suicide. They were
trapped in more ways than one.

Brooklyn watched as Talia whispered something to her son then, hand on the metal armor of
his shoulder as she explained something, likely atoning why Damian's father deserved to die
as the screams demanded. To his credit, Damian didn't react, his mask didn't falter even as
distant screams for the deaths of his siblings' alter egos joined the mix.

The hall only quieted when Ivan raised a hand. Everyone looked to him then, waiting for him
to continue, wanting to hear the end of his glorious toast.

Surprisingly, his gaze moved from the away from crowds and down to Brooklyn where she
sat motionless on her chair. He extended out a hand for her to take, and though she despised
the thought of touching him, Brook allowed him to help her up from her seat. Now those
thousands of pairs of eyes were locked on her.

"That is not the only reason we are gathered here," Ivan said, voice echoing across the large
space and hand still clutching her own, "This is my chance to introduce you to my heiress"

Nonexistent gods above, no...

Now Ivan was going to present her like a trophy before the criminal world, really? What was
the point of that other than to brag and steal the spotlight for a little longer? Brooklyn was
starting to work out the beginnings of a speech should Ivan ask her to say a few words, but
then Ivan's gaze suddenly turned into something darker, and for a second...Brook thought he
might ask he to kill someone, to prove her loyalty to them all.

But there ended up being no point in that, because apparently, Brooklyn didn't even have him
fooled in the first place.

"I want you all to meet the foolish girl who betrayed me, betrayed the man who gave her a
purpose in life" Ivan announced, making her stomach sink all the way to the Earth's core.

It was like a pin dropped in a quiet room, because all the gazes of the assassins around her
turned darker. The guards meant to protect her and Ivan suddenly clutching her arms harshly,
and even though she tried to fight them, the masked men still dragged her to the center of the
large room, shoving her harshly to the ground on her knees.

Brooklyn fought the hands on her shoulder-blades and arms keeping her down, preventing
her from to turning to Ivan to state her innocence with a clever lie. She was only momentarily
turned around upon his command, and she found that Ivan's darkened gaze was already on
her, silver eyes hard and unwavering, then vodka raised in hand long forgotten. Or perhaps
not, maybe the toast was in honor of this, her death.

"You see, this ungrateful little girl is one of those self-proclaimed heroes. She is a Stark, by
choice nonetheless"
Gasps were heard all around the room, assassin's hands moving to their weapons, deadly
grins forming on their faces for those who dared show how much they wanted Brook dead
now that she became undesirable number one on their list.

Before her, Damian looked as if he might stand attack the guards holding her down, luckily
not raising suspicions since anyone could mistake that anger for the League heir wanting his
enemy, the traitor, as dead as they all did. She sent Damian a quick glance to stand down,
there were too many people for him to fight and they both knew it.

Behind her, Ivan shouted anew, "This little spider killed her own people when we were
attacked by SHIELD years ago. She broke the assassin code, her vows, when she chose to
become an American agent, one of the people that destroyed her home"

One of the hands atop her shoulder was pressing painfully then, but Brooklyn was too busy
watching as everyone suddenly stood up from their seats to register the pain. Their faces
blank as they waited for judgement, too much cruelty directed her way to the point that it felt
stifling.

"For that were are gathered here, to enact justice, to punish. Let the so called Brooklyn Stark
serve as an example to everyone in this room not to defy us, that there are consequences for
disloyalty," Ivan spat, "We stand united for the first time in history, and if anyone was
pondering betrayal for self-gain, then let her punishment tomorrow serve as a reminder that
such acts will be met with the most unimaginable of horrors. For these crimes, we find you
guilty, little spider. For that, you are sentenced to death"

Brooklyn heard as the room burst into hummed agreements, eager for fresh blood to be
spilled...for Brooklyn to die.

Had Ivan known all along that she'd been lying? What had given her away? But most
importantly...how the hell was she supposed to get out of this?

Before Damian could do something stupid, she sent him another scathing glare, one easily
mistaken as defiance on her part. Her best friend looked as if he might ignore her and do
something that would get them both killed trying to defend one another, but then Ivan spoke
up again, his voice louder than before.

A call for bloodshed.

"Let the daughter of Iron Man be the firs to taste out fury! Let her blood serve as our
declaration of war!"

Everyone began to cheer and scream then, adding her name to those of her family and the
other heroes. Only to make things worse, they didn't condemn her as a hero, but rather as
nothing but a traitor to them.

Brooklyn was dragged to her feet then, two Widows rushing forward to punch her in the gut,
knocking the air from her lungs. As the room cheered, Brook received a few blows to the
face, one right on her injured lip. Many began cursing at her in their tongues, others outright
promised to bathe in her blood as she was dragged towards the entrance of the room. Leaving
their tables, everyone gathered around her retreating form, only making way for Ivan to pass
with Brook held in tow as cutlery was thrown at her body, some daring assassin even moving
forwards to rip her headpiece off, others clawing off pieces of her silk robe as she passed.

The blows to her body had weakened Brooklyn enough that with the two large women
holding her in place, she couldn't fight back.

The last thing she did was look back one last time into the room, her gaze off to the left side
where she noticed Damian was left alone, standing at his raised table above the sea of
crowds. No one was looking his way, which was a good thing considering the visible her
horror across his face as he beheld her retreating form, it was unlike anything Brook had ever
seen.

Brooklyn was too far to say something to him, immobilized enough that she could do nothing
but stare blankly at Damian until the large doors of the hall closed behind her. Leaving the
blood thirsty crowds inside with him.

Someone placed something atop her face then—a sac of some sort—and when it was
removed, Brooklyn found herself in a dark cell. If her mental step count was right as well as
her orientation, then that meant Brook was somewhere under the large coliseum.
Underground like back in the Red Room. The two assassins quickly moved Brook further
into the small cell where there were long chains hanging on the roof, which they used to cuff
her. It would've been relatively fine, had she not been raised off the floor. Once her feet were
left hanging, the burn and strain in her arms from her own body weight was enough for her to
groan in annoyance. She'd been trained against torture, still remembered it, but that didn't
mean Brook was immune from it forever.

Ivan watched unbothered from the entrance as the two assassins were given the green light to
to treat Brook as they punching bag until a woman in a white robe came inside. The room
was too dark for Brooklyn to notice the details of her face, but It quickly became apparent
that she was holding equipment to...to take Brook's blood.

Not as a means of torture, or so she realized with a chilling sinking of her stomach.

Ivan smiled as Brook tried to kick the woman, earning her a punch right on the ribs from one
of his new muscled guards that made their way into the room. Gorilla #1 seemed awfully
pleased with himself when the teen fought back a guttural scream. Son of a bitch...

"Why kill me?" she asked Ivan, who remained leisurely by the door, "You have no proof I
defied you, that what I said was a lie. I told you it was all a front to avenge you! Is that not
what you wanted from me? To get close to them?"

Ivan smirked, but refused to reply.

Time to use the excuse of her abilities then...a most unsavory last resort.

"You want my blood for the...power right? What if it doesn't work? What if you need me
alive? It seems pretty dumb to try and kill me with so many unknowns in the air" she said,
trying to sound calm as she spoke despite bargaining for her life.
Ivan stepped forward then, just as Gorilla 1 and Gorilla 2 held her legs together, the other
Widows keeping her arm from moving as the lady set the needle to collect her blood. The
pain was minuscule, barely important as Ivan stood inches from her.

His eyes were dark as he chuckled, brining a hand to squeeze her cheeks painfully.

"You don't think I've seen you all this time, seen the genuine happiness in your eyes? That is
not easy to fake," Ivan said, English accent heavier than before due to his fueled anger as he
added, "I'm the one who taught you to lie, and I never taught you that well, little spider. Now
that I have your blood, I don't need your body or your last name. A shame since you always
were my favorite, such potential wasted...all because someone developed a little dream to
play hero"

Brooklyn decided she wouldn't bother with acting anymore, it was useless anyways...so she
spat in his face and then growled back, "You can't kill them, they are stronger than you! Even
if I die tomorrow, Natasha and Yelena will bring and end to you, one so cruel that the devil
will weep"

The needle was yanked harshly from her arm as Ivan wiped the spit off his face, seemly
unbothered by it.

"The heroes won't attack if they think I've kept you alive somewhere as a prisoner. If things
were to fail and I truly was at their mercy, I will use your insignificant existence to make
them hesitate, send them searching around the world for a body that will be destroyed by
tomorrow night. Once they finally start giving up hope, I will hand over whatever is left of
you to Tony Stark as I tell him of how you screamed and suffered for hours, let him beg for
death over the loss of his murderous daughter. Then and only then...will I kill them all"

Brooklyn let out a feral scream, fighting against her chains, even trying to willingly summon
the stupid fire for once in her life to try and kill them all. But all she succeeded in doing was
tiring herself out, enhancing the burn of the arms holding onto all her dead weight as
everyone left her in that cell with the promise of a public execution tomorrow.

As that metal door shut and its sound echoed around her, thats when it finally hit Brooklyn
that she was set to die tomorrow, that her family thought her missing, and Damian was
somewhere above, possibly in as much danger as she was in...

The fear of dying had not hit her yet, assassins didn't fear death, but there was something
gripping her mind into a frenzy.

Regrets. So many regrets.

Brooklyn POV-

Brook had given up trying to break out of the chains long ago, had mournfully realized that
with the vibranium bracelets hidden under her cuffs, that the hopes of any fire to free her
were for naught. She'd tried sleeping, but the burn of her arms was too evident to ignore, yet
her strength had not been depleted enough to pass out against her will. Then again, falling
asleep under those circumstances should be avoided at all times.

Brook knew that if she remained hanging for too long, that eventually she'd start suffocating,
and if she lived she'd be too tired to move or fight against what was coming tomorrow. Either
way, some part of Brooklyn knew that even with all the rest in the world, she wouldn't be
able to fight thousands of assassins or withstand their methods of torture.

This was it...and she really should've seen it coming.

There was that concept Brook learned about in school recently in Calculus, called the
regression to the mean. The teacher had explained it in relevance to life, stating it was a way
of saying that life can't ever be all good or all bad. Eventually things must come back to the
middle. The past few weeks before this, things had been good; she had a wonderful team she
trusted, her stupid cursed abilities were finally under control, and her family and friends were
safe. It was nothing extraordinary sure, but seeing as neither the Joker or anyone else had
tried to kill her during that span of time, that meant things were actually going incredibly
well. As close to normality as she could ever hope for.

That was the middle, but eventually the scale of life had to tip either to something really
good...or really bad.

Seeing as her luck in life had mostly been abysmal, of course the scales would tip towards
something awful. The end of the line.

Brooklyn chuckled weakly at the thought, mourning the fact that she'd never get to beat Peter
to Valedictorian even after her great application of school lessons to real life. She'd never get
to wear the true insignia of an Avenger either, instead of turning into a hero, she'd become
nothing but a martyr. The part of her that had been trained to be stronger than all others, the
one that never failed in anything...that part was mildly disappointed at her foolish end.

Damn it, her arms were killing her.

Just as she was pondering a horrible attempt of acrobatics to bend her body in a way that
might grant her arms relief, Brooklyn heard faint voices on the other side of the door, then a
series of nearing steps. One particular voice was stronger than the others, but it was still
indecipherable, likely due to the thickness of the door. It was a morbid thought in an already
morbid situation, but Brook was willing to wager that the person that had built these prisons
had likely designed them as such to keep screams of tortured victims form being heard.

Brooklyn expected nothing of the distant voices, figured it was just guards making fun of her
situation or trading shifts...but then the door actually opened. Thats when the possibility of
premature torture before her big day became a very real concern, enough that she lifted her
head to try and get a good look at her attacker.

Though the room was still very dark, Brooklyn could recognize the outline of Damian
anywhere. In fact, she was most certain that even across space and time, no matter the limited
visibility of attributes or the faintness of his voice, Brooklyn would always be able to identify
Damian Wayne in a room full of people. Not to mention that red cape of his was also a very
good indicator. That wasn't to say she'd been expecting him.

Brook began to struggle again, wondering how Damian had gotten himself thrown in here so
quickly. She dreaded knowing if he was a prisoner now meant to suffer the same fate as she
was, wanted to close her eyes and block her ears in order to avoid such horrible news entirely.
But she quickly noticed the masked guards behind him were not pushing the teen forward at
all.

Damian turned back to them, voice strong and unwavering as he ordered them in Arabic to
wait outside while he taunted the prisoner for a while, relishing in seeing the insufferable
Stark live out her last moments while knowing her born enemy had won in the end. Both
guards bowed to the waist before closing the door behind them, one of them mentioning they
would come back in ten minutes when the guard rotations changed so Damian wouldn't get
caught.

It wasn't until the door closed and with a deafening echo, the strangers' retreating steps
drifting away, that Damian rushed forward. Unable to lift any limb of her sagging body,
Brooklyn could only watch in vain as Damian frantically tried to break the chains with his
katanas. The only thing she could do was shake her head as each powerful blow produced no
results no matter how desperately he attacked them. Mostly, she was trying to work out why
he'd bothered sneaking in at all.

She knew her bond with Damian was a strong one, that if the roles were reversed she
would've done everything in her power to keep him alive. But despite all their similarities,
she and the Wayne weren't the same in every aspect. Being who he was, Brook had always
assumed he'd be the type to avoid goodbyes in their entirety. he was the type of person to
fight till his last breath, of that there was no question, but in the type of situation in which the
effort and the fighting yielded no results...she'd always assumed Damian would be the kind to
just let go if he couldn't win.

"Damian, you can't break them. Not to mention that even if you could, there are too many
guards outside, I know because I counted them" Brooklyn said, fighting the growing
exhaustion in her voice as he arms rattled with every attack.

Damian merely cursed at the chains, at one point hitting the thick chains harder with both
blades at a time in another feeble attempt as he ignored her words. She knew he'd heard them,
understood the logic within them, but still he refused to give her an immediate answer.

After a few stronger blows with no success, Damian cursed colorfully again, panting heavily
as he tried his luck with the cuffs around her wrist.

"Stop speaking nonsense, if thats the case then we fight out way out. Thats what we always
do, and even when we were enemies, we never left the other behind." he finally said as if
there was no other alternative, using the sharpened ends and hilts of his weapons to try and
produce a result of his liking.

It made her smile softly, a heartbreaking expression she'd once thought incapable of having
months ago.
"We can't. Damian, we don't even know where we are, and I'm a fugitive now who will be
heavily guarded until my execution tomorrow. If anyone finds out you've tried to help me in
any way, then you will be charged with treason too, and as I recall our unofficial pacts of
friendship don't include dual suicide like morons" she said, trying to make him understand in
any way that she could that it was hopeless.

Damian frowned, hitting the chains with his bare fists now, katanas carelessly discarded onto
the damp stone floor as if they meant nothing.

"I don't care, you may have given up on yourself but I have yet to give up on you!" he replied
angrily, clawing at the cuffs with his own nails.

A slight panic seized her then, when Brook finally realized he truly did intend to fight
whatever came their way to try and save her. They had once promised to fight the guilds
should it come to that in order to keep one another safe...but this was different, this wasn't
them at their strongest, with time to scheme and plan a way to win the battle ahead. This may
very well be the weakest they've ever been, the poorest conditions to fight back, and
Brooklyn couldn't let him throw his life away for her sake.

"I'm not asking you to give up, I'm asking you to survive, damn it!" she yelled, about as
strongly as someone like Jon and Peter might do during an argument, but hanging for hours
with injuries had clearly taken its toll both on her voice and in her heart.

Damian scoffed dismissively, eyes frantic when his array of attacks did nothing to the sturdy
metal. Those last hits against them had been nothing but weakened pats as realization dawned
on him. Brook had expected his gaze to dim at the thought of the uselessness of it all, but if
anything, he looked even more determined that before, a fire in his eyes unlike any other.
Something that could rattle mountains and destroy worlds.

Brook's frantic best friend locked eyes with her in the vast darkness as he shouted, "I thought
we were done surviving and daring to live, we agreed as much didn't we!? Plus you know
damn well I've never been one to run and hide, and I'm not about to change now at your
request!"

"Stop thinking about me for a second! Don't you get it, I can't loose you Damian! This path
you're on—no matter how noble— will get you killed and it simply isn't worth it!" she yelled
back, a bit stronger this time. The effort had the injury along her ribs barking in protest.

He moved closer to her then, enough that Brook could clearly see the scowl across his face as
those calloused hands hands began pushing back the messy red locks across her downcast
face as he argued, "You want me to stop thinking about you? You're...you're my best friend!
Its not a title I take lightly, nor something so easily dismissed"

"And you are mine!" Brook bit back, "But you are also Robin, a hero, and it is the duty of
that title to be logical at a time like this. It will do no one any good if we both die tomorrow
when someone needs to warn the heroes of what's coming. You need to be that person so that
our families may be saved, please..."
Damian's sharp and determined eyes bore into her own, his sure to be bruised hands now
pushing back her hair with a delicacy that did not match his earlier tone. It was a slow series
of movements, something meant to soothe, or perhaps categorize something fleeting to
memory. The selfish part of her hoped he did so for the second option, because thats the one
that ensured Damian would live.

It also occurred to her that it had been a long while since they'd argued so strongly, the last
time likely from when they were still enemies thinking they stood on opposite ends of an
invisible spectrum. Since then, the two had never screamed at one another as they just had,
both usually able to solve their differences with clever compromises. It was a shame it had
finally occurred again just as one of them was about to meet their end, but perhaps it was also
a full-circle moment.

They'd began their acquaintance by arguing, it was only fitting they scream at one another a
few times as things came to a close.

Damian seemed to realize the rarity of their arguing, because suddenly his gaze softened, and
his voice turned into a frustrated whisper as he muttered, "You...you can't expect me to
simply watch you die...not when I..."

His gaze shifted to the floor between them, head bowed. Brook's own temper defused at the
sight entirely, exhaustion returning in full force but not enough that she was foolish enough to
waste another second in Damian's company. Especially when she wanted to know everything
he was thinking for once, when there were things between them she'd yet to share.

"You what?" she pressed softly, wishing she could raise his face to look at her again.

Almost as if reading her mind, Damian looked up then. He hesitated with his words, bound
by one of his practically nonexistent losses of speech before clearing his throat and
whispering back, "Nothing. Its not something that should be said here and now, not when I'm
getting you out of here"

Normally, Brooklyn admired Damian's determination, found that to be one of his best
qualities.

But right now was different, because it was the only thing standing between him and death.

"Damian. Don't" Brook said, uncaring she was resorting to begging as she tried to reason
with him. She'd beg a thousand times if needed, because she'd never known what it was like
to live with such fear of loosing another person until then. As a Black Widow since birth,
Brooklyn supposed having such strong and relentless feelings for a person wasn't supposed to
be in the cards to begin with. But now Brooklyn was balancing those feelings blindly without
being able to look away or ignore them, and there was no force on Earth that could dim those
emotions for Damian, especially since he'd snuck in to see her without a thought to his own
safety. That was a kindness most of their kind were never granted.

"You know I'm right" Brook pressed, "We can't escape now without being seen, and one of us
needs to. I'd probably rip your vocal cords out for saying this if the roles were reversed, but
I'm at peace with whats to come, it could be a way to pay for all the deaths I caused. They
want to punish me for not being like them, and I can think of no better end than to die
standing against their beliefs instead of living as an assassin. But I can't die knowing my
family will be hunted down and killed with weapons that are powerful enough for the job. So
please...just do as I ask for once"

Damian shook his head, some of that anger returning as he whispered harshly, "That death
you so loosely speak of, I won't have it, not after all we've been through together. All the time
wasted fighting amongst one another, the long nights saving lives together, the array of
secrets only entrusted to you...I won't have you disappearing from my life just because you
assume its the easiest path. To me, that is the worst path of all, Brooklyn"

"There is no other way..." she replied somberly, "Even you can't fight eighteen assassin
guilds, Damian. And neither can I. Look, I know you think we're the best trained fighters that
ever were, but even we're not invincible"

The two of them had been through so much lately, had been a part of many victories in battles
that it was only normal that they felt untouchable at that point. This was a rather rude
awakening that they were not powerful enough to stop everything, that this was a battle they
could not walk out of together no matter their extensive training or their strength of wills.

He knew it too...Brook knew he did.

Damian moved away from her to punch a nearby wall with an accompanying roar of anger
that didn't stem from the force of impact. That broken sound was just him, the frustrations
and anger within himself. For a second, Brooklyn thought he might argue with her some
more, but then something flickered in his eyes and his fists dropped at last. He'd been too far
away to get a read on him, but whatever it was had disarmed him completely.

His thought process only became apparent when Damian moved to stand before her, as his
legs collapsed on the floor. As the heir kneeled before her, his head was cradled in his
hands...that handsome face turned downcast at the floor.

"Just...please fight, use the powers to get out. I know you swore never to summon them, but
just...use them now," he said, voice soft and barely audible.

Brooklyn had never seen Damian like this, looking so...defeated. It took a second to realize
just as she'd resorted to begging, he'd pushed aside his ego and pride to do the same. She held
back a sob at the sight, fighting the aches in her arms as she beheld his form within the
darkness of the room, eyes locked on the red cape spread across his back and draped over the
dirty floors.

What came next ached her to say, especially because Damian still thought she hadn't tried to
summon the flames yet. Choosing death over them. It was true that Brook despised them, but
she'd made an effort earlier to deal with the despicable force simply because she thought it
would help save his life.

"I can't use the fire, I have the vibranium on me and I don't have the tools to open them. I
know you don't want to hear it and I don't want to say it again, but you have to accept that
there is no other way around this. At least be glad I'll be dying defying the Red Room till the
very end, that I'm dying as someone that chose a better path. I know you don't like where that
path ends, but I have no regrets about the journey, especially since it led me to you"

"I want you to live and defy them a different way," Damian implored, looking up at her from
his place before her, "I've seen my fare share of horrors, far too many to count, but I can't just
stand there and watch as they torture you to death"

Brooklyn understood that. If the roles were reversed...Brooklyn wouldn't have left him either.
But it was unavoidable.

She tried to arrange her numbing wrists to be more comfortable, but she'd only succeed in
exhausting herself further again. Thats when Damian noticed her position in a new kind of
light not clouded by desperation and anger, realizing how tired she must be. He stood up
swiftly, quickly picking up her legs to rest comfortably around his hips, the weight of her
body suddenly off her tired arms.

Brooklyn couldn't help the relieved sigh at the sudden relief for her tired muscles. The cell
itself was cold, and with Damian's armor against her chest the temperatures were somehow
even colder, but Brook didn't mind it one bit as the burning in her arms began to lessen. She
didn't care because having Damian near was a comfort more desirable than warmth.

In this current position, Damian's face was closer than before, his forehead resting on her
own as his arms held her legs in place around his waist for additional support. For a second,
Brooklyn could forget where she was and just basked in the feel of his skin against her own,
the way his lashes brushed against her own, and the fact that some of her last breaths would
be shared with the one person who had understood and known her best.

Though she could've stayed like that for the remainder of their time, it appeared Damian
wasn't done trying to plead his case.

He whispered softly, "The team will—"

"The team will need you," Brooklyn interrupted gently, "and I know that you will help them
become something more, something good. Did I ever mention that Director Fury once told
me that the Avengers were meant to be a group of special individuals brought together to see
if they could become something more, to fight the battles the world could not. Do that for me,
and one day when you're ready, retire and settle down, find some farmhouse full of animals to
care for. I hope you'll open up to others as you have with me, that you'll find someone else to
confide in and...eventually trust with your whole being"

Damian's downcast expression turned sour then, almost as if he were upset.

"You're being cruel and clueless!" he yelled despite their close proximity, "I can't just find
someone like that to 'trust with my whole being', not when you're that person, Brooklyn Stark.
You're the one that wormed her way into my life until you owned my first thoughts in the
morning and my last before I fall asleep. You've seen me at my best and worst and not once
have you looked at me with fear in your eyes as the rest of the people I know have at some
point or another, and you don't seem to grasp how unique of a situation that is! You have
become the fond object of my affection and desire, you and you alone own the key that
guards the vault to the feelings no one else is worthy of, my beloved. No one else is
worthy...no one else is you"

Brooklyn's eyes went wide, her exhaustion long forgotten as she processed his vast words.

Had he meant that in the way she thought he did? Did Damian just admit to having
feelings...for her of all people?

"I know your feelings are reserved for Parker," Damian added, looking like he wanted to
move away but couldn't risk subjecting her to that physical pain, "but I can't keep the secret
from you any longer, even if you will hate me for it. I can't live knowing I've lied to you for
weeks considering we're not in the habit of keeping things from one another, especially with
something of such importance. I know its not logical, that it goes against our families and
better judgement, but the feelings won't go away and...and I don't think I want them to, not
when its you that they're for"

It was like some part of her brain fried into a crisp, her heartbeat picking up as she finally
realized why Damian had left school early and upset the last day she saw him prior to this
mess. Peter had asked her out that night. He had left because he was jealous...because even
now he was certain her array of complex feelings lay with someone else. And what was
somehow worse, Damian had figured out his feelings for her before she could. He'd said it
had been weeks since he hoarded the secret to himself, weeks in which he had accepted them
even though it must've been new and terrifying for him.

Illogical as he called it.

It had taken Brook a while too, more so than she would've liked to admit now that death was
at her doorstep...but now she understood with absolute certainty why Damian was so
important, why he held a special place in her mind, and that the feeling of 'rightness' she
associated with him was actually called something else by everyone in the world. It was a
clear answer, a terrifying one, but perhaps one of the few things in life she was absolutely
certain of.

Brooklyn couldn't help the wide smile that broke across her face, using the remnants of her
energy to move her tired arms so she could cup his cheeks despite the strain of the cuffs. The
pain didn't even register as her fingers met his tan cheeks. Damian stood still then, his
panicked gaze softening when she began caressing her thumbs agains the freckle-like brith
marks she could not see under this lack of light, but had long memorized like the stars
constellations in the sky.

"It took me a while to figure it out too, this oddity in my heart and mind," she admitted softly,
"but you are the person I care about in a way I never thought would be possible. You hold the
key to my heart as well, no one else. My demon. My Damian. You were my enemy, my rival
and nemesis, but you have become my peace, my anchor, and my joy. More than that,
Damian Wayne....you managed to become the person I trust the most in this world, and I am
so beyond glad you bumped into me that day at the gala"

Brooklyn heard Damian's sharp intake of breath as he wound his arms around her back,
caressing her scars as he buried his face in her neck for a second. She pulled their embrace
closer with the legs wound around his middle, relishing his familiar scent of peppermint and
that musky cologne Brook never got the name of.

When he shifted to face her again, they were still locked in their newfound embrace. Their
faces were even closer than before, enough that Brooklyn could see the single tear running
down his left cheek. Damian had once mentioned he'd never cried in his life, likely not since
he was a baby. The fact that he shed a tear now was enough to make Brook shed a few of her
own, tears which transferred onto his own cheeks through the joined valleys of their noses.

"Don't make me watch you die, my beloved. I can't...not after I know you feel the same and
we won't get to see what this feeling beyond friendship is like, not when I only trust you to
experience that with" he whispered.

Brook had to fight back a sob as she replied confidently, even though she felt far from it.

"There is no pain they can enact that I wasn't trained to withstand, remember that. Just make
sure the Red Room gets hell once I'm gone, make sure Ivan pays for what he did to all the
Widows before me"

Damian moved so their noses now rested side by side, their breaths intermingling further.

"We're supposed to be stronger than this!" he whispered, "We always win when we fight
together, this can't be it..."

Brooklyn's hands caressed his nape. "We were unstoppable together, but we aren't invincible,
Dami"

Perhaps they did forget prior to this that they were only human, that there were things
stronger than them, forces they could not win against. But they both knew this was it, at least
for one of them.

The finality of it all reminded Brooklyn the teen before her wasn't the only one she owed
proper goodbyes.

"Tell my dad I wanted to thank him for letting me live as his daughter, and for trusting me to
be his heiress. Thank my mom and my brother for the love they gifted me, for letting me see
what it felt like to have a real mother and to be a sister. Tell the team that being their friend
was probably one of the best things that could've happened to me, they were a big part of me
turning into a worthy hero. And...tell all the Avengers that I wasn't afraid, that they gave me
strength by teaching me the heroic path even when I didn't always want to pursue it. Family
truly was power after all" she whispered, and even though Damian shook his head agains her
own, Brooklyn knew he would deliver the messages when the time came even if it meant
knocking on an enemy door.

As for him, there weren't enough words to articulate a decent goodbye for Damian. She had
no clue what to say to make him move past this one day, to ensure he would be happy in the
days that came after her death. Now that Brook knew he felt the same as she did...it made it
all the harder because she knew no words would ever make her feel better if he was taken
from her.
Instead Brook whispered a soft command into his ear, watched as Damian reluctancy obliged
and removed the thankfully undamaged golden necklace from her person, both of them
looking down at the little golden bridge now in his hands. Perhaps words wouldn't be
sufficient, but hopefully keeping that piece of her would help in some way, serve as a
reminder that he was cared for, trusted, someone who managed to get past a closed off heart
by just being himself.

It wasn't her physical heart, but it was the closest to it that she could hand over to him.

"I don't want to say goodbye to you, not when I practically just found you" Damian
whispered, pocketing the necklace and moving their foreheads back together.

Brook chuckled half-heartedly, fighting her own tears as she replied softly, "Neither do I, but
if you think about it, we've been separated many times already, death's threat standing
between us on more than one occasion. I'm confident that we'll see one another again, even if
we aren't people who believe in faith or lean on hope"

As their eyes locked onto one another, the teens came to a mental agreement that didn't need
words to be understood. Not between them.

Their first kiss had been initiated by Damian at the mall, their second by Brook at the club.
For this last kiss, they both leaned in at the same time, and unlike the frantic passion of the
first two locks of lips...this one was gentle, full of grief but also acceptance of emotions long
denied. Brooklyn sighed contently as Damian's lips met her own, as the two danced with
expertise and utmost care and reverence. She felt as Damian pulled their bodies impossibly
closer to one another, the way his hands wound around her back even tighter as those warm
lips of his refused to part from her own.

The Stark couldn't help but relish in the feeling despite the looming threat of tomorrow.

This felt right, far better than anything else she'd experienced in life especially as Brook tilted
their heads in a manner that deepened their final declaration of emotions. She lazily shifted
her hands from his nape to wind along his raven colored tresses, smiling as he groaned at the
action and ended up elongating their kiss. They were both so lost in their bliss that when a
knock came at the door, Damian hesitated to part from her, holding Brook tightly as if he was
afraid she would disappear.

She instantly knew their time was up, that there would be no time tomorrow to sneak a visit
like this.

Brooklyn kissed him one last time until she was almost void of air. When their plump lips
parted, she and Damian were both left panting, holding one another close as they caressed the
wounds and scars they could find on one another's body. It was a last attempt at comfort,
perhaps even familiarity. Though Brook would like to say her strength was impenetrable, her
heart felt like it sunk to the floor right then and there as their last seconds of undisturbed
peace came to an end.

When the knocks came again stronger than before, the guards shouting in Arabic as they
inquired if Damian was ok, Brooklyn quickly kissed her demon's cheeks, then his nose in the
 way the two had grown so used to doing. She hugged him close one last time, trying to
memorize every feeling and emotion before releasing her legs from his waist, moving her
arms back to hang up beside her head with an aching groan.

Damian made to step closer to her again to ease the pain, but the loud shuffling of locks
stopped him just as he shouted back that he was alright. Brook noticed as his content face
from the kiss morphed into sorrow as he beheld her hanging like that again knowing she
would be in pain. Though Brook didn't hide her weaknesses from him, she hoped that just
this once Damian would forgive her for pretending all was alright. Her last moments with
him couldn't be tainted by her exhaustion and aches, that she wouldn't allow.

"Go on, it's ok" she whispered, smiling bravely for the both of them.

Damian moved back to the door as the shuffling from behind it continued, and amidst the
darkness of his barely visible figure, she heard him whisper her favorite word.

"Beloved" he whispered in farewell.

Brook tried to keep her voice from cracking under the weight of her pain as she whispered
back one word in return, one she knew he secretly liked.

"Dami"

The word alone was enough for Damian to rush back to her, kissing her lips one last time
before all but forcing himself back to the door. He wiped all evidence of their tears, his
unrelenting and scarily serious mask back in place before the masked men could notice as the
metal door opened. Neither stranger could tell if more injuries had been added to her body,
not amidst the darkness and shadows, but they must've assumed she'd spent the past ten
minutes in complete torture as they chuckled and then praised the heir of the League of
Assassins. Neither knew the true pain lay in seeing Damian step out into the lit hallway and
out of her reach forever.

When the iron door closed that time, the sound was louder and more final than last time. It
was like a coffin closing for eternity.

Brook spent the next few hours trying to look on the bright side as someone like Grandpa
Steve would do, rationalizing that lat east her end was not all bad. Before the scales moved
from the mean towards to the bad, they stalled to grant her a little bit of that overwhelming
goodness to take with her wherever death led.

Into the darkness, she still whispered defeatedly, "I'm sorry it had to end like this, Damian"

Chapter End Notes

AT LAST THEY CONFESS! THOSE STUBBORN TEENS HAVE FINALLY DONE

THE IMPOSSIBLE! (sorry for the feels)
Ahhh, I've had this scene in my head since the very beginning and it was so satisfying to
finally write it down!

I hope you guys like the story so far! Sorry for the feels and pain! Trust me, I feel them
too *sad face*
 A Traitor's Death

Brooklyn POV-

It was sometime after sunrise when two guards came into her lonely cell with taunts in
broken Russian mean to disorient her. The men with the dragon masks knew that Brook
would not fear death, so instead, they took to pushing her buttons by morbidly detailing her
father's incoming death as they dragged her down the halls of old stone.

Brooklyn couldn't really feel her arms by that point, so she let herself be dragged between the
two of them rather than waste further energy trying to walk. That in itself could've been
impossible, the tingling feeling of blood rushing back throughout her limbs felt like blazing
needles across her skin.

What she DID bother to focus on amidst her exhaustion, was that no matter how many halls
and courtyards they passed...there was no on sight. It didn't take long to realize why, because
when Brooklyn was dragged down a dark ramp-like tunnel, shouts and screams of thousands
of people greeted her along with the blinding rays of the sun. It was still freezing outside—
would likely snow later today—but it seemed that the sun had decided to bid Brook farewell.
She couldn't decide if that was a kindness or her tired brain pulling at straws to feel better.

The giant coliseum was filled to the brim, it's dozens upon dozens or rows full of assassins
dressed in all manner of colors that represented their guilds. Though the crowd was large,
Brook was still able to make out some faces of people scowling, spitting her last name with
disgust, others holding weapons of their own who promised to have their turn with her.

She ignored the taunts, the insults, all of it...

Much like last night at the dinning hall, each leader had a special setup separated from the
crowds. The arena in the middle of the coliseum had been 'decorated' with a raised dais, thick
chains scattered on the floor no doubt meant for Brooklyn. But at the edges of the field were
elegant tent-like set ups with flags of each guild, all of them ensuring the greatest comfort for
the long spectacle ahead with fleece-lined chairs, vas tables of food, and little comforts
specific to each region.

Front row seats to her torture, how kind of them.

Brooklyn's body was dragged atop the wooden platform, dropped like a sac of potatoes at
Ivan's feet from where he stood in the middle of it all. He was smirking down at her as the
guards chained her arms into place rather painfully until she was kneeling down with arms
splayed at her sides.

The teen was calm, passive, nothing in her features expressing the fear and worry Ivan was
likely hoping for. But above all, she ensured there was no sign of her grief. Maybe dad would
find Brook eventually. Perhaps she could be buried next to her grandparents, beside her kin.
That would be nice...
Brook looked away then, ignoring the weapons and torture devices being brought on to the
stage as she looked to the forest green tent off to the side where Damian was perched on his
honorary throne next to his mother, separated form the other League members by the tarp
with designs of finest gold. He was still clad in all his finery, weapons by his side and face
impassive of any emotion that would get an assassin killed. Brooklyn fought back a relieved
sigh, knowing Damian was still in his position as heir meant that he hadn't been found out
yet. It made what was about to happen a little easer, even if she selfishly longed to see his
true self one last time.

Just as their lives began, it would seem as though Damian al Ghul would be the one to bid
farewell to Ivan's nameless heiress.

As the heavier machinery for torture was being brought up, Brooklyn discretely kept her gaze
on that emerald tent. Though Damian's face was as passive as his mother's, Brook noticed the
way he clutched one of his katanas hard. She knew this would be difficult for him, and his
place with a perfect view from the side was probably not helping, but Brooklyn hoped he
could think of the bigger picture right now. She was being a little selfish, not just wanting
Damian to stay put so he could save the heroes, but because that meant he would live.

Perhaps foolishly, Brooklyn couldn't help but wonder if his words and kisses from last night
had been induced by guilt, the spur of the moment knowing she would die, or if it was all
genuine emotion like what she felt. It was a shame she'd never get to ask...

Either way, Brooklyn was ready for whatever came.

Ivan quieted the crowd with a raised hand, slowly circling Brooklyn until he reached down to
rip the tattered silk robe from last night in one swoop. The robe was practically useless
anyways, people had taken out their anger on it last night, but the chill of the morning cold
was more evident now that she was left in only a tank top and tight leather pants. Brooklyn
knew the array of the scars on her back were now clearly visible to the assassins seated
behind her, heard their shouted suggestions for some new injuries to join those already there.
Others outright called for the skin on her back to be ripped off entirely, a popular suggestion
by the sound of things.

Not once did Brooklyn dare to show her exhaustion, she kept her head held high and refused
to flinch when Ivan mockingly kneeled by her side, pushing back strands of her auburn hair
rather harshly. A complete contrast to Damian's gentle hands from last night as he'd done the
same.

He tsked her way then, looking Brook up and down in feigned disappointment.

"Was it worth it, little spider? Is your loss of life worth the lie you lived?" he whispered with
mocking sweetness, "You know, your birth mother always said you would make me proud.
Even if she despised you for your future position as my heiress, that woman was willing to
torture and mold you to become the best. She's the one that volunteered you for the HYDRA
experiments even though many young girls had died in previous trials"

Brooklyn fought off the emotions coursing through her mind, reminding herself that the
woman Ivan spoke for was not her mom. Her true mother was Pepper Potts, the greatest
badass in the world without the need of a single weapon or a day of training.

"When I saw you on TV for the first time," Ivan added, "I knew who you were right away
because you look so much like her. But then I saw your smiles with that sorry excuse of a
man and his glorified assistant beside you, and I knew then that you were nothing like your
mother. Your absolute devotion for me was gone, and something weakening and pathetic had
taken its root"

Despite her impending doom, Brook smirked to herself, knowing that one day that 'sorry
excuse of a man' would find Ivan and make him pay. One day the Iron Man would knock at
Ivan's doorstep, and for the sake of her family, she hoped her dad burned what was left of the
Red Room to cinders.

Upon her lack of response, Ivan stood up with a frown, then addressed the cheering coliseum
as he asked Brooklyn if she had any last words. The statement was probably a joke, meant to
solidify her end, but the teen decided that perhaps there were some things she wanted to say
to all of them.

So she straightened her back, turned to glare at the thousands of killers around her before
summoning enough strength to shout her next words so that it may reach everyone in
attendance. Brooklyn wanted her last words to haunt them from now on even when they
cheered for her death.

"I have spent years living by the assassin code as a child, isolating myself, killing on Ivan's
orders and then doing so in the memory of his teachings!" she declared, glad the massive
crowd had gone dead silent to listen. Louder than before, she added, "I spent too much of my
life knowing death came at my leisure, that I could wield my skills and isolation to become
strong enough to survive just like you all do. But I have felt an even greater strength none of
you would dare to wield, something that will always make people like you weak and flawed!
I found strength in family and people who cared for me. Those heroes you despise so
much...you all owe them your lives after all the dangers the've fought off, for the fact that this
very planet remains intact. Even with that unspoken life debt in your hands that you will
never repay, let it be known that I'm glad to die as someone who fought for life, not to take it.
I'm honored to die as Brooklyn Rosa Stark"

The crowd didn't shout at her then. The few nearby she could see by the railings were
pensive, some perhaps a little angry, but none elected to make their sentiments known until
Ivan chuckled. Slowly, wicked laughs followed along from everyone but Damian, echoing
along the space like a mortifying song.

Brooklyn dared one last look Damian's way, memorizing the neatly combed black hair, the
bright green eyes that had never shown fear of her...it was a shame she'd never get to see
those beautiful dimples of his again, and that she'd never be able to tell Damian how much he
changed her life with more than just rushed words and pleas in a jail cell.

Still, she remained calm. Ready to face death after a very chaotic but ultimately wonderful
life.
Her body was turned to face five of the tents off to the side, those belonging to the strongest
guilds. Unfortunately, that meant she was now directly facing Damian's own, that as the
torture began and she had no choice but to look ahead...he'd be one of the few people she
could look at. That's when Brook heard the familiar crack of a whip behind her, and her
passive mask faltered for a second. Turning around, she beheld Ivan swinging a whip that
was as long as half the stage, thin with a metal tip bound to leave marks as deep and
permanent as those already on her wounded skin.

It was not the worst of punishments, but it held a special memory in her heart that Ivan knew
to exploit. To some it might seem like mercy or perhaps a slow way to start a long period of
punishment, but Brook and Ivan knew this was a special kind of torture bound to too many
memories that would likely kill the last of her spirit. Though she felt unease rise in her
stomach at the sight, Brooklyn pushed it down with a series of steady breaths. The first hits
were always the worst, after that she just had to focus on her breathing through each blow
like when she was a kid...

As the crowds began cheering loudly for her demise, Brooklyn looked ahead to the green tent
to see Damian's wide eyed-stare at the whip in Ivan's hands. Damian had been the only
person on this Earth who had memorized her scars, felt them and soothed them. He knew
what the product of this torture would be and what it meant.

There was a change in his tense expression then, whatever control he'd been holding onto
seemed to snap into a thousand pieces. Before Brooklyn could warn him to stop or to simply
look away, Damian had already stood up from his seat, throne falling back loudly enough for
those in the other tents and crowds above to look at the heir of the League of Assassins in
question.

No...Dami...

Ignoring the displeased whispers from his mother and the single hand reaching for him,
Damian once again brandished his mask of indifference and stepped forward, away from his
tent. The crowd go deadly silent at the sight of him, a twin to the reaction of the students of
Midtown when he arrived at school. Much like those mornings, Damian strolled forward as if
he held all the power in the world, red cape swirling behind him as he stepped onto the raised
platform like he owned it.

His mother was outright screaming now, something command in Arabic that Brooklyn didn't
quite catch as she beheld Damian stepping towards Ivan. Though the Wayne was about a
head shorter than the famed leader of the Red Room, Damian almost looked taller as he
yanked the whip out on Ivan's hands.

When the series of gasps echoed all across the coliseum, Brooklyn was too disoriented by her
rising fear and panic to do anything about it. Damian didn't pay the crowds any mind as he
threw the whip out of the raised platform, keeping his intense glare leveled on Ivan as he did
so. For a second, the two merely stood there in the middle of the large stage facing one
another, Ivan's silk robe and Damian's long cape fluttering behind them with the winter
winds, neither one blinking.
"Don't do it—" was all Brooklyn could whisper, at last catching Ivan's attention. He actually
looked puzzled by her interruption, unsure what she was trying to stop.

Both man and teen broke their stares then in favor of glancing down at her chained form.
Damian beheld with softening eyes, closing then for brief second...and after a sigh of
expectance, her best friend and keeper of her heart turned to address the puzzled masses
around them. Brook began tugging at her restraints then, forgetting all weakness as she tried
to move over to him, trying and stop what she feared he was about to do. But it was useless.

Damian was usually a person of few words, one who despised unnecessary chatter. Just not
today it seemed. Though his voice held its usual level of aloofness, there was no mistaking
the anger and disgust beneath it, no way to ignore as he addressed the crowds with the
presence and stature of a king amongst mortals.

"You all wish to punish this girl for her betrayal, for leaving her people in favor of choosing a
path towards saving lives. You all want her dead for daring to be a hero amongst vermin, and
I find it would be rather unfair if another with that same ambition suffered no punishment" he
said, causing a ripple of whispers to arise.

Brooklyn tried to move towards him again, but he was too far...

"Your minuscule brains have chosen to follow blindly along to the rules and laws of those
who only want power for themselves, to rearrange the world to their benefit. If that is the
case, then I won't have a part in it," Damian yelled, locking eyes with his glaring mother as
he added, "I too am an aspiring hero, part of the next generation of them just like the girl
you're trying to kill. As a matter of fact, Brooklyn is not my enemy, she is my greatest ally
despite our origins and last names, and I will not have her suffer for a supposed crime we are
both guilty of. I am Damian al Ghul no more...I shall die as Damian Wayne"

The crowd went silent, seemingly unwilling to believe another heir had turned on their ways.

That hesitation gave Brooklyn fleeting hope she could fix this mess before it got out of hand.
Her hope was to turn this around in a way that would rid him of suspicion and hatred...yet she
had no idea how to achieve it. There was only Damian walking along a teetering line before
an abyss, and Brooklyn couldn't even push him out of the way from her position deep below
the precipice.

"No!" Brooklyn shouted, "No! He's lying!"

But it was too late, that declaration was enough for Ivan to order two guards to seize Damian.
For the first time in his life, Damian let someone else other than her touch him. He put up no
fight as they handcuffed him into chains beside Brooklyn, forced to kneel as she was.
Brooklyn gave no shits about their secret friendship then, she screamed off the top of her
lungs, spat at Ivan to release Damian as the chains were tightened. No matter how much she
tried to move sideways, Brooklyn wasn't able to make it to Damian's side, she could barely
reach his shoulder if she stretched out a tired hand.

Unlike her spiraling panic, Damian was calm even as the guards took his katanas and threw
them out of reach, as his armor was harshly taken off and the red cape shielding him from the
cold was ripped in half and away from his body. Even as the crowds screamed for both their
heads, as the distant sound of sacrificial drums began and the rhythmic clapping commenced,
Brooklyn could barely hear it past the ringing in her ears.

Damian's eyes did not leave her own then as Brook continued to fight the restrains to move
closer to his side, at some point turning her anger on him and cursing his stupidity and
foolishness. Where calling him such things in the distant past may have begun a fight, now
Damian let each insult brush past him, looking at her as if she were saying the loveliest things
to him.

"We are a team," Damian finally whispered to her, "We live together, and we die together'

That was it. His explanation for committing the greatest mistake of his life. Brooklyn tried to
yell, to scream something even more unpleasant his way...but no words came. She could only
stare at him as she panted from her straining efforts, could only look into those emerald eyes
and see herself chained up in them just as she was beholding him.

Brooklyn had been more than ready to die, but not to watch Damian perish beside her,
especially not at the hands of Ivan or anyone else in this cursed island.

As a last frantic hope, Brook turned to the green tent were Talia al Ghul was standing in. The
woman looked as surprised as everyone else but there was disbelief mixed into her frown.
Clutching her own pair of katanas with enough force that her hands paled as she beheld her
son kneeling on that stage, the famed assassin just stood there, she didn't make a move to
attack or to save her son especially with so many eyes on her.

"Talia! He's your son!" Brooklyn shouted at the woman, "Are you really going to let him die!
Free him now! Thats your son!"

Talia's gazed moved away from Damian in the blink of an eye, her eyes roaming to the other
guild leaders, the expansive crowds everywhere that awaited her verdict. Brooklyn knew for
a fact that even though Talia al Ghul was perhaps a heatless bitch with more than a few
questionable decisions under her belt...there had to be some part of her that loved Damian.
But unlike Brook's own mother, Damian had mentioned occasionally that Talia cared for his
life in a unique way. It was the reason she sent him to live with Bruce Wayne when the
League fell, an effort to save his life and to make him stronger to withstand their cruel world.

Like Brook and the others, Talia knew what this claim and betrayal would mean for her son,
what his fate would be. The woman would not spare Brooklyn, but if she vouched for her
son, it might create some unrest. The League of Villains was one of the most powerful groups
in attendance, tied first in power with the Red Room, so surely some of the other guilds
would chose not to fight them if she came up with a clever lie or excuse.

All hopes of that vanished when Talia's face hardened and she steeled her back. The grip on
her katanas lessened, and the woman slowly sank back into her throne of furs and gold,
sprawling on it like a queen unbothered by the spectacle before her. When that emerald gaze
turned to Brooklyn, the teen didn't hesitate to snarl the woman's way, to pull at her chains in a
vain effort to try and attack Damian's mother for what she was about to do.
"How dare you speak to me, traitor. You do not command me and are in no position to make
any requests other than a feeble plea for a quick death. Damian has betrayed us all...thus he
will serve his punishment. He shall have his desired death unless he is somehow strong
enough to survive it"

Brooklyn didn't even bother to glance at Damian's expression as she began screaming
profanities at the woman in every language she knew, then turned those foul words towards
everyone else in the coliseum. Unlike her previous calm when Brook arrived at the scene,
now she fought frantically to get out of the chains, intent on fighting anyone that tried to raise
a blade or weapon at Damian even if it meant breaking her own hands to break free.

She didn't succeed in her frantic and useless attempts of summoning any flames thanks to the
vibranium at her wrists, but she did almost bring a chain loose from its place nailed onto the
raised platform. The sound of which echoed along the stage.

That finally earned her a whip mark on her back, one that sent Brooklyn down to the floor
with a groan of discomfort. Damian began screaming then, pulling against his restraints to try
and cover Brook's body with his own as best he could. But all they could really do at this
distance was stretch out their arms forward on the wooden floor, and even though it was
painful to do so thanks to the chains, they eventually managed to hold hands.

Ivan moved to stand beside them then, ignoring the screams joy around him as the grey-eyed
man kneeled to tilt Damian's face up with a hand on his jaw. At the sight, Brook lunged
forward as much as she could if only able to spit on him. Brooklyn hadn't had many chances
to stand up against Ivan, but in that moment she didn't hesitate to yell at the man to take his
filthy hands off Damian.

Ivan looked between the two of them, the disbelief in his eyes paired with that victorious
smirk of his Brooklyn often had nightmares about.

"How sweet," he whispered just loud enough for the teens to hear, "the forbidden come
together like the stories made for little kids. A little fairytale before my very eyes"

Had Ivan been able to tell the extent in which Brooklyn cared for Damian so quickly? It only
made crawl towards him more frantically past the blinding pain of metal against her skin,
keeping Damian's hand securely with her own through it all. It didn't matter who was doomed
or not at the moment, Damian was at Ivan's mercy, and that was by far the scariest sight
Brooklyn had ever faced in her life. The panic was all consuming as Ivan looked at Damian
as if he were a new toy to play with, something he could torture Brook with.

Ignoring the new searing pain across her back, Brook desperately turned towards Talia,
almost wishing she could force the woman to do something instead of just sitting there on
that stupid chair, clutching that weapon of hers so casually. The she heard the sound of Ivan
slapping Damian, and her rage turned back on the man.

Brooklyn began screaming profanities at him, anything she could think of as Damian stared
unamused at Ivan despite the redness blooming across his cheek.

In Russian, Brooklyn spat, "Ty trus! Vasha bor'ba so mnoy, a ne s nim!"

You're a coward! Your fight is with me, not with him.

Ivan smirked her way, wiping his hands on the folds of his red robes as he replied in English,
"Relax, little spider. I won't kill him, not yet. Have you forgotten that I raised you?I know
who you truly are, know what will make you scream in fear and what will make you beg for
death...and the traitorous grandson of Ra's al Ghul, his punishment will be to witness it all
before a slow death as you take your last breaths"

Ivan stood, smirk widening as he proposed with feigned kindness, "Or, if you wish to spare
yourself that much pain, I will offer you a deal. You could kill the traitor yourself whoever
you please, and as a reward for ridding the world of an alGhul, you may receive a quicker
death"

Any good assassin would've taken the deal, Brook knew that. Everyone was made to value
their lives above most things, except orders and missions. But Brooklyn was not an assassin
any longer, and killing or harming Damian Wayne was the one thing she'd never be able to
do.

"Absolutely not. You can go to hell!" Brooklyn snapped back, earning a slap on the face from
Ivan that sent Damian crawling her way until Ivan pushed him back down.

"Then you will both suffer," was all Ivan said as he stood. He instructed someone to hand him
back the whip, slowly moving to stand behind Brooklyn once again.

Damian stared at the whip with so much anger, it looked like his wrists were bruising as he
fought the restraints with as much vigor as Brooklyn had earlier. When their eyes locked, the
two just...stoped their struggling, knowing full well it was hopeless. They shared one last
unspoken declaration of their emotions, one willing strength into their bodies as their joined
hands tightened where they lay on the floor.

This torture could go one for hours, days...but they would be together, till death.

"You were right" Damian whispered to her, voice hoarse from screaming, head barely raised.

Brooklyn raised a brow, "About? We're about to be tortured in case you forgot"

Her attempt to lighten the mod worked, because Damian relented one last small smile
between them as he whispered back, "About me not having faith in any superior being, you
were right," he said, then after brief hesitation he added, "but I have faith in us. We'll face our
past together"

The words brought a smile to her own face, caressing his palm with her thumb as soothingly
as possible even if thousands of people could see.

"Everything we've accomplished...I couldn't have done it without you, my esteemed rival"
she whispered back.

Damian nodded once, and when he turned to face her a little better, she noticed Damian had
wound the chain of her golden necklace around his wrist, the little Brooklyn bridge visible
and glinting against the rays of the sun above them.

He whispered back, "I wouldn't have do it without you, my beloved nemesis"

Just as the sounds our the crowd reached an all time high, as Ivan boasted petty speeches
about punishing all traitors, and as the crack of a whip announced an imminent strike...the
winds suddenly picked up around them, pushing the sand from below the stage all around
them like a cloud. Brooklyn and Damian had to close their eyes because of it, hearing nothing
but the sounds of turning turbines above them and...was that Shoot to Trill?

Only one person would be insane enough to introduce rock classics to a nest of assassins.

When they dared to look up amidst the swirling chaos, the two teens beheld two aircrafts now
hovering above them. They hesitantly removed their joined hands from one another, turning
onto their backs to behold the familiar silhouettes of the Batplane and a Quinjet above them.
Both aircrafts glinting heavenly against the sunlight. And Brooklyn...she almost let out a sob
of relief as figures dropped down into the coliseum before the aircrafts moved aside, and
once the dust cleared, the Avengers and Bat vigilantes became visible. All in their hero
costumes, ready to fight.

The panic around the coliseum arose.

All around them, assassins stood from their stands and tents, either to attack the heroes or to
flee. Ivan was shouting orders no one could hear over the sound of engines and panic, but
Brooklyn was too focused beholding her family with utmost adoration. Everyone was there,
even Yelena and Peter, with Jon jumping out of the Wayne's jet to join them. They all stood in
a singular line, Waynes and Avengers together with fury in their eyes not directed at one
another for once as they readied their weapons.

Jon, dad, Vision, Uncle Rhodey, Uncle Sam, Wanda, and a woman with orange skin and
green eyes lifted off from the ground and into the air like flying angels.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion and pain on her back, but as Brooklyn beheld the rest of her
family running into the fray of the fight, it was all in slow motion as they easily took down
enemies around them. The wind was still blowing strongly due to the jets above them, rock
music still blasting, and sand dust flying everywhere...but the sight couldn't have been more
perfect.

It was dad who flew up in his familiar red suit above the stage, and because he was dodging
beams from alien weapons, he had no time to talk as he blasted the chains holding the teens
down. She didn't think to relish in her newfound freedom, couldn't with everything happening
around her. Brooklyn and Damian were quick to their feet, and despite the enormous
exhaustion and pain accumulated recently, it was easily replaced with adrenaline. When
Damian threw her one of his discarded katanas, the two wasted no time knocking out Gorilla
1 and 2 as the guards came rushing towards them, doing so with ease.

She didn't miss the way Damian kicked the guard that had treated her the most poorly right
on his face, dislocating his nose.
It was after that, amidst the rising chaos, Brooklyn saw the outlines of Ivan and Talia fleeing
the scene. Those two had done this, tried to sentence Brook and Damian to death...and for
that they would pay. Both teens had no time to discuss a plan, only knowing they had to stop
them, and because Brooklyn was closest to Talia's retreating form, thats where she headed.
The Stark barely caught sight of Damian rushing to Ivan, and barely had a second to worry
for him as she used the metal chain still bound to he left wrist to wrap around the woman's
foot, and when Brook pulled on it to bring Talia to the floor, the woman pulled back on the
chain, bringing Brook down with her.

The two went down with a grunt, but nimbly crouched down before one another, like cats
ready to strike.

"I can't let you escape after what you did to Damian," Brooklyn mocked, using Damian's
katana to finally cut off the chains around her wrist from the inside, and then placing the
weapon before her as Talia readied her own.

The woman beheld Brook with scrutiny, as separate fights and rushing figures passed around
them. Though a young Brooklyn could've never imagined being foolish enough to go against
the famed Talia al Ghul, the anger rushing through her veins kept her weapon drawn. It didn't
matter that the woman before her was the symbol of undiluted strength, that she had honed
her craft perfectly for far longer than brook had been alive...she'd left Damian for dead, and
that was something Brooklyn simply couldn't let pass.

"You think you have a right to scold me? You have no right to acknowledge nor speak of my
son, you Red Room insect! Do you not know who I am!?" Talia said, and it wasn't until the
first strikes of their blades as two lunged that Brooklyn replied with a grunt, "I know exactly
who you are, but Damian matters more than your reputation, so you will pay for what you
did!"

The woman's eyes turned cold then, an emerald shade the Brooklyn's tired mind had mistaken
as a glow of sorts for a second. Each of the woman's swings was accurate, strong, and quick.
Brooklyn had never been too skilled with a katana, which is why she went on the defense,
trying her hardest to keep up with an assassin legend and the way she was practically taunting
her.

Though Brooklyn managed to land a kick to the woman's side during one of the few
openings, Talia was quick to bring Brooklyn onto her back after sidestepping another blow.
The pain from the whip slash on her back was still fresh and tender when the Stark crashed
down, almost making her see stars. That momentary stun of pain was enough for Talia to
raise the blade to Brook's neck paired with a smirk of victory. It would've been over then, her
family too far and too busy with their own distant battles to come to Brook's aid then, but it
wasn't one of them who saved her, but rather the most unexpected of allies.

One minute, Brooklyn had been ready to risk rolling away from the descending blow, the
next, a figure in the distance emerged from the Batplane. It took a few seconds to make out
the odd sight, but soon it was clear that the fair-furred Kent dog was flying down towards
Brook, bright red cape across his back as well as a very large figure atop it that Brooklyn
recognized instantly. Titus was still a few feet high in the air when Talia raised her sword to
strike Brooklyn's heart, but despite the looming height, the Great Dane jumped off the the
other dog's back and ferociously tackled the leader of the League of Assassins to the ground.

The attack from behind came as a surprise, but it was enough for Brooklyn to stand and
quickly kick the woman's weapons away, weakening her for perhaps a fairer fight. Titus
moved to stand beside Brooklyn, hunched on his legs ready to attack, growling at a furious
Talia who stumbled to get to her feet. Brooklyn smiled down at the dog, and when their gazes
met, the Stark said, "Good job, beast", and with her free hand scratched his ears in praise.
Titus' tail wagged at the praise, his scowl briefly shifting for what could pass as a grin before
the dog's gaze turned back towards Talia.

Talia beheld the exchanged as if it were a hallucination.

"That dog hates everyone who's not my son," Talia stated incredulously, frowning at the
scratches on her armor and the dirt stains on her clothes.

Brooklyn dared to smirk then. Though she figured the dog had his own scores to settle on his
master's behalf, her weariness of Ivan overpowered that as she ordered Titus to go help
Damian. To her relief the dog seemed to understand instantly, obeying in seconds. As the
vicious dog began running through the heavy crowds, Brooklyn twirled the katana in hand
once, getting into position to attack with the blade at her side.

"Well, surprise bitch" was all Brook deigned to reply as she charged at the woman.

Now that Talia was without her weapon of expertise, Brooklyn's blows began to hit home.
Nothing deadly of course, but Brooklyn relished in making the woman pay for what she had
done to Damian, not just today, but all his life. But Talia was still a master assassin, so when
the katana was knocked out of Brooklyn's hands, the teen had been expecting it, switching to
her own area of expertise with hand to hand combat.

The Stark wasted no time punching Talia al Ghul in the face, over and over as much as she
could. She handed enough powerful blows to leave the woman's nose bleeding and her eye
twitching, using the edges of her vibranium bracelets to add small cuts and gashes to the mix.

When the rumored invincible woman seemed to recover from the shock of being repeatedly
punched, she was still visibly stumbling. Yet when Brook used the opening to kick her side,
Talia had taken the shift in the teen's body to land a kick right on the fresh scar on Brooklyn's
back. The pain was enough to make Brook falter sightly, enough for Talia to reach for a
dagger behind her cape, aiming it right at Brooklyn's head. The blow would've struck true no
doubt, but it never came as an object from the masses came rushing just past Brooklyn's ear,
embedding itself into Talia's arm and causing the dagger fall from her hold.

When Brook got a good look at the object the woman removed painfully form her now
bleeding arm, she noted it was quite familiar. It was no mere dagger, but one of the Batarangs
Brook had seen Damian wielding when they first fought side by side and that day of the
Osborn gala. It was sharp, no bigger than her palm, and though it was bat shaped, the little
'boomerang' was enough to render Talia's arm useless in this fight with how deep it had
embedded itself.
When Brooklyn turned around to see who had grown it, she noticed none other than
Nightwing—Damian's oldest brother—not far from her. His arm still stretched out in their
direction of the throw that had saved her life. Before he continued on with his fight against
three assassins from the African guild, the Wayne merely smirked her way once as if in
acknowledgment, then proceeded to fight the enemies with his peculiar escrima sticks.

Had a Wayne who hated her just...saved her life?

Brooklyn would have to process that later, because right now, she would not waste the golden
advantage Dick Grayson had bestowed. In seconds, Brooklyn rushed over to Talia, kicking
the woman on the stomach, then jumped onto her frame, wrapping her legs around the lean
frame so that she could flip the leader to the ground painfully.

Talia stared up at Brooklyn as the teen held her down in place, pressing on the arm injury to
keep the woman from breaking out of the hold.

Talia wasn't angry or vengeful, but rather, she seemed...pleasantly surprised. It almost startled
Brooklyn enough to falter, but ultimately, she pressed the woman harder onto the floor since
she wasn't willing to take any chances.

"Perhaps you are worthy of associating with my son after all, little bug" the woman said with
a bloody smirk, "It appears his poor judgement to befriend a spider, a Stark, was not as
misplaced as I imagined"

Brooklyn brushed aside the odd praise as she pulled the leader's arm back to enact further
pain from the injury. Talia didn't scream out in pain, which was a slight bummer, but the teen
used her brief moment of advantage to look around the crazed field full of blood, weapons,
and screams. She was able to find that most of her family was on the other side of the field,
fighting their way to her past the hundreds of assassin's that had rushed to attack them.
Damian was much closer, about thirty paces away...beating the shit out of Ivan.

Though Ivan was on the defensive, his injuries were clearly stacking up, and when Iron Man
landed behind him, Brooklyn almost looked on in awe as her dad and Damian actually
worked together to attack from both sides. There was no yelling or fighting between one
another, all their focus was on bring Ivan to his knees...which they did after a few broken
bones and blasts that would no doubt cause substantial internal damage.

Once Ivan was sprawled on the floor, his alien weapons obliterated by dad, Damian finally
tore his focus away from the fight. He looked around the surrounding madness until he found
Brooklyn's gaze, noticing his mother rendered immobile under Brook. Defeated against all
odds.

The two teens shared a quick smile of relief, but it didn't last very long as various warnings
were screamed around them.

When Brook turned to the right, she noticed why. One of the assassins from the League was
looking right at his defeated leader. In an attempt to help her, he had decided to activate what
looked to be an alien weapon the size of a small box that glowed that familiar blue until it
pulsed into a red hue. Brooklyn had little time to react as the small metal box caved into
itself, and instead of a fiery explosion or producing an alien blast that made them all
disintegrate, a large wave of sound released from it, knocking everyone onto the floor.

There was a painful ringing in her ears that had her screaming and writhing on the floor.
Brook tired to stand, wiping the sand off her face with the dirty tank top, and when she
looked around her, the teen noticed everyone was slowly coming to as well, taking the chance
to flee through the blasted whole on the wall where the man with the bomb had stood. Those
nearby abandoned their leaders and rushed to jump down the cliff and onto the sea.

Brooklyn knew thanks to Damian's intelligence that there were submarines and boats docked
in hidden caves down there, thats how they had once planned to escape after all. Brook
simply couldn't let that happen. Before she could rush forward to the opening, she turned to
incapacitate Talia...but the woman was already running over to the exit, only to be stopped by
Damian and his three brothers who blocked the way.

Nightwing. Red Hood. Red Robin. All of them clutching their weapons tightly as if they too
had a score to settle.

When glanced at where Damian once stood, Brook realized Ivan was waking up, that her dad
had already left to stop the assassins fleeing down below. Out of everyone in attendance, the
Stark knew she couldn't let him escape, Ivan him of all people. He'd done so much harm to so
many children, forced Brook to become something awful for years, turned her into a monster
with fire in her veins. He'd even tried to kill Damian.

Brooklyn was done being frightened by him, of letting Ivan be a looming shadow of her past
that kept dragging her back with every step of positive progress she made. The only way to
rid herself of the nightmare, was to stop and confront it. This was Brooklyn's fight, the one
the Avengers had unknowingly trained her for all this time...and she had no plans to avoid it
any longer.

Ignoring the varying aches along her body, Brooklyn stood up, gathering Damian's katana
and the bloody Batarang Talia had removed from her shoulder.

Brook took a second to calm her mind, blocked out the rising fights and panic around her as
she focused on Ivan's retreating form. She recalled all the sharpshooter lessons Ivan made her
take which she molded to work with Uncle Clint's archery lessons on accuracy. Slowly she
drew the metal object in her hand, aimed, then threw it forward. The Batarang spun as it
launched itself forward, past raised arms, moving bodies, flying laser beams, until it reached
its target at Ivan's back, the place just between then shoulder blades he wouldn't be able to
reach.

As he staggered in surprise, Brooklyn rushed forward, weaving past falling bodies and
dodging any incoming attacks because she only had eyes for one target...and that was Ivan.
Surprisingly, Brooklyn wasn't the only one with the target in mind. Once Brooklyn reached
the small clearing where he lay, the Stark looked to the two figures that circled in on Ivan
with weapons in hand.

Natasha and Yelena.

Their expressions were nothing short of relieved when they beheld Brook, but that quick
glance only lasted a second as Ivan made to stand between them.

Yelena was wearing a suit like Nat's, had a metal Bō staff in hand and a determination so
strong that Brooklyn knew her sestra was looking forward to this fight as much as Natasha
was. Unlike the two teens, Nat stared down at Ivan with raw anger, her widow's bites buzzing
with electricity as her short red hair bellowed in the wind.

The three widows—products of Ivan's torture—looked down at the man in tandem, daring
him to stand.

He looked up at them with something close to amusement if his chuckle was any trustworthy
indication. Despite the broken bones and blooming injuries, the man laughed and laughed,
the wicked sound embedded into all their worst nightmares.

"Ah, my three spiders. Ivan's girls reunited at last" he said, standing up at last while dusting
the sand and dirt off his elegant robes.

"We are not your girls," Yelena bit back, thrusting her staff on the ground so a pointed tip
rose at its other end. A clear indicator of just how brutal Yelena intended his punishment to
be.

Ivan was unamused, wiping the blood off his mouth and ignoring the bleeding rips in his
fabric from where Damian has struck earlier. He pulled out two small silver guns from his
back that were no easily accessible thanks to the rips of the sagging fabric, loading them in
seconds with an expertise Brooklyn wasn't sure even she could achieve. They let him do so.

"I offered you three the world," Ivan mused, lazily pointing a gun Yelena and Brook's way.
Both teens were more than ready intercept the bullets with their weapons, but Ivan didn't
fire...he was looking expectantly at Natasha.

"You're really going to fight me, Natalia?" he asked.

Nat was examining him, analyzing strengths, weaknesses, the patterns of motion and rhythm.
Data overpowered personal emotions, running through strategies in her mind to care much
about the taunts. Then she stopped, seemingly coming to a conclusion. When she did talk,
Nat's voice was leveled and full of vengeance as she got into the Systema Pose, the classic
Russian martial art Ivan had taught them all.

"Vy nauchili nas nikogda ne propuskat' i ne proigryvat'. Prigotov'tes' stradat' ot ruk vashikh
tvoreniy" Nat said, at lasy which was the girls cue to join her in that same fighting stance,
circling Ivan like lions ready to pounce on their prey.

You taught us never to miss or lose. Prepare to suffer at the hands of your creations.

Sestra was right, he would suffer for everything.

As the bullets began to fly, Brook and Yelena focused on blocking all of them with familiar
expertise, thrusting their weapons to protect Nat as she rushed forward to engage in hand to
hand combat. Fighting against Ivan's guns and him was no easy task, he was a skilled leader
for a reason and he knew it. That quickly became apparent when their attacks landed only a
few blows, when they spent more time dodging than they were fighting. Even injured, Ivan
was a force of nature to be reckoned with so carelessly.

"You three forget I'm the one who taught you everything you know, you can't beat me," he
shouted mockingly, and before he could use Yelena's opening to knock her down, Brooklyn
realized his words were correct because he knew what countermoves they would use for each
of his attacks. Ivan was aware of every thought and strategy in their minds because it's what
he taught them in the Red Room.

Perhaps it was time he learned Brooklyn was far beyond what he'd trained her to be.

She rushed forward then, moving swiftly like the waves of the ocean, weaving under his legs
to shove her hand against the pressure points in his back Damian had once spoken to her
about. A move from the League of Assassins. When the guns left his hands and he collapsed
with a grunt of anger, Brooklyn waited until her sestras positioned their weapons to keep him
in place so she could to smirk down at him the way he had to Damian and Brooklyn minutes
ago.

"Yeah, most of your training comes from you...but you're so busy keeping enemies at bay that
you don't know how to counter a League of Assassins attack" she whispered, thrusting the
katana into his hand to stop the sheathing of dagger he was trying to pull out subtly.

HIs groan of annoyance and pain was music to the Widows' ears.

That's when dad flew over, landing across the three Widows while beholding Ivan's fallen
body. His helmet retracted, the body of the suit opening so that her dad could step out of the
suit. Dad didn't so much as blin when said suit closed and then moved to keep shooting
nearby enemies on its own as he kept his gaze on Ivan with a rage Brooklyn hadn't imagined
possible.

Ivan had the audacity to smirk.

"Your grand scheme is over, Mishka Kosolapy" dad said, smirking back.

Of course dad would be the one to make jokes right now, calling Ivan after a famous Russian
candy that Nat absolutely despised. It was fitting though, the translation of the candy was
'Clumsy Bear', and seeing as the Russian bear was still embroidered to the back of his robes
made Brooklyn fight back a smile.

"All this, assembling and leading an army, after today it will all for noting" dad added,
motioning to the chaos around them.

Ignoring dad's taunts, Ivan pushed back stray tendrils of brown hair from his face, those
unnerving silver eyes locking onto the three Widows as he asked with feigned innocence,
"Are you going to kill me then?"
Nat and Yelena both looked very eager to agree, it was all the three had hoped to achieve for
a long time. But before she could ponder how best to make Ivan suffer during his last
moments, Brooklyn realized that she hadn't just learned lessons on her family of how to fight,
that Damian's wisdom hadn't just come in the shape of League attacks.

Stepping forward, Brooklyn placed a gentle and bloody hand on her father's arm as she glared
down at the kneeling assassin king at their feet.

"Unlike you, we choose not to kill because this is an act of justice, not vengeance. You will
rot in jail, alone and powerless, and you will pay for all you have orchestrated, including the
shit you made the Joker do" she said, gritting her teeth to fight off the urge to just kill him for
all the torture he put Yelena through for years, for threatening to kill her Damian. Her very
essence begged and implored to destroy him now...it sang with the urge to do the opposite of
what she knew was right.

But that voice in her head, however present, was no longer as strong as the new path Brook
had chosen for herself. Though she hadn't expected the reassurance, when dad's hand
intertwined with her own and his eyes glistened with pride and relief, Brooklyn felt the guilt
of choosing Ivan's fate on her own vanish entirely. In truth, she was immensely relieved just
to see him again, even though now was most certainly not the time for reunions.

Ivan chucked at her words, wiping the cascading blood off his mouth with the torn fabric of
his expressive sleeve.

"Your think I did this? That we all planned this?" he said incredulously, " Mr. Stark, I am a
man of honor and accept defeat. As a sign of good will, I'll let you in on a little secret for
your troubles. Let it be known that we didn't hire the Joker, that we were ALL hired by
someone who will bring you to your knees one day. You've met the puppets, but the master is
someone you will never defeat"

"Bullshit," Yelena spat, stepping forward, "These many assassins wouldn't pledge to work
under someone's orders, not to mention YOU wouldn't belittle yourself to be second in
command to anyone,. Ever"

Ivan shrugged, laying on the ground as he replied casually, "The traitor speaks. Regardless of
your assumptions, you're mistaken. I would allow such things if the price was great, and if the
person was powerful enough to be worthy of following"

The words made them all pause briefly as the Iron Man suit flew around them to keep
attackers at bay in the middle of a battlefield. The four shared uncertain glances, especially
the three Widows who couldn't dismiss his statements as lies so easily but also couldn't find it
in themselves to trust the man.

"You all may not fall by my hand, but you will by the puppeteer's clever strings. And you
Brooklyn Stark, you will come back to me soon enough when you remember who you are,
when the power you hold scares everyone away and the crimes of your past stack up. You
will come find me then, and I'll be waiting"
That was the last thing Ivan the Great said until dad knocked him out cold with a kick to the
head.

Despite the amount of information learned and the success of finally stopping her greatest
nightmare, all of that faded away as dad' suddenly pulled her into a warm embrace, the
desperation in his whispered reassurances of safety laced with broken sobs. Brooklyn had
never melted so quickly into an embrace as she did then, though she still kept his hands from
touching the visible scars on her back. She soothed his shaking, wiping away the tears, and
over all just tried to focus on the blinding joy of being able to see her father again. Had things
turned out differently, Brooklyn might be well on her way towards the gates of death, and had
this fight taken a different turn, dad might not be safe and unharmed as he was now.

Over his shoulder, Brooklyn could see Talia on the ground on the other side of the field.
Damian and his three brothers were standing before her, weapons drawn and Titus ready to
pounce. Another victory against an enemy of her rival family.

Unfortunately, the battle was not over yet.

Damian POV-

Damian had not often pondered about the day he might be forced to go against his mother
again. He'd often had conflicted feelings when it came to her. She was all he ever knew for
the first ten years of his life, and though she hadn't exactly been warm and kind like most
mothers, she'd cared for him more than any assassin should. Seeing her now laying on the
ground devoid of her weapons, Damian's brothers by his side after they had rushed to back
him up where he'd hesitated to make a lethal blow...it painted a better picture of just who he'd
turned into after all these years. Surprisingly, Damian felt no regrets about any of it.

He still wasn't sure what to do about Talia yet, there were still too many fights going on
around them and despite Pennyworth's virtual control of the Batplane and his sisters' best
efforts to keep League members away from helping his mother, Damian found himself
speechless by it all.

Not long ago when Damian's mother had sentenced him to death still felt like a prickle of
pain lodged inside his head, but it was nothing compared to the anger he felt at the fact that
she'd been more than glad to let Brooklyn die. Brook was nothing but an enemy heiress to his
mother and the League, but Damian wanted to condemn them all for their acceptance of the
execution anyways. He wanted everyone here to pay for what they'd almost taken away from
him.

Damian supposed that the first in that long line of punishments in need of overseeing was
here and now.

When his mother looked up at him, their twin eyes meeting one another, she simply said,
"Damian, will you really arrest me? I'm your mother"

Damian sighed, lowering his katana but not his impenetrable glare as he replied coldly,
"Mother, you may have given me life, but my family and friends taught me how to live. That
means more than whatever claims you are trying to wield"

Something in her cat-like eyes dimmed then, and that determined anger returned as mother
quickly took out something from her pocket before they could even register the movement.
Damian could only reach out his arms in a frenzy to push the others back as the object was
thrown on the ground, creating a large cloud of smoke. Before it had cleared, the Waynes
rushed inside the thick fog to find that the place mother had laid in was now empty. No
matter how long Damian looked around, she was nowhere to be spotted. His frustration was
only second to the voice inside his head that wasn't too surprised she'd managed to get away.

Mother had mastered the art of stealth long before any of them had been born, and with
nothing of worth to keep her here, mother would abandon anyone and everyone if it meant
saving her life. Typical.

His disappointed brothers quickly spread out to look for Talia, knocking out and
immobilizing whoever came their way (well, except Todd. He was killing). As for Damian,
he just stood there for a second amidst all the chaos, realizing he'd finally let go of the name
Damian al Ghul after his actions from today. His title of honor amongst these assassins was
no more, his throne shattered, but his mind was free.

Even if mother escaped, it would not change what transpired. Next time they met, they'd do
so as enemies and nothing more.

Snapping out of his trance, Damian caught sight of Brooklyn running towards him, easily
fighting anyone in her way as she did. Yelena was fighting by her side, with Spider-man
swinging down to kick out the weapon from someone who'd been about to shoot her. To his
surprise, Jon had ditched the Waynes and landed beside his beloved', handing over a small
com device to Brooklyn as they all made their way to Damian.

Jon wasted no time handing over one to Damian as well, also taking the time to pat him on
the back before saying, "Good to have you back, buddy. Your dad said the assassins are
trying to escape and that we should try and stop as many as we can"

Damian looked at the assembled team of misfits, each member ready to fight side by side
with the blasting sound of rock music above them. Some of them were a little worse for wear,
others had never been a part of such a large scale battle, but it was clear none of them were
backing out from protecting one another. The time for proper reunions could be amended
later, right now they all had a score to settle.

His gaze selfishly lingered on Brooklyn for a second, and when she saluted him with his
katana, Damian stifled a smirk and finally assumed a fighting stance.

"We stick together and fight as a team" Brooklyn ordered, to which Damian added, "We
incapacitate, not kill. We're better than these lowlives"

The cluster of teens nodded, and as soon as Jon began to freeze the assassins charging at
them from all angles, the team got to work doing what they'd learned to do best. Avenging
wrongdoings.
It had to have been hours later when SHIELD finally arrived with a large Helicarrier to
transport all the assassins that Peter had webbed to the floor and those that the others were
guarding. Some assassins had inevitably escaped—most of the leaders amongst them—and
those that had fled would no doubt go back into hiding until they got their chance to strike
again. Many alien weapons around the island were confiscated, but it was clear the fleeing
assassins took some valuable things in their retreat. Clues as to why they had gathered.

Father had called in Aquaman to send forces underwater to look for the boats and
submarines, meaning there wasn't much left to do until the Atlanteans reported back with
their findings. That is unless they had already arrived to their destinations.

Currently, Damian was surrounded by his siblings and father, all of them fussing about
whatever injuries they thought he might have. Father had even taken the time to scold him for
playing such a risky move to get them there, but the teen's mind was elsewhere. Brooklyn
was on the other side of the field with the Avengers, ignoring SHIELD medic assistance as
she helped haul the captured assassins into the helicarrier. Something in him knew he had to
go talk to her, not just about their near successful execution, but in relevance to what had
occurred yesterday.

It seemed like an unnecessary thing to focus on after all that had occurred, but seeing his
beloved alive after thinking they would both die...it made Damian nervous. Damian wasn't a
person who allowed many doubts, but he couldn't help but wonder if Brooklyn meant what
she'd said last night, if her feelings truly were directed at him and not Peter Parker (who was
walking by her side, clearly urging her to sit down).

The confessions they made were not something people like them would say with ease. They
were people who struggled to not only understand, but also convey certain
emotions...meaning they wouldn't have said those words on a whim. Damian knew that. But
so much had happened so quickly, too many things were changing and the distance between
them widening once again.

When father mentioned his hate for the Starks and his annoyance at having to work with
them amidst his scolding, Damian knew approaching Brooklyn at a time like this would not
be wise. If there truly was something bigger between the two teens, it would have to be an
even greater kept secret than their current friendship. If Brooklyn truly had no regrets about
their feelings, then he wouldn't risk exposure no matter how much he yearned to go to her
now.

After the mess was cleaned up and everyone was getting ready to leave the island—which
was apparently located within the famed Bermuda Triangle of all places— Damian was
guided to the Batplane by his frantic family (well...Drake and Todd were rather calm), while
Brooklyn was led by her own party to their Quinjet. The aircrafts were parked on the side of a
cliff on opposite sides, and neither side bid farewell to the other as they ushered into their
own transport. Almost as if their joint teamwork hadn't existed.

Damian knew he'd likely not see Brooklyn until school resumed in a few weeks. His family
would be frantic about his disappearance, even more so since the League of Assassins was
involved and Talia had escaped. In a similar manner, Damian figured Brooklyn's family
wouldn't dare keep an eye away from her after she'd been stolen from them in their own
territory. She seemed to realize it too, because just as the two were simultaneously pushed
towards the entrances to their own aircrafts, the spared a defiant second to two look back at
one another, sharing one last forbidden glance.

Brooklyn's veiled yet relieved smile was enough for Damian to fight the rising of his own.
The two were bloody and their clothes were shredded and dirty, but they had made it out
alive despite the abysmal odds. They'd done as they had once promised, fighting their own
dark pasts if it meant keeping the other safe, and they had done so together.

Damian was painfully aware they both had much to discuss, and he wasn't sure if he was
ready for that. But for now, the two were safe, alive, and because life still ran through their
veins, they could now have the chance to figuring out what it was that ran between them.
Perhaps not today or tomorrow, but they would talk eventually, and when they did...Damian
would make sure that it wasn't just words that expressed his long hidden emotions. Words
were fine, but actions were far more important in his book. No matter the outcome of their
conversation, Damian would continue traverse the unknown with the only person he trusted
to do it with.

Both were part of a team now after all, and something told Damian that whatever this war
was, it was just the beginning of a complex game he and his beloved were now in the middle
of. And if anyone threatened who they cared for again...well, they better be prepared to lose
at the hands of the Avengers Dynasty.
 Epilogue
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Pepper POV-

As Pepper finished making a PB&J sandwich, she set down the knife with a sigh, shifting her
gaze to the living room where Brooklyn was currently lounging in. The sandwich before her
seemed like such a simple thing to give to someone mature beyond her years, but Pepper
wanted her daughter to experience the normal amidst the chaos and the weird, thought her
daughter should get a chance to taste the treat of peanut butter and jelly since she'd missed
out on it as a child. Maybe the food offering was more for her sake rather than Brook's, a way
to not only bask in the fact that her daughter was safe, but also as a way to pretend nothing
bad had ever happened. As if she'd been making PB&J sandwiches for the teen's entire life.

Brooklyn was still seated beside the small window as she was that morning, a forgotten book
laying in her lap as she stared out into the winter landscape. It was like she was searching for
something, trying to look past the curtains of falling snow for an unspoken object. For a
moment, Pepper worried the climate reminded Brook of her life back in the Red Room, that it
could bring back unpleasant memories of what had happened. After everything that had
happened to Brook, she'd been a little distant while doing her best to smile and seem ok to
everyone. Understandably so. But once the Avengers had all left for training or on missions,
Pepper noticed she just sort of...got lost in thought.

Knowing her daughter had been captured had been one of the greatest horrors in Pepper's life,
it had been one of those moments that had shifted her entire axis and quelled every sensible
voice in her head. When Peter came in accompanied by his kryptonian friend and a band of
Waynes to share the news, the woman had felt time stop and rewind to the moment years ago
when Tony had been captured by terrorists. Loss and fear were terribly similar emotions, but
the way in which they clung to her soul in those two instances could almost border on painful
when she began wondering if her loved ones were still breathing somewhere.

At first, Pepper had feared she'd go weeks without hearing from Brooklyn. Knowing it was
the Red Room who had done it, it made it all the more worrisome for everyone. For one
person in particular, actually.

Natasha was usually very level headed, calm and poised at the face of danger or a rising
issue, but for those four days Brooklyn was gone...the woman had been frantic. It was both a
touching yet unsettling sight, seeing the woman behind the hero who was ready to destroy
whoever had taken their Brooklyn. Pepper had known that the reaction went beyond her
worry for Brook, but also because it had something to do with Ivan, the man of myth that
everyone who knew him personally treated like some kind of boogeyman. If Natasha was
that nervous, Pepper didn't have to know Ivan personalty to note the situation was dire.

Pepper had no special espionage skills or the ability to go out looking for clues, she had no
powers with which to save her child with either. All she could do during those four days was
stay at home and try to calm down Harley, who refused to go to out of his room until
Brooklyn was back home safe. Though she supposed part of the reason Harley refused to
leave lay in the fact that beyond the Avengers' floors, the rest were filled with Waynes whom
Harley was still afraid of.

It WAS odd sight to behold, seeing both Waynes and Tony working towards a common goal.
Sure, they fought almost any chance they could, but there was always someone there to
remind them that each fight was minutes wasted in which their children could be suffering.

Also during those grueling four days, Pepper noticed something peculiar that the others had
overlooked. One of Mr. Wayne's daughters—the clever one with bright red hair and thick
glasses—was crippled from the waist down. Being crippled didn't stick out much in the
Avengers Compound, not when Rhodey was still a great hero regardless. What was peculiar
lay int he way the Wayne moved, ran, and sat with ease. Though she'd tried not to think on it
somberly during those days, Pepper had spent much time with Brooklyn as the teen showed
off the tinkering modifications she was making on a brace for Rhodey...and there was
something similar about the one the Wayne had, that no matter how subtle, Pepper
recognized.

It didn't take long for Pepper to know without a doubt that Brook had made the brace the
young woman had, and maybe it was the rising horror of never seeing her daughter again, but
Pepper had gone to Brook's lonely room that night and shed tears of pride. Thats how
Natasha had found her, collapsed atop a made bed while the others were busy, probably with
thinking it was just the worry of Brook getting to her.

"Relax, Pep. We don't know where they are yet, but I think those two kids will keep one
another safe until we get there" Nat had whispered with absolute certainty thanks to that
morning's confirmation that both Brooklyn and Damian were in the same place. Something
that shouldn't have eased both of the women's worries ever so slightly, but it had anyways.

"They care for one another, but people chance in the face of the past. Are we sure...are we
sure he will help if Brook needs it?" Steve had asked from here he leaned exhaustedly by the
entrance to the room, beard unkempt and eyes crestfallen. He'd taken the kidnapping of
Brook badly as well, though he'd never faltered before the others while they worked. Only
then in the privacy of the Avenger's floor had Steve bother to show the extent of his worry for
the kid they'd all sworn to protect...and it was only human that in his worry, he would
question the only person who might be close enough to help Brooklyn.

Nat had pushed off the bed and gone over to him, gladly excepting the offer to stand by his
side as she looked between him and Pepper with that same reassurance from earlier. Her
voice hadn't even wavered as she explained, "I think this goes beyond caring for one another
the way most kids do. By nature, they're distrustful and deadly, but it's clear they trust one
another in a way that perhaps even we don't, otherwise what I saw that day at the dance
wouldn't have been possible."

Those words had been a massive comfort to Pepper—however simple yet complex they may
have seemed—but she'd carried them close to her heart like a prayer until the call came that
everyone was safe and sound.
Now, her daughter was back home, covered in bandages, rubbing the reddened cuff marks on
her wrist absentmindedly, but somehow not caring about then at all. Brooklyn HAD made
sure Ivan was put in the most highly secured prison in the world, had testified for SHIELD at
the man's trial, even grinned when he was sentenced to life in prison for his crimes. For a
second, Pepper thought her daughter had managed to work past the horrors herself, but it was
clear something still weighed in her mind.

Since then, Brook had found comfort in training most of the day, or like right now, just sitting
and looking out the window. There was a longing in that gaze, one Pepper knew wasn't a
wish to go back to that assassin base. The woman wanted to do something to help now since
she couldn't back when the rescue efforts were happening. Never mind that, Pepper just
wanted to ensure her daughter was fine, wondered if talking about what had happened would
be a good thing, or if there was something else troubling her then there was surely something
that could be done.

Why does she looks so lost in though?

Worried Ivan might escape the pentagon?

Pondering where the stray assassins went?

Was she traumatized? Scared?

Tony had taken to sleeping outside Brook's bedroom door when nightmares plagued him
shortly after Brook's return, and he'd told her with a hint of surprise that their daughter hadn't
had a single nightmare this whole time. Which was good, obviously, but odd in its own right.

That in itself was only a piece of the puzzle Pepper had been trying to figure out.

Brooklyn's expression was usually calm when she was alone too, like she was simply trying
to work something out. Another puzzle piece was that her daughter hadn't touched the new
phone Tony got her. Her friends must be very worried by her absence, surely she kew that.
Peter actually had to come by the Compound every other day because Brook wouldn't answer
his messages. None of her actions made sense, and Pepper had watched from a distance for
long enough, she wanted to do something to make it better...Pepper just hoped her daughter
was ok with talking about it with her.

Unsure what she should do to try and help without poking at sensitive subjects, Pepper
swallowed her unease and dropped off the sandwich before her daughter's lap. Brooklyn eyed
the snack with curiosity, then glanced up and smiled at her. Taking that as her cue, Pepper
took a seat beside the teen on the small yet cozy bench all while doing her best not to look
too eager to be welcomed into the space.

"Hey sweetie," Pepper said softly, "May I ask what are you thinking about all on your
lonesome? You know you can tell me anything"

Brooklyn sighed, eyes focused on the sandwich before her as she debated answering.
Thankfully, the hesitation wasn't long enough that Pepper began second guessing her
approach. Pushing stray locks of hair behind Brooklyn's ear, Pepper shot her daughter an
encouraging smile that thankfully had the girl's instinctual defenses crumbling on their
foundation.

"I'm actually, its nothing bad...I'm just wondering how you came to have feelings for dad" she
replied sheepishly, separating the little sandwich squares to the edges of the plate nervously.

Out of al things in the world, that was not at all what Pepper had been expecting. In fact,
Pepper was a little puzzled as to why Brook hadn't asked that earlier.

She supposed she should instead be counting her blessings instead of questioning the
motives. At least that was an easy topic of conversation. The whys could always come later,
if at all depending on what her daughter wanted.

Pepper leaned back against the soft cushion, side by side with her daughter as their hands
intertwined. Playing with the designs and threads of her daughter's blue sweater, she
answered the odd question with a smile.

"Well, our story rather complicated, but not in a bad way. You probably know I used to work
as your dad's assistant for years in which it was practically just the two of us attached to the
hips with little secrets between us. I got to know the real him because of the long hours, I saw
Tony Stark in a way that the world couldn't even fathom. Tony was-is loud, boisterous,
selfish, and spoiled to the naked eye...but I was there to see him spend his days down at the
lab ticketing and building machines that would keep people safe in a way he never felt, I'm
the one that saw him cry at the foot of his parents graves on each anniversary of their deaths"
Pepper let out a sigh, a sad smile blooming across her face, "I saw the man who gave and
gave, always trying to atone for the crimes of others while he suffered the consequences of
being a hero in silence. He changed after his kidnapping, but the good in him was always
there"

Brooklyn turned her full attention on Pepper then, eyes glistening and mouth agape in awe.

"In short, I saw your father's heart," she added, "I was one of the few that he allowed to know
the truth. He may be forgetful sometimes and more than a little reckless, but at his core, he's
always wanted to better the lives of others, not to mention he cared for me in his own way
long before we started dating. Its not always easy, what we have is full of complications and
we've taken our fair share of breaks, but we always move past the little arguments because its
worth it"

Pepper's daughter tightened her hold on their intertwined hands, nodding to herself as she
processed everything, almost as if she were looking for an answer within them. That's when
Pepper noted the vibranium bracelets usually obscure by Brook's sleeves, the ones she
insisted on always keeping on were gone, were now replaced by her gauntlets and the watch
with GIL on it.

Though Pep hadn't exactly agreed with the decision, it had long since been evident her
daughter had become attached to those 'power repressors', a decision fueled by fear. With so
many unknowns when it came to the fire she could wield, no one had pressed for Brooklyn to
live without them. She knew no one would be able to convince Brook to take them off...so
why were they gone all of the sudden?....that is unless something had happened...
"Brook," Pepper said, unsure if she was overstepping any boundaries as she asked, "When
you were taken...why didn't you use your abilities to escape? Your dad said the place wasn't
scorched anywhere and that during that battle he never saw you try and use them. Don't get
me wrong, I get why your weary, but surely your dad has stressed the importance of utilizing
some skills where others fail in case of an emergency"

Whatever Brooklyn had been pondering about was gone in an instant. Instead, those brown
eyes dimmed, her expression shifting to disappointment...not at Pepper for asking, but in
herself.

"I know that. It's more like couldn't access them no matter how hard I tried. At first I refused
to use them as I had promised to myself, especially because I didn't want Ivan to know I
WAS the monster his experiments created. But then things got dire and it wasn't just my life
on the line, suddenly all those skills I'd learned in the Red Room and SHIELD were
useless...so I gave up on my caution and tried to use them. I even thought I could wield my
anger on purpose to activate the flames, but it became increasingly clear that nothing would
happen unless I got rid of the vibranium bracelets. I...hate that I made sure those bracelets
were unbreakable to keep the flames at bay, that my own choices ended up backfiring on me"
Brooklyn said, frowning at her wrists where Pepper had first seen those fresh cuff marks
when she'd returned home.

Tony hadn't learned much of what had happened prior to their arrival, and Brook's SHIELD
report had been clipped and brief at best, things easily shrugged off to trauma. Pepper had
once taken that as a good sign, one backed up by her daughter coming back home in one
piece because surely that meant nothing too bad had happened prior to that final battle for
freedom.

When Pepper began questioning the possibility that those injuries weren't from her vibranium
bracelets pressing too hand on her skin during a fight, she realized Brook had likely been...oh
god. She'd been tied up, unable to fight or able to reach to try and unlock them. That last
resort defense she'd been pushing back for such a long time had failed her because Brooklyn
had chosen too drastic measures to repress that fire.

Now that she thought about it, when Pepper went down for a midnight snack for a restless
Tony, she'd heard Natasha whispering something about their arrival to the scene with Clint.
Most had confessed to not being able to see much past the dust and dirt flying about, but Nat
had whispered something about cuffs on a platform before all the assassins...and she'd only
heard something about the Wayne boy being there beside someone before heading back
upstairs. Pepper hadn't dared to think that her daughter had been there, that perhaps both
teens had been cuffed to the platform...likely in more danger than she'd realized.

That begged the question, had Brooklyn finally taken off her vibranium repressors because
she hadn't been able to save herself and the Wayne?

"Maybe you were more scared than angry. Maybe its time to not be scared anymore"

Brooklyn considered Pepper's words, practically collapsing her head atop the woman's
shoulder. Her daughter considered the wisdom silently as she snacked on the sandwich, and
when the request to go to Xavier's during the weekends for the rest winter break came out of
Brooklyn's mouth, Pep was more than a little surprised. Surprised but not displeased. This
was a good thing, for Brook to wish to control her foreign abilities the way Wanda had
learned to live with her own. Embracing her daughter, Pepper couldn't help but thing that
after the bad that just happened, some good things came out of it too...she saw that same
drive and determination for change that had been in Tony's eyes when he came back from his
own kidnapping.

Pepper just hoped that in the future, there wouldn't be a need for that fire to be used in dire
situations. She just wanted her daughter safe.

That night, when everyone gathered for movie night, every Avenger seemed determined to
stay close to Brooklyn. They all ended up huddled on cluster of pillows and blankets around
her, making sure she knew she was loved and cared for. As Peter put on a cheery animated
film, Pepper huddled right into Tony's embrace with Harley on her other side. Brooklyn was
beside her father, all of them smiling at the sight of their loud and boisterous family.

It was then that Pepper noticed something flash across her daughter's expression. Bravery.

For the first time in days, Brooklyn reached for her phone, and as discretely as possible, she
typed out a text and sent it with a smile. Pepper didn't catch the message nor the recipient, but
she trusted her daughter enough to know that whatever it was, it had to be a step in a right
direction. Again, that swelling pride for her daughter returned. Now that they were all
reunited and the darkness of the past few days was finally receding, now that their family was
reunited at last after everything that had occurred these months, Pepper could finally rest
properly.

Bruce Wayne POV-

Alfred had gone into a cleaning frenzy when Damian had disappeared for days, and once
Damian returned, the old man had taken to making Damian's favorite meals and baking
excessively. Because of that prolonged time in the kitchen, even Alfred had no clue where
Damian was at the moment. It took Bruce searching the whole manor for a good half-hour
until he realized his son was not there.

No alarms had gone off, meaning he was still within the confines of the property. A small
reassurance that quelled his panicking heart.

The reason for his manhunt had purpose, it had taken Bruce days of working up his courage
to do this...and of course Damian was now missing.

The man tried his best to calm down his racing heart that whispered of assassins and
kidnappings, assuring himself that Damian wasn't taken again and that he was just being
difficult. More likely, Damian had just needed to get away from all the pestering his siblings
had been giving him after what happened. It was logical, not to mention it kept him from
sending everyone to search every inch of the property.

When Bruce eventually found his son, it was in one of the most unexpected places
imaginable. One he almost hadn't bothered checking.
The man gathered an umbrella from the stand near the glass double-doors and stepped out
into the unfriendly winter air of the backyard. Past the decorative shrubbery and the open
space dedicated to the pool, he ventured towards the tree-filled forest to the left. Briefly as he
traversed the lands of his namesake, he mourned the fact that this year's family snowball fight
celebrating the beginning of winter had been postponed due to all the mayhem the Joker was
partaking in. It was one of the few times all the family could gather out in the backyard for
fun. Snowflakes were gently cascading around him as the Wayne silently made his way to the
family graveyard where Damian was found standing before two very important graves.

The two not yet weathered by the elements the way most of the other graves were.

His son paid no mind to the snow piling atop his head, nor the fact that his clothing was
nowhere near warm enough to be out here at night. The light from the nearby victorian
lamppost illuminated his back and the diligent black Dane by his side. Similarly to his
master, Titus didn't seem very concerned by the weather as he sat on his hind legs...ready to
attack if necessary.

Bruce knew Damian was peeved about being on house arrest for the rest of the break, but
never in moments of anger had Damian turned to seeking solace in the cemetery of all places.
He was the kind to take out his anger on the shaped shrubbery, to go swim laps until he
simply couldn't go forward, or he'd lock himself in his art room until hunger drew him while
in splattered clothing and with paintbrushes tucked between his ear.

Now as the snow continued to fall around them, Damian stood silently before the looming
mausoleums, staring intently at the names of Bruce's parents with hands tucked against his
back...rubbing the still red wrists from whatever cuffs Bruce had seen him held him down
with. Bruce's silent steps stopped near the tree line where the light was scarce and he
remained out of sight. He'd planned to step forward and try and usher his son back inside, but
the man had caught the brief motion of his son's shoulders shifting as if he were taking a
breath to speak. Thus he waited curiously.

With a loud sigh, Damian spoke to the graves, "Sorry to break it to you, but your son is a
stubborn ass. Seeing as you birthed him, its only fair you listen to my complaints without
interruption"

Bruce chuckled at that, and when Damian and Titus turned to him, the man didn't hesitate to
moved to his son's side. He brought the large black umbrella above both of them, cradling the
box he'd brought against his other arm. Bruce spared his parents a single nod of
acknowledgment, one he hoped spoke a thousand words that he wouldn't be able to voice
before his son began questioning him. It's for that reason alone that he decided to beat him to
it.

"What are you doing out here?" Bruce asked, trying his best not to make it sound like he was
accusing him of anything.

But of course, thats not how his son took it.

Damian rolled his eyes, kicking the snow on the ground as he muttered, "What? I can't leave
the manor during my arrest?"
Bruce sometimes despised how his own lack of proper wording could become an enemy to
himself. He despised that he couldn't talk to his own son the way he'd been able to with his
own father. Bruce wondered if his parents were watching the exchange now, wondering how
their own flesh and blood had become so troubled by the mere aspect of a conversation.

"I didn't mean it like that, I was just asking what you are doing here specifically. You rarely
come to see your grandparents, much less to talk to them"

His son shrugged nonchalantly, "Maybe I just needed someone to vent to. Unlike all the
busybodies inside the manor, deceased grandparents can't argue in your favor"

Bruce smiled at that, pushing aside the insult if only because it was a small relief to see
Damian doing something other than stay in his room or training at the Batcave. Ever since
their return home, Bruce had stayed home from company and vigilante work as much as
possible. It helped that the Joker had likely been affected by what happened during Damian's
rescue, because the city was safe enough that Bruce could focus on his children for once.

Damian had refused to share anything of what had happened prior to the rescue and only let
Alfred treat his wounds in privacy shortly after getting back to the Manor. Though his
stubborn son probably despised it, they were all worried for him, knowing full well that him
being cuffed before all those assassins had probably meant he'd been about to be executed.
Most of them knew the laws of the assassins all too well after all.

Though Bruce was desperate for answers, he wasn't too desperate to know how close he'd
been to getting there too late to save his son's life at the same time. Yet he wanted to talk to
Damian regardless to ensure his son was doing alright, which reminded Bruce of the
unplanned excuse he'd devised to talk to his son. The package tucked against arm had been
delivered to the Manor hours ago, and after Tim ensured it wasn't an explosive or a poisoned
trap, it was clear to go to its recipient.

Everyone had wanted to open it to see for themselves what was inside, but this was from
Talia to Damian, and Bruce would respect that privacy even after all that had occurred. So
instead of trying to figure out why his son was truly out in the graveyard, he handed over the
package, watching as Damian frowned down at the familiar scripture of the small note held
together by the golden bow.

Damian began shaking the package as he mused bitterly, "Its heavy. Must be mother's
disappointment in me"

Bruce had no time to think of a way to explain that Damian was not a disappointment to him,
the teen was already tearing into the packaging and fished out a proper letter from within.
Damian didn't bother hiding its contents from Bruce as he held out the note with elegant
manuscript that could only belong to Talia.

You survived, but your foolishness has made me realize you have forgotten who you are,
Damian. You need to do better from now on. Given your little flamboyant display in the
coliseum, the council of the League of Assassins has forbidden you from returning home until
further notice, or until you prove you are the heir your grandfather would've wanted.
Because of this, I have sent you a few family items to keep as a way to remember your
heritage during what is likely to be a lengthly absence between us. You're stubborn like your
father, after all. As for the gifts I sent over, know someone has rightfully earned one of the
precious and meaningful heirlooms I included within. Best you use it well, my son.

Talia al Ghul.

Damian had earned a family heirloom? What could he have done to earn it if Talia spoke only
of betrayal?

Bruce couldn't help but be more curious as to what had happened during those days Damian
had gone missing. Surely it hadn't been pleasant if Talia was rewarding their son for
something.

Pocketing the letter, Damian silently opened the package further to reveal a leather journal
from Ra's al Ghul himself, no doubt detailing why his idea of mass genocide of the human
race were a good idea. There were some small weapons in there that were said to be from
generations past, all belonging to notable al Ghuls that Bruce had once seen hanging on the
walls in the office of the Daemon's Head. Simple daggers and knives Damian rolled his eyes
at, no doubt because he knew Talia was expecting him to bathe them in blood.

Bruce assumed that was it as far as the contents of the package went, that is until Damian
pulled out a small velvet black box...and inside it, was a ring.It was not the ring of Demon's
Head that was used by those who held the title of Ra's al Ghul as the leader of the League of
Assassins. Damian would likely not receive that one unless he chose to follow Talia's advice
to become like them. The ring was much smaller than the bulky thing with the League
symbol at its center. This one was more feminine, encrusted with little white diamonds all
along its circumference and rhombus shaped emerald at its center.

It was no doubt a very expensive ring, something only Ra's al Ghul—who'd lived for too
many centuries— could purchase and keep in good shape for centuries. In the small note
attached to the box, Talia mentioned it was the al Ghul family ring passed down through
generations. In fact, now that he thought about it, Bruce could've sworn he'd seen Talia
wearing it more than once.

Was this the woman's way to give her son something to remember her by? Maybe it was to
serve as a reminder of the mother he'd be abandoning if he didn't change his ways, the
weapons of his ancestors meant as a way to motivate him to follow their creed. Bruce knew
better than to think his son would fall for such flattery, that he'd consider rejoining the league
after how hard he'd worked to build a life in Gotham, but still his son gazed at the ring for a
long while before placing it back in its box with all the other contents like they were nothing
special.

Even the silence must've bene too much for Damian, because shortly after, the teen demanded
at last, "How did you find me?"

Bruce frowned at at the hidden thoughts and unspoken explanations. More than that, he
frowned in annoyance.
"I looked all over the mansion for you, thanks for that"

"Not now," Damian said with a scoff, "I meant, how did you find out where mother took
me?"

Remembering those days with no sign of Damian were like a blow to the gut. A reminder that
he could've been too late.

Shaking his head, Bruce replied honestly, "Tim and Dick said they talked to Jon as you
requested, that he mentioned he had a way to track you and the Stark who went missing that
day as well. Jon said you placed a special tracker in your katana, so we went to the Avenger's
Compound to see if the two beacons were close to one another to get a better reading. When
their signatures matched, we knew it had something to do with multiple assassins involved
and that we were fighting the same enemy. But then the signals went out, and we had no clue
how to get to you. The day we found you, your beacon came back on suddenly, and we
figured something terrible was happening or that it was a trap, but we rushed over as soon as
we could. It took a few minutes, but it seems we got there just in time"

Damian's eyes went wide then, whispering to himself, "It was mother...when I was sentenced
to death, she must've activated the tracker she took from me. She wanted you to come"

Sure enough, when Damian dug back into the box in hand...there, laying at the bottom of the
box in a way that almost invisible to the eye, was a minuscule tracking device smaller than a
fingernail.

Bruce had no idea why Damian had decided to put a tracker on his weapons, how he thought
to plan so far ahead for a potential danger or why he only gave Jon the way to track it. It
made the man realize Damian's trust in Bruce was weak enough that his own son trusted his
friend more than his father. That paired with all the realizations on his behavior from the past
few months he'd had when Damian went missing...it made it easier to say, "I'm sorry, son. I
know you're mad at me, feel like you're restrained, perhaps even more so than ever. But after
what happened to Barbara, when Jason died, and the times I thought Tim and Dick were gone
too, I just wanted to keep you safe. I don't want to lose you too"

"But you'll still keep me at home arrest?" Damian said, to which Bruce could only nod.

"I know you hate it, but you need to understand there are attempts on your life. After what
happened at the Bermuda Triangle...we've made a lot of enemies with very dangerous people.
I just want to keep you safe, but I might've overdone it by trying to 'control' your life. I
apologize for that, but not for keeping you here for now when it's for your own good,
especially after you were almost killed" Bruce added, seconds away from changing his
leveled tone and start pleading.

Despite the threat of Titus attacking, Bruce moved to place a hand on his son's shoulder, a
comforting gesture more for the man than Damian. Mindful that his son hated to be touched,
he removed it soon after.

"Your worry was unnecessary, father" Damian said casually, "Clearly I'm still very much
alive"
Bruce knew he was just trying to be tough, but said nothing more on the matter of what
happened and instead asked, "Are you going to tell me why you're truly out here now?"

Damian turned his gaze to towering marble mausoleums, sighing tiredly as he said,
"Speaking to the dead. Obviously"

Bruce did not believe that for a second. Damian was not one to go out on walks, much less
talk to a gravestone for no reason.

"But why?" Bruce pushed, too curious about this odd behavior to mind his son's intense glare.

"I've got nothing better to do"

The Wayne could think of a thousand things his son should actually be doing, things he
would chose to do if boredom gripped him. But Alfred always said pressing Damian for too
long wasn't something that would yield results. Talia wasn't wrong when she'd written that
Damian was plenty stubborn.

"You should be inside," Bruce said, brushing the stray snow off his black coat, "Your injuries
need rest to recover properly"

Damian looked back at where the mansion glowed with life in the distance, Titus turning to
observe as well.

"I've rested enough," Damian countered, "I don't need any more noodle soups delivered to
my bed from Pennyworth, nor for Dick to stay here to talk about useless things, or for
Stephanie to buy me new winter clothes to ensure I'm warm. I'm perfectly fine"

"Selina has been worried for you too. Maybe you should talk to her since she feels awful for
not being able to come with us to rescue you" Bruce added, recalling the way his wife had
been sleepless during Damian's absence, holding onto her cats and blaming pregnancy
hormones for her occasional tears.

In fact, Alfred had to force her to eat food for the sake of the baby during those uncertain
days while everyone else was 'allowed' their lack of appetite with a little more leisure from
Alfred since he too felt Damian's absence with worry of his own.

To Bruce's surprise, Damian actually agreed to his request, but he was rather hesitant as he
said;

"Perhaps I will go feed those stray cats with the woman to ease her ridiculous worries
tomorrow...Pray tell father, how did you get absorbed into her orbit anyways?

Damian was asking about feelings? Odd...but not the weirdest thing he'd witnessed from his
kids.

To be honest, Bruce wasn't sure how to explain the complexity of it all, much less to Damian
of all people who was convinced certain emotions were akin to allergic reactions. It was an
odd curiosity for him to focus on at a time like this, especially since Damian hadn't ever
bothered to ask Bruce that question, not even when he got engaged and then married to
Selina.

Why the curiosity now?

Still, Bruce was just glad their conversation was still ongoing. It was probably the longest
one so far without any worrisome fighting involved.

"It's wasn't on purpose that I fell for her. Looking back on it, I suppose it was unnerving at
first because it felt like loosing control of a vehicle. I knew it was illogical to like her when
she was a criminal at the time, but once I more or less accepted my emotions, things got
relatively easier" Bruce said, thinking back to all the trouble that hesitation cost him, how
much easier it would been if he wasn't so stubborn, or as Alfred once put it, 'unwilling to let
people in'.

Damian rolled his eyes at the words, and with the same aloofness as ever, he said, "I'm sure
the sexual intercourse helped with that hesitation"

Bruce huffed angrily, a warning not to push it with his rude comments...a warning Damian
always ignored.

"Why marry her then? Why risk the possibility of being bound to one another if you had
reservations?" his son asked, as if the whole thing didn't make sense, but he was oddly calm
about it. Assessing. Dissecting.

Bruce smiled at the graves of his parents. "My hesitations were not necessarily of her, but
more within myself, insecurities if you will. She pushed those insecurities way, she was
patient in a way that let me know she was the one I wanted to marry. You see, people marry
because they want to be around one another forever, Damian. It's a declaration of love that
may just be worth the risk"

Damian went quiet then, looking at the graves before them as well as he processed the words
that shouldn't be as important as Damian was making them out to be.

The Wayne knew his parents had loved one another, even when Bruce's father had been a
preoccupied man at times with his quest to better Gotham. Both of Bruce's parents had been
one of the reasons that helped him realize love was perhaps not as much of a hindrance as
he'd once expected. In truth, Bruce had dated so many women, slept with many more, but
none of them had been quite like Selina. A perfect balance. Now they had a family, a baby on
the way, and at the moment, they were all safe.

Before Bruce could try and figure out what really plagued Damian's mind, Alfred came out to
join them sort after, scolding both for being out in the cold and demanding they go inside for
some hot cocoa. They knew better than to challenge that order. To their surprise, when he and
Damian retuned with Titus in tow, they found everyone awake at the kitchen table nursing
their own cup of cocoa already. Though some might've normally been tempted to complain
about being awake at such hour, no one did so then, they simply welcomed them back in and
began pouring some molten chocolate and whip cream onto the empty cups at the table.
Bruce made to sit by his wife's side, placing a hand on her baby bump in greeting to his child.
Selina smiled at him, shooting him a secretive knowing grin that almost beamed with pride.
She knew why Bruce had been running around the manor today, had actually been in favor of
Bruce being the one to try and talk to Damian. Though Bruce hadn't figured much of what
went on in his son's mind, the teen did look slightly eased on the walk back...which is why he
genuinely smiled back at Selina, ready to bask in an unprompted family gathering.

Prior to his first sip, he noticed his youngest son hesitating by the opened doors with the
package clutched on one hand, and something in the other Bruce hadn't noticed before. It was
a golden chain Damian pocketed. It could've been a necklace or a bracelet, but Bruce hadn't
seen it inside Talia's package.

When the pestering from his siblings began, Damian's far off look vanished and turned into
his usual scowl, especially when Dick frantically brought over a blanket for him. Stephanie
began brushing off the snow from Damian's raven hair as the teen tried to drink his cocoa in
peace, but he didn't even snap when Jason began a tale of something or another to bother
Damian. It wasn't until a few minutes that Bruce realized the teen was not paying attention,
he was looking down at his phone.

Upon Selina's recent observations, Bruce knew Damian had been neglecting carrying his
phone around recently. It wasn't like him to do so since he often kept in contact with Jon, but
something about his trip to the Bermuda Triangle had changed the habit. Bruce had honestly
assumed his son wanted nothing to do with the outside world after the whirlwind he must've
faced But now as Damian stared down at the hidden device...the man could've sworn his son
smiled.

That might've been the exhaustion from the past few days, an illusion or trick of the mind.
But in the chance that his son truly was happy about something for once, Bruce was glad for
it. Damian had been so quiet and distant lately, enough that the man didn't even have the
heart to tell his son that he'd seen Ra's al Ghul that day they rescued him.

It was an impossibility since the man was supposed to be dead, having been murdered almost
six years ago. It had been a quick glance amidst the chaos, but Bruce would recognize his old
mentor anywhere. In some ways, it was no surprise Ra's was alive, but it was worrisome....

Many bad people are in prison, but the mastermind of a greater game was still out there
calling the shots. Wounds would mend, forces would likely reunite, and it was now up to
those tasked with protecting the world to find a way to stop the storm on its way.

For now, Bruce cataloged and filed away those pending thoughts in his mind, tried to bask in
the beautiful peace at the table. He would get the chance to face his enemies in the future, but
he'd never get moments like these back.

With the promise of a new child in the future and the unyielding determination to protect the
ones seated before him...Bruce refused to fail in protecting all of them, not again.

**** A Little Extra ****

Ra's al Ghul POV-

In Infinity Island located somewhere in the Caribbean Sea, the man many knew as the 'Head
of the Demon' was lounging on his desk, paperwork forgotten as he beheld the large TV on
the other side of his private office.

There was a girl being covered in American news, the daughter of Anthony Stark who the
world knew the as the famous billionaire and superhero. The girl looked ordinary to most,
nothing quite extraordinary to the commentators on the news. It took Ra's al Ghul merely a
minute to tell that girl was an assassin.

At first he mistook her for a woman he'd once seen on a visit to the Red Room, an instructor
for the young Russian girls training under Ivan's rule. As someone who turned back the clock
on youth quite often, he would not be surprised something similar had happened to the
woman, but Ra's was the only person with access to the Lazarus Pit.That meant, that the
teenage on screen was her offspring, the little red-headed girl from the Red Room he'd seen
many years ago.

When Ra's al Ghul had been invited for that 'diplomatic' visit, he'd witnessed the star pupils
perform as a common display of power between enemy guilds. If his assumptions were
correct, then that was the little Russian girl who'd killed fifteen teenage assassins with a
simple dagger and the expectations of her instructors breathing down her neck. It was an
interesting development for sure, even more so was the letter delivered to him the same
evening.

It was an elegant invitation even when its contents were anything but chivalrous. This was a
call to join a cause to destroy those who stopped the assassin's guilds to rise to the top, a very
crafty letter inviting Ra's al Ghul to attain alien technology to kill the heroes of the world.
Normally, he'd ignore such childish request from people who thought they could get
everything done by sheer force of will. Ra's al Ghul had been alive long enough to recognize
those with foolish dreams. This letter was very different though.

No one aside from his daughter and a handful of servants knew the he was alive and well,
and this letter was addressed to Ra's personally. Not only that, but there were detailed
documents of the monetary aid available for the cause. Millions of dollars worth. Though that
was odd, it wasn't an incentive. It was stated that in return for his services, Ra's al Ghul was
promised all decadent civilizations he wished to reform under his rule and philosophies.
Whoever wrote this knew the purpose of the League well enough to offer such a fitting
reward.

After sending out a few secret scouts to allied assassin guilds, the man realized he wasn't the
only one with the offer to join, but each guild was offered a personalized prize they too found
hard to decline. There were even rumors that enemy guilds like the Red Room and the
Dragon's Eye had received their own offers they'd accepted already. It would've been foolish
not to join now that many had pledged allegiance, and if the goal was to get to heroes and kill
them, perhaps it would give Ra's al Ghul the chance to check up on his grandson, finally
returning him to where he belonged.
The man settled back on his plush velvet chair, staring up at the TV with the daughter of Iron
Man on display. He couldn't help but ponder that perhaps many changes would come out of
this war, and there were certainly many rewards to be reaped from it. Those like that girl and
her father would end up suffering the price.

Ra's al Ghul did not exactly want heroes to fall, he'd rather they fight the dangerous enemies
like aliens and varying evolving monsters for him...but he also knew that if the League was to
expand and rebuild, it had to do so quickly while the world was still changing. It's why he
quickly sent back a reply, uncaring who it was that sent the letter as log as their deal was
agreed upon and honored. But Ra's al Ghul HAD sent out one more request along with his
terms and conditions.

If heroes were to fall, then Ra's suggested the first to die should would be the famed
Detective of Gotham and his family. If they were removed from Damian's life, that would
leave his foolish grandson no choice but to get rid of that ridiculous fantasy of protecting that
family and instead return where he belongs. Going hand in hand with that unfortunate fate,
Ra's knew the boy needed a few tests of strength to get back to what he was before Bruce
Wayne sunk his claws into him.

Ra's respected Bruce's skills, abilities, the determination to work hard to reach his goals, not
to mention they both had the similar belief that the world needed to change for the better. But
thats where the two collided in disagreement. The Demon's Head knew the only way to
achieve such a dream was though a worldwide cleansing, and to install his heir as the ruler so
that he may modeling the world to their liking in the shadows. The detective, on the other
hand, had a strong and misplaced sense of protecting the innocent and the weak.

That was their main point of contention, but despite the respect between the two, their
clashing views were enough for Ra's to know that he and his family had to die.

Even with Talia and Damian standing in the middle of it all due to their connections to the
Wayne name, the man knew without a doubt that Talia would push back her affection for
Bruce to support her own father. As for Damian...despite not having seen his grandson in a
while, the man knew that while Damian held his mother and grandfather in high regards, he
was currently blinded by a wrong path, following in his father's misplaced footsteps. That
needed to stop now before it took root, and even if it already had, Ra's wouldn't mind ripping
those from the ground if necessary.

The mystery individual calling himself Cobalus had granted a few control over the famed
Joker for such a mission not long after their acceptance of terms. Since then, the Demon's
head had been using the clown to test the strength of the Detective and his family, as well as
Damian. Talia was unaware of the depth of those strings of course, as was anyone else other
than Cobalus and the Joker, who gladly took to his job if it meant getting rid of the Batman or
at least wounding him severely enough.

Things were changing, he could tell. Yet perhaps this time around, Ra's al Ghul would finally
get everything he wanted without having to lift a single finger himself.
 ~Fin~

Chapter End Notes

Wow, I just want to say thank you so much for reading this first book. For the longest
time it was just something I was writing notes for mindlessly and chapters in between
writers block, but it became one of my most ambitious writing projects to date.

I feel like it really pushed me to grow as an amateur writer, one who has learned to love
writing because I get to make people happy more than anything. Don't worry thought,
Brook's story has many books in the works, but I hoped you enjoyed seeing her growth
from where she was at the begging to where she is now. This was truly a journey of self
discovery for her, a chance to learn about life and emotions so she could become her
own person, one who will have to overcome much in the future. My hope is that you
may have learned some things as well, things that can help you grow and dare to reach
beyond what you might deem capable.

I'm currently editing the chapters as much as I can between writing so there will be
many extra scenes added into everything. Maybe once I'm done editing the first book,
I'll add a little note to let you guys know in case you want to re-read it again.

It's been 96 chapters. 2 universes, but 1 world. What a ride.

Thank you all for reading! *tries to hug the world so I can hug all of you*

Also....Book 2 is out, so if you'd like please check it out! I'll probably start updating that
book soon.
 ~Character List~
Chapter Notes

Now that we're at the end of the story, I thought I should add this stuff to keep
information available for the future of the story. Here is a list of all the characters, their
ages, and occupations as well as hero names. Hopefully this way things won't be as
confusing.

(Midtown)

Brooklyn Rosa Jones Stark/10453 (16) Stark Industries

Damian Wayne ~Robin~ (16) Wayne Enterprises
Peter Benjamin Parker ~Spider-man~ (16)
Yelena Belova Stark/10453 (16)
Jonathan Samuel Kent/Jon-El ~Superboy~ (16)
Tanya Bennett (16)
Harold ‘Harry’ Theopolis Osborn (16)
Michelle ‘MJ’ Jones-Watson (16)
Edward “Ned’ Leeds (16)
Betty Brant (16)
Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson (16)
Cindy Moon (16)

(Avengers)

Anthony ‘Tony’ Edward Stark ~Iron man~ (46) Stark Industries

Steven Grant Rogers ~Captain America~ (99)
Natasha Romanoff/Natalia Alianovna Romanova ~Black Widow~(33)
Dr. Robert Bruce Banner (48)~Hulk~ (12)
Wanda Marya Maximoff ~Scarlet Witch~ (19)
Clinton ‘Clint’ Francis Barton ~Hawkeye~(35)
Samuel ‘Sam’ Thomas Wilson ~Falcon~ (39)
Scott Edward Harris Lang ~Ant Man~ (38)
James ‘Rhodey’ Rupert Rhodes ~War Machine~ (49)
Vision Stark ~The Vision~ (2)
Dr. Stephen Strange ~Doctor Strange~ (41)
T’Challa, son of T’Chaka ~Black Panther~(37) King of Wakanda
Princess Shuri ~Aja-Adanna~(16)
Thor Odinson ~Thor~ (around 15,000)
Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts (43) Stark Industries
Nicholas ‘Nick’ Joseph Fury Sr. ~Director Fury~ (67)

(Batfam)

Bruce Thomas Wayne ~Batman~ (54) Wayne Enterprises

Selina Kyle ~Cat Woman~ (55)
Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson-Wayne ~Nightwing~ (31)
Timothy ‘Tim’ Jackson Drake-Wayne ~Red Robin~ (23) Wayne Enterprises
Jason ‘Jay’ Peter Todd-Wayne ~Red Hood~ (26)
Barbara ‘Babs’ Joan Gordon-Wayne ~Batgirl~ (33)
Cassandra Cain-Wayne ~Orphan~ (25)
Stephanie Brown-Wayne ~Spoiler~ (24)
Alfred Pennyworth (no one dares ask for his age)
Titus (?)
Bat Cow and Alfred the Cat (?)

(Kents)

Clark Joseph Kent/ Kal-El ~Superman~ (46)

Lois Joanne Lane (46)
Laura Kent/Lara Kal-El (14)
Jane Kent/Jana Kal-El (5) & Carol Kent/ Cara Kal-El (5)
Kara Danvers/Kara Zor-El ~Supergirl~ (49, possibly more cause…space)
Martha Kent (64)
Krypto (?)

(Wealth of the world)

Norman Virgil Osborn (48) Oscorp

Alexander ‘Lex’ Joseph Luthor (46) LexCorp
Lana Lang-Luthor (46) LexCorp
Alexander ‘Lex Jr” Joseph Luthor Jr (16) LexCorp
Reed Richards ~Mister Fantastic~ (50) Richards Industries
Susan ‘Sue’ Storm-Richards ~Invisible Woman~ (49) Richards Industries
Franklin Richards (14) Richards Industries
Oliver Jonas Queen ~Green Arrow~ (47) Queen Industries
Felicity Smoak-Queen (45) Queen Industries
Mia Queen (19) Queen Industries
Warren Kenneth Worthington III ~Archangel~ (36) Worthington Industries
Professor Charles Francis Xavier ~Professor X~ (60) Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Dr. Harrison Wells (50) STAR Labs
Bartholomew Henry Allen ~The Flash~ (28) STAR Labs
Doctor Victor Von Doom ~Doctor Doom~ (50) King of Latveria

(Justice League and Teen Titans)

Diana Prince/Diana Princess of Themyscira ~Wonder Woman~ (over 5,000)

J’onn J’onzz ~Martian Manhunter~ (225 million)
Arthur Curry ~Aquaman~ (32)
Hal Jordan ~Green Lantern~ (35)
Koriand’r Grayson-Wayne ~Starfire~ (32)
Victor ‘Vic’ Stone ~Cyborg~ (33)
Rache; Roth ~Raven~ (16)
Garfield Mark Logan ~Beast Boy~ (16)

(Assassins)

Ivan Petrovich Bezukhov ~Ivan the Great~ (52) Red Room

90170 (Brooklyn’s Mom) (43) deceased
Ra’s al Ghul ~The Demon’s Head~ (around 500) League of Assassins
Talia al Ghul (51) League of Assassins
Mara al Ghul (cousin of Damian) ~Demon’s Thumb~ (19)
 ~Music~
Chapter Notes

As per requested, here is a list of the songs of the story so far!

Love and War - Fleurie

You are going to hate this - The Frights
Lovely - Billie Eilish/ Khalid
Up to no good - Hoosiers
A good song never dies - Saint Motel
Space Age Love Song - A Flock of Seagulls
Lovely (cinematic version) - Billie Eilish/ Khalid
Dynasty - Miia
Do it all the time - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me
One eye open - Lola Blanc
My Way - Frank Sinatra
Hurts like hell - Fleurie
The Underdog - Spoon
Black Flies - Ben Howard
Stressed out - Twenty one pilots
The greatest - Lana Del Rey
Love Story (Minor Key cover by Sarah Cothran) - Taylor Swift
For the Departed · Shayfer James
Valentine’s dance tango - The twins
Fairy Tale - Alexander Rybak
Wanting Moves - Pantyraid
Paint it black - Hidden Citizens
Lost on you - LP
The Good Part - AJR
You killed me on the moon - BLOW
In my veins - Andrew Belle
Blue Monday - New Order
The Chain (slowed down) - Fleetwood Mac
Movement - Hozier
7 years - Lukas Graham
Should I stay or should I go - The Clash
Swan lake - Tchaikovsky
Only you - Yazoo
Bloodstream - Stateless
Cold Cold Cold - Cage the Elephant
Save it for later - The English Beat
Nothing but thieves - Honey Whiskey
The Hunted - Snow Ghosts
Wasting Time - Katie Herzig
It's been a long, long time - Kitty Kallen
Academic decommitment - Michael Giacchino
This Will Be - Natalie Cole
Highway to hell - AC/DC
Do I wanna know - Arctic Monkeys
Waltz of the flowers - Tchaikovsky
Come out to play - Billie Eilish
How soon is now - AG
Falling for ya (slowed)- Grace Phipps
Let you know - Sody
A little party never killed nobody - Fergie
Electric Love - BORNS
Holocene - Bon Iver
Bad Guy - Billie Eilish
Farmhouse - Danny Elfman
Material Girl - Madonna
Ophelia - The Lumineers
Arcade - Duncan Laurence
Circles - Greta Svabo Bech, Ludovico Einaudi
Another Love - Tom Odell
Carmen - Georges Bizet
What a man gotta do - Jonas Brothers
Dark Paradise - Lana Del Rey
Forever - Chvrches
Love maze - BTS
Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks
This is why we can’t have nice things - Taylor Swift
Feeling Good - Apache/Cherry Lena
Running up that Hill - Kate Bush
Dropped - Phantom Planet
Twisted - MISSIO
Burning Love - Elvis
I love you - Billie Eilish
Works inspired by this one

Sand Castles and Garden of Thorns by Loriavx

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