❝The Hauntingly Embarrassing Misadventures of Arvee Stark❞

BLURB⬎

Arvee 'Stark' - 15 years old - adopted daughter of Tony Stark.

Why, you might wonder, did I throw that last bit in there? It's practically my 'get out of jail free card', oh, but note to self; calling myself Arvee Stark does not work well on the bad guys.

So, you might wonder how the hell I ended up as the daughter of a billionaire. Smart question. He adopted me for the child support money.

Wait, did that first part of that paragraph give me away? Probably. The last thing Tony Stark needs in money. He did, however (Apparently) have need of a teenager who can manipulate her density.

Said teenager is apparently more trouble than she's worth. I don't even use my get out of jail free card that often - I'm not a go-out-get-drunk-underage kind of a girl, more of a oh-hey-that-guy's-kidnapping-a-baby-lets-fight-him-oh-wait-that-was-his-baby kind of girl, although to be clear, that was one time.

So apparently real world experience is a big thing, so here I am a year after my impromptu adoption after Tony found me floating at the top of the avengers tower (I was happy, okay?), back in Brooklyn a few blocks away from my old home base. Personally I blame the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman for being too friendly to stop the 'I hate superheroes' club from, well, hating superheroes. So, looks like we're going to have to work together to stop them - seriously, it needs to be done, their logo is terrible - and that's not even the worst part. I have to go to school, and, y'know, smile at people n stuff.

[01] GRUMPY BEGINNINGS ⬎

So, you might be wondering how I ended up floating at the top of the avengers tower, or possibly why there's a group of people running around Brooklyn with 'I hate super heroes shirts', but I feel like telling you the first story now so...

Plus, with my personality, I probably need a tragic backstory to keep you reading, not that I'm an insecure teen or anything.

So anyway, with someone with as big of a thing for superheroes as me, it's no surprise I ended up at the avengers tower. It's not even a wow-they-save-the-world thing it's more of a wow-they're-awesome-people-thing. You can be awesome without saving the world, trust me *insert winky face here*.

Thor saved my life once, as in, specifically mine; he lifted a burning bus off me during the, er, remodeling of New York. I don't think he meant to (It's the Hero Complex), or even would have if he knew I would later post too-flattering-but-super-popular pictures of his brother online. I haven't seen Loki's abs, okay? Anyway, it was a social experiment, I was challenging popular opinion.

In any case, I ended up at the avengers tower delivering pizza for a couple bucks. I'd set up home base intentionally close to a pizza place. Yes, I was homeless, but I can also make a mean margarita.

So things were looking up (finally) and three guesses who ordered the pizza? Apparently super soldiers don't need to stick to healthy diets to stay fit.

Unfortunately my body decided the front door was too mainstream, and since when I get happy my density goes way down... well, you get the idea.

Very few people seemed to notice the human balloon floating up one of the most high security offices in the city, but this is the city after all.

Tony Stark has one of the top offices, apparently he doesn't have to worry about little things like explosives with a super suit. I wouldn't know *hint hint*. Of course I'm gonna sound super spoilt (and right now I am) but I'm 90% sure the graphics tablet i got for my birthday was Tony dodging the opportunity to give me a high tech suit.

It's not even like he's scared to send me into danger, or introduce me to the world. I'm pretty sure he just doesn't want me using weapons for people who run over ducklings.

I love ducks.

Where was I? Right, so Tony looks up and sees me, and then he turns back to his computer and keeps typing. I guess he's trying to keep the whole 'suave super hero thing' going.

I guess it kind of worked, it's hard to envision Tony all superhero-y after actually living with him.

Turns out he was filing a report on me then and there. I guess rare floating creatures such as myself must be documented. Gotta catch 'em all I guess. Then, he gestures for me to come in.

I apologize, by the way, to the poor soul who got pelted in the head with a couple flying pizzas. I shot upwards, and it took me a moment to sink back down, the slight issue of my entrance entering my mind.

The far-too-mainstream front door left me with one option; the window.

Tony, the respectful person that he is, neglected mentioning that the windows opened outwards. I do, however, refuse to admit that my first injury in the business came from a window frame. At the time, it was far to easy to slip through the narrow gap the window left open. I'd been snitching pizza crusts for only about two weeks, and I probably burned just as much running around delivering them.

"What were you doing up there?" Tony asks, an eyebrow raised, like yeah, this happens everyday, unruly teens can't keep their feet on the ground.

Because I'm the one telling the story, I'm sorely tempted to twist things slightly, and put witty words into my mouth. You know what? This writing is a lot of work, I'm gonna take artists licence and ignore the happy, floating, fangirling mess that was me then, and continue on.

"I was in the area, thought I'd fly by." I say. Yes, you're going to have to deal with a ton of bad puns throughout the story.

Tony's demur doesn't really communicate it, but he can read people cover to cover with a single glance most of the time. It's a pretty useful skill, but it makes sneaking out hella difficult.

Of course, at the time, it didn't take a genius to tell that I was homeless, or had 'powers'. In the interest of this not being cheesy, I'm gonna call these 'powers' abilities, because somewhere out there I'm sure there's a logical explanation. At least I wasn't bitten by a radioactive spider, although that turned out surprisingly well. Ehem, Peter Parker.

So Tony picks up on the fact that I had abilities (Hmm, I wonder how...) as I try and get my feet back on the ground.

"Pizza delivery girl, huh?" Tony asks.

"Hmm?" I say, dodging a light and grabbing onto a chair. I'm still pretty happy, and there are several things I can do to stop that - but I'm no mood to start bawling in the middle of one of the most expensive buildings in Brooklyn, so I grab onto a chair and pull myself down.

"Tragic backstory?" Tony asks, leaning back in his chair. I nod. "Parent's dead?" I consider this, and then nod. "Shunned all your life?" He asks. I nod again. "Perfect." Tony says, "you'll be a wonderful addition to our crew, I can see the publicity already."

Hah. Nope. But that is how many superheroes go, I've gotta say. The actual conversation was pretty deep and meaningful (Me? Meaningful?) but of course, it probably doesn't do well for Tony's reputation, because he really does sound like his Dad a lot of the time.

So maybe I ramble a bit, because that was an unnecessarily long piece for what it covered. Eish. You should see me making comic strips...

***

As I'm sure you all know, the first day at a new school is hell. Also, Tony enrolled me mid-year, so it's not like I can just sneak to the back of the class unnoticed. Why can't that damn superhero hating club pull a Voldemort and start up at the end of the year? Also, I have physics first, so my first day of school was hell in hell.

I haven't gone to a proper school in a long time. I've had a bit of tutoring since Tony took me in, but my priorates were, strangely enough, stuff like not taking flight or sinking through the ground as I live through those infamous teenage mood swings. So no, I'm not 'The net-ionic equation is...' kind of smart, I'm more of a 'The door says pull so you pull it, you egg' kind of smart. Also, I have a hella good memory. Yup, I'm bragging, but those of us who don't have gold reports have to remind others that we're made out of skin, not exam marks. Skin is pretty flexible. That sounded serial-killerish, but I was trying for a metaphor.

I'm not gonna lie, I wanted to give myself a really good reputation here - like, one of the pretty nice girls, or the funny devil-may-care ones, but I'm pretty sure that's not how stereotypes work, and I was assigned 'Moody don't-fuck-with-me girl' by the end of the day. I don't like authority, okay?

Why did I accept a powerful, father figure by the name of Tony Stark, you might ask? One reason; he's a freaking superhero, I mean, priorities.

So I came into school with a half smile and a backpack that cost more that a weeks work at the pizza place. A bunch of people are like 'Hey!' and try and kidnap me, with friendly intent of course, because 'I got the new girl' is like bragging rights. I'm looking for Peter Parker, because that's my mission, and also I persuaded Tony to let the whole thing be a surprise.

So scaring the living daylights out of my partner is a terrible idea, I get it. I considered doing the whole 'double identity' thing in secret, but we all know that would come back to bite.

Tony had a bunch of images of Peter, in and out the suit. His main instructions were to look for a guy with a frog in his mouth, dripping with fatherly affection of course.

Peter's first class was biology (I'm not a stalker, I just have a super good memory, I swear). Most of my classes are with him, by no accident of course, but I would not under any circumstances do biology, so I took the plunge and ended up sitting with a couple girls at the back of the classroom.

And then things started going down hill.

Not because of the girls of course. They were lovely, except I really, really didn't want to think about 'Kiss, fuck, marry' when it included my adoptive father.

No, the problems started when the class started. So maybe I was a little on edge. Once I might have even sunk through the floor, god knows how I'd explain that. Rather than a human shaped hole in the floor, my legacy is currently a name on a detention slip. A little better, but Tony isn't gonna be clapping.

First of all, Miss Leeson pronounced my name as 'Air-vee'. Maybe it's her accent, I don't know. My mother must've had a thing for unusual names. My full name is Arvella Emeline-Macey Darning - although it's Stark now I guess. You'd think I grew up in a mansion from the sound of my names, but I'm pretty sure my mum just thought it sounded cool when she yelled at me.

Not that she was around to do that.

Okay, I just dragged this down a rabbit hole of self-pity and despair, whoops. Also, I was busy complaining about my Physics class. I'm good at complaining. It's an art I practice a lot.

So, as the innocent human that I am, I corrected her. Now, I'm not especially good at moderating my tone. Like I said, I'm on edge, so my correction probably sounded like 'I don't want to be here (True) I hate the world (False... Mostly)'. I guess that wasn't a great start, and so Miss Leeson very subtly got out her knife aaand...

Nah, I left class during the second half. She was too controlling, and I as a petty, also terrified, teenager snuck out the back door, apparently rather noticeably. I might've gotten away with it, if I hadn't had the bright idea of hiding around the corner to calm my breathing, because, you know, panic attack + speed walking is a terrible idea.

Panic attack? Yeah, I'm not precisely sure where that came from, also, it sounds a hell of a lot less petty than 'sobbing'. Imagine a pregnant elephant sitting on your chest while you breathe through a straw into a juice box. Like asthma, but while simultaneously having the room shrink around you.

Yeah, too many people, not enough space. It doesn't help that I'm trying too hard to get myself under control.

I must've succeeded in scrubbing the tears off my face, because Miss Leeson hands me a yellow slip, lips pursed, eyebrows raised, and with no comments. Yay me.

It takes me a while to find the principles office. The school was built a while ago, and then has clearly been added to... And added to some more. I feel like a lab rat running through a maze - and trust me, I know how that feels.

Also, I don't hurry. Yay for darkish skin; it makes tear tracks and red eyes stand out far less.

The principals office door is shut, and I'm in no hurry to get inside. There's one other person in the hallway, someone with brown hair. I slide into the one beside the guy.

"Oh, hi," he says, turning, his eyes wide.

Is that... "Peter Freaking Parker?"

[02] YOU WONT BELIEVE THIS FALSE HOPE ⬎

I was not prepared for this. I should have been, I didn't even consider the fact that fighting super villains would fuck up attendance.

I wish I'd said something intelligent, like 'You're the guy with the Stark internship right?' But what came out was "you look shorter out of costume"

Whoops, the cats out of the bag now.

I could see his adams apple bob as he swallowed nervously. "What costume?" He asks, poking the metaphorical sleeping bear just in case I was just being weird. I am, but that wasn't really my point.

I also missed the chance to shake his hand like 'Agent V. at your service' because V is definitely going to be my superhero name, but that would be like kicking a man when he was down. Also, I was wearing skinny jeans and a Starwars hoody. I can practically feel him judging me. Either people normally wear nicer clothing or he's a Star Trek fan, in which can I'm letting the 'I hate superheroes' club get at him.

So I might have a flare for the dramatic, sue me.

"Uh, I mean, hello." I say. That'll fool him.

But he doesn't run around town in a superhero costume for nothing. Also, his eyebrow raise is on fleek. I wish I could make that expression. You'd think living with Tony for a year would teach me how to make sarcastic expressions.

"Spiderman," I add helpfully.

"I'm not-" He goes to protest, but the principle's door screeches open. A senior student slips out in front of him and speed walks away.

Oh gods, I can already feel my feet sinking through the floor. Yes, gods. I'm not especially religious, but I read Percy Jackson a couple years ago, and I forget it's weird to say 'gods' as an expression. I'm not exactly up with social norms either. I do disguise this wonderfully, by the way.

"Peter," The principal says, his tone dripping in disappointment and resignation. "No biology homework I presume?"

Peter nods, and the principal sighs and waves his hand. "You need to balance the internship and your other school work." He says, and hands out a prepared slip. Wow, Peter must have quite the record. He takes it, shoulder's slumped.

"Back to class." The principal orders, sending me a sideways glance.

Peter gives me a once over, nodding slightly. I'd like to say that was a 'we'll talk later' kind of a gesture, but turns out he was just being awkward.

Seriously, this was Spiderman? I wonder if spiders are this awkward.

***

So no, turns out that wasn't a 'we'll talk later' nod. Detention was after school Friday, so I had another day, because, yes, let's start a new school on a Thursday, great idea. I followed Peter after school (In the most non-stalkerish way possible), and kept note of the alley he disappeared into. With a moment of concentration, I put my density way down and slipped through the wall into the alley where he'd gone.

I forgot I'm not invisible, even when I'm as light as air.

"What?" Peter squeaks. Oh, great, looks like he hasn't gotten his suit on yet.

"Uh..." I swallow, "so, Tony - Tony Stark, sent me?" I offer. I'm staring, a little, I admit. I wonder if Loki's abs are that good? I should take up fan art again...

Peter fumbles with his suit and pulls it on, leaving the head piece off.

"I'm doing fine," Peter says.

I shrug, "so are the villains. Plus, I need real world experience."

"Can you..." he gestures to the wall.

"I can manipulate my density," I explain.

"Cool, so you can like, let bullets go right through you?" His suspicion is pushed away by shock for a fleeting moment.

I hadn't thought of that. "Well duh." I say.

Peters eyes narrow suddenly, distrust returning. "You know I'm going to need proof."

I chuckle nervously. "Yeah, well I'm guessing Tony's gonna be at my apartment soon to chew me out for getting detention." In retrospect, I probably could have pulled the 'Tony Stark is my father card' as well, and I'm not entirely sure why I don't. I guess it's the whole 'parenthood must be earned' kind of thing I've got going.

"Well," Peter says, shifting from foot to foot uncertainly. "I'm going on patrol." I see an invitation hovering on his lips, but I guess he doesn't want to deal with a suspicious possible enemy and suspicious definite enemies at the same time.

I shrug, "okay, well, I'll find you later on."

"How?" Peter asks.

"I live in the apartment below you." I say, "er, Ton - Mr Stark, told me where you live, just in case being in the same class all day wasn't enough." Peter had been shooting me 'looks' all day. I'm also pretty sure he told his friend about me, but I guess that's to be expected.

"Well then..." Peter says, pulling on his helmet and standing up fluidly.

"I'll be 'round at your house with some home-baked cookies later on." I lie. I fully intend to visit Peter's house, but with home baked cookies? Please, I'm trying to get off to a good start, and poising him and his aunt would not achieve that.

"Keep the superhero talk to a down low." Peter warns, shooting a web to the sky and pulling himself up deftly.

His movements are just as graceful in and out of the suit. He might be slightly less assured when dressed in baggy clothing but I'm surprised his double identity has stayed a secret for this long.

Then again, not many people believe that a teenager like, well, Peter, can save a goal, let alone a city. Am I surprised by Tony's choice of suit holder? A little. Disappointed? Honestly? Nope.

I swing by the gym on the way home. I've been training for the past year, because I haven't been bitten by anything, radio-active or otherwise, barring the mosquitoes in the area, and I figure the bad-guys won't be respectful enough to keep the running to the minimum.

At this point, I'm pretty fit, but only because I can't float everywhere. It's surprising, really, because I learned how to lighten the density of the weights I was lifting pretty early on. It's not that I hate working hard, it's just that I hate working out.

I also get a box of cookies on the way home, hurrying through the streets so I avoid encountering anybody. I'm sure you can guess, but after eight o' clock things start to get sketchy, and also the street lamps don't work wonderfully well.

I fumble with my keys into my apartment, half expecting to find it unlocked. It isn't like Tony is particularly invasive, but apparently good grades are part of the superhero job requirements.

You might be wondering why I chose a tiny apartment in an average apartment block, rather than a larger, nicer one, somewhere else. Especially because money isn't an issue. First of all, I'm used to being stingy, and second of all... I wanted to be near Peter.

Kidding, kidding.

Our close proximity was out of Tony's convenience, in case we both fuck up at the same time. Then he can yell at us both.

Really, I just don't know what I'd do with all the empty space in a bigger apartment. Seriously though, build a Lego mansion? This place however... I don't know how to make the description of a place I genuinely love amusing.

I resist the urge to simply float up through the floor. In my patchy education, I learnt that mathematicians were lazy. Not in a bad way; they simply found the fastest way to solve something. Well, I'm the same. I call it efficiency, but unfortunately logic wins here. I take the lift.

I knock too softly - I forget more people will welcome me in if I don't smell like a dumpster - but the door swings open before I can knock again. It's Peter, I guess he's been on the look out.

"Who's that?" A voice calls from the next room.

"Uh, friend from school." Peter says, stepping aside.

I fiddle with the corner of the plastic on the cookies. "Yeah, I just moved in and..." I trail off and smile at the woman who's entered the room.

"Oh, hey honey." She says, smiling.

"I brought these," I hand her the cookies, she takes them, smiling. "I would have baked them, but I can't bake, and I figured wrapping them up would be lying. I don't lie..." I look at Peter significantly. I was pretty proud of myself for hinting that at the time, but you know when you say something and then get the implications later? Peter didn't accuse me of lying, but that's what it looked like I was saying. The reference wasn't even that subtle; May catches on easily.

Social skills are like algebra. You've got to know the equation before the end result to get it right. Unfortunately reading the future isn't among my many skills.

"We have leftovers if you want any," May offers, already going to the fridge.

"Uh, Aunt May? The principal wanted me to bring her up to speed on some of the stuff in our classes." Peter says, edging towards a door leading off the kitchen area.

May nods, but the dreaded 'leave the door open' doesn't come. Peter waits for me to walk inside in front of him and eases the door shut.

"Wow, she's awesome." I say. I'm going to sound like a dog at the entrance of the freezing works here, because I can see the kind of life that people live, and I want it.

"Got your Mr Stark?" Peter asks, sitting down on his bunk bed. I join him.

Peter could use a bigger apartment to store his stuff in, and a lot more wall for the posters. I sit down awkwardly beside him. Yeah, yeah, I'm on a guy's bed. Is that something people my age are still giggly about?

I pull out my phone and bring up Tony's briefing. Before I'd been wondering why he needed to tell me to apprehend the group causing trouble in the area. Like hello? Am I just gonna forget and actually focus on school instead? But I guess it's a smart call.

"And that's it?" Peter asks, still eyeing the screen once it's done.

"If I was that good at photo editing I'd go into art and design, not crime fighting." I point out.

"True, true." Peter says.

"So do we make some kind of map?" I ask, "to scan the city?"

"Secret bases are better hidden than you'd expect," Peter said. I seriously doubt that; I've lived in one for half my life.

"We're meant to be proactive." I say, trying to moderate my tone. We've already learned that I'm about as good at that as Captain America would be at a stealth mission.

Peter glares, "Patrol is proactive."

I hold up my hands, "woah, sorry. It's just, I can probably help a lot with the combing of the city - If we were to do it."

"We've got to be where the action happens." Peter says.

"You know what?" I ask, tapping my phone against my thigh, "I have a whole wall in my apartment that we can use."

"What, like put up pictures of suspicious people and connect them all?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that a little creepy?" Peter asks. Point made, but at this point it hardly matters.

I shrug and then grin. "I have a printer and a bunch of drawing pins, we might as well practice our stalking skills, we're going to need them at some point."

"What? When?" Peter asks. I can see he's a little concerned for my mental health. I'd like to ensure you all I only stalk people on Monday's and Thursday's, which isn't creepy at all...

"I'm sure it'll come up, do they test you on stuff like this in school?" I ask.

"Oh yes, we'd better go study tomorrow then." Peter says.

"You forget, I have detention." I say, making a face at the prospect. "I'm surprised Tony hasn't called me up."

"Usually Happy does all that stuff." Peter says.

"Oh, well, I guess Tony thought I'd need extra handling?" I say. I'm not sure how to explain that he adopted me. Is that something Peter would get jealous over? I guess a billion dollars is something to get jealous over. Er, and Tony Stark is too of course. He's a real treasure.

And because avoiding awkward conversations is my forte, I begin to sink through the floor, sparks flashing off my body as I go down.

"No kidding." Peter says, as my arms disappear, and then, "wait, wait, wait. You've got to go through the front door, Aunt May's gonna notice if you just disappear."

"Right," I say, rising back up into the room. More gold sparks flicker up and down my body as I move my density. Yeah, gold sparkles. I promise this isn't a Disney movie. "Well, I'll see you at school tomorrow." I say, silently praying that I'd make it through the day without flipping out.

"Yeah, bye." Peter says, already opening the door. Wow, someone's anxious for me to leave.

[03] HALLELUJAH MY ASS ⬎

So you might be wondering about my backstory, the whole thing I mean. I suppose I better give you a run down, because it's not like I'm ever going to bring it up in conversation. I'd rather give someone the whole of the avengers secret files than my own story. Remind them never to let me into their group... Oh, wait.

So, why do I mention this here or now? Well, you're different; if you tell anyone they'll put you in a mental hospital. I'll make sure to visit sometime, don't worry. I'll also bring daggers. Do worry.

Anyway, little baby me was given to an 'experimental treatment place'. Yes, it's an evil laboratory somewhere in the city where they experiment on humans, given to them by mothers who need some extra cash. Most kids are in there for their very short life, but my mother, the angel that she is, decided she wanted me back.

For whatever reason, the laboratory has a strict 'no-return' policy. What's wrong with mutants running about the street?

Mama got me out, and then blew up the whole facility, because she can't bake (I get that from her) and there wasn't a supermarket nearby to get them a better 'thank-you-for-fucking-up-my-daughter' present.

Before you ask, I have no idea who my father is, or what they did to me to enable me to manipulate the density of myself and the things around me. I'd give you some long winded explanation, but science doesn't really accommodate for logical explanations surrounding superheroes.

Thinking back, my mother is a questionable human being, and that probably explains her death. We lived in some of the subway tunnels for a while, so I guess I didn't see the wanted posters up for her. I was about eleven, and Mama told me to hide when the police came knocking at our non-existent front door.

I wasn't particularly good at controlling my density back then, so I ended up sinking through the floor as the police took her away. I learned much of my fighting skills from Mama, who was hella good at it. Why she thought it was a good idea to teach a kid how to dismember someone with whatever sharp things are available, I have no idea, but I get my skill from her.

So of course she fought, and she did pretty well, except for the small matter of guns. Unless you want me to go into detail about the blood on the ground (Please don't ask) then take my word for it; she died.

I know I sound pretty dethatched, but hey, lather on a thick layer of satirical humour over the sadness and everything will be fine.

In case you were wondering, I remember the lab quite well. I was there long enough to remember feeling proud when a white-coat told me I wasn't a screw up, and I'd done the maze in record time. That was mainly because I can go through walls, but cheating isn't apparently a big deal for evil scientists.

Is evil a strong word? Probably. Do I give a damn? Nope. I hope you don't either, because I need you to stick with me here.

I could probably go on to describe the wonderful feeling of freedom when I got out of that place, and how beautiful the smoggy sky was, and how clean the polluted air was. At the time I was all like 'Hallelujah', then I learned what the outside world was like.

I know, I'm a pessimist. I'd love to say that I'm sensibly realistic, but at least with pessimism I'm right a lot of the time, and otherwise I'm pleasantly surprised.

Not that I like surprises.

And that brings me why I'm 'explaining' my life. The pleasant surprise of Flash.

Now, I'm not saying that I dislike him or anything, but I would unplug his life support to charge my phone.

Yup, I've discovered the wonderful world of online insults, not that I wasn't 'sassy' enough on my own.

So last night I ignored my mountain of homework and decided to try out the scarred tradition of time wasting. I know I spent a whole day at school, but optional timewasting seemed like a good idea too. Uhh, stay in school kids.

So when Flash started going on about Peter messing up his chances in some quiz, I told him not to worry, because 'brains aren't everything, and in your case, they're nothing'

That succeeded in cementing my reputation as 'Moody don't fuck with me' girl, and ended up starting a whole round of insults which the school watched like a tennis match. I ended with 'Woah, calm down, I'm not insulting you, I'm describing you.'. Round of applause please and thank you.

I've got to say, Peter's self control is admirable. He sat through the whole thing looking only vaguely pissed off. What a guy.

In the interest of not getting chewed out by Tony, I decided to lay low in the library for the rest of the break. I avoid a curly haired girl and find my own spot. I'm the kind of person who finds library's a sanctuary. If you ever want to find your resident Arvee, go to the nearest library. If you want to attract one, remove all the books and turn off the lights. Alternatively, get abs like Peter Parker, because my kind also happens to be really freaking shallow.

If I was blonde I'd probably have the whole package. Good thing people stereotype me as a serial killer and not a bimbo. Wait, I resemble a serial killer now? The comparison works apparently - I have the intense eyebrows after all.

My love for sharp objects doesn't help. I can use daggers, which sounds super old fashioned, but they've got me out of a tight spot before. Plus, Loki uses them. Talk about idolizing the wrong people... I can also shoot guns, don't worry. I'm not 100% from the middle-ages. I have good aim, and when you can make anything super heavy, everything's a weapon. So when bullets don't cut it, I have furniture, rocks, buttons, feminine hygiene products (Long story...) and whatever else is in the area.

I had to leave the library for my next class, and I decided I might as well sit with Peter and Ned. What could go wrong, am I right? If I had an especially delicate ego, a lot more. As it was, both Peter and Ned could do the maths with one eye closed.

"-A nice ass though..." Ned was joking with Peter as I came up to them.

"Who has a nice ass?" I interrupted.

"Nobody!" Ned said quickly.

"Really? Loki looks pretty good in his costume." I point out, dumping my stuff on the desk. "I'm sitting here by the way." I add.

"Uh, sure." Ned says. Peter looks suspicious. I had been siting near him for the first two lessons of a day. I should probably ask him how much he intends to separate his superhero life and his civilian one. It's also probably a good idea to assure him that 'Spiderman' isn't just going to slip out of my mouth. I make an exception for our first meeting. I was just surprised, and we already know how I feel about those.

So I figured out pretty fast that I could no way keep up with the work they were doing. Peter tries to explain it to me a couple times, before I tell him not to bother, because I'm only going to regret not knowing the work we're doing if someone's holding me at knife point and demanding the answers.

I'm sure you've heard it before, but if the world depending on me answering a maths question, ya'll better build a space ship and get the hell off this planet.

I had a point to this chapter, I'm sure. Oh, right, the action, because nobody wants to read more pages about me stuffing up in school. You already know what's going to happen for the rest of the day... Bonding! Yay, I spoke to Ned, and Peter, and even some teachers!

So how was my after school life? Well, it almost ended. After detention, that is.

Whoops, looks like I'll have to embarrass myself with that story later on, what a pity. Bored yet? If so, end your reading here, because things are about to get messy.

[04] DON'T READ THIS ⬎

Actually, please don't. I'm trying to get the whole 'Devil may care' persona going, but strangely enough, I do care about my life - a little.

I don't know, there are situations like peeing yourself in public, or getting-yourself-almost-killed-and-then-having-Spiderman-cut-off-your-hair-so-you-can-escape, which you have no desire to share with everyone.

What, you may ask, are the circumstances for such a thing? Unfortunately I think I've procrastinated quite enough on telling this. See, this is why the last chapter was a filler.

After school I got on my extremely high tech suit, consisting of black leggings and a thermal top with a ski mask and went to meet up with Peter.

"Wow, that's worse than my first costume." He says.

"Nothing's wrong with this!" I gesture down at myself, and consider striking a pose, except Peter is already looking out over the city.

"Think you can keep up?" He asks. I can see the fabric of his mask move in a grin. I've got to admit, looking good in a spider onesie is pretty skilled. I just look like a robber who's especially bad at blending in. And I'm sweating - it's midsummer after all.

Forget inbuilt computers, all I need is a suit with air conditioning.

"'Course I can," I say. I'm nothing if not competitive - when I think I can win that is. I arch my back slightly as my density changes, and then follow after Peter as he swings from building to building. I've got to say, going through said buildings is far easier, although the people inside give me strange looks for whatever reason.

"So," he asks, barely out of breath, "got a name?"

"Well..." I say, managing not to flinch as I go through another building unnoticed.

"Ghost-Girl." He says, snapping his fingers and swinging to another building.

"I was thinking V, actually." I say.

"Nah, I like Ghost-Girl." Peter insists.

"That's worse than Spiderman!" I protest, angling myself so I follow him.

"What's wrong with Spiderman?" He asks.

"It's cheesy."

"It's accurate."

"Yeah, and Ghost-Girl isn't,"

"That wasn't my-" Peter stopped suddenly, and I float through him. He shivers and then proceeds to point down at people in the street.

"I thought people committed crime at night?" I say, and swoop down.

"They're confident," Peter says, voice troubled.

"What are they doing?" I ask, hovering a small distance above the street and trying to figure out what to do.

At this point I should probably explain that I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but one of Peter's suits mechanical eyes re-adjusted.

"Facial recognition's picked someone up." He explain. "Karen, search the others."

"Karen?" I ask, looking around.

"My suit." Peter says.

"Jeez, I thought Tony was crazy." I mutter, thinking back to my argument with JARVIS and his other A.I. I hadn't thought a suit would be so easily offended.

"Anyway, what're we going to do?" Peter asks.

"Don't look at me, you've got the nets."

"Webs," he corrects.

"Wow, you've really got the whole theme going - see, if I went with 'Ghost-girl' then I'd be wearing a bedsheet."

"Can you be serious, for a minute? You annoy the people you're fighting, not your team mate."

"Eish, okay." Lucky for us, the people we'd picked up were especially slow. One of them was holding a bag of shopping - I guess even a 'bad guy' has to eat - and the other was on his phone. "So we net them... What about the civilians?"

Personally I'd love to be at the scene of a superhero fight, but I'm trying to stick to societal constructs here.

"We'll wait until they're in a less-crowded area. Maybe we'll be able to find out where they go."

"Subway tunnels." I say.

"What?"

I go to tell him about the huge network there - all the people with a bone to pick with authority and no other place to go, but then I remember, well, all the people with a bone to pick with authority, so I shrug.

"I dunno. Yeah, we should follow them," and because I am oh-so-subtle, I glide on ahead. I mean, I might as well have stuck a sticky-note to my back which said 'Important but forbidden conversation topic' instead of 'kick me'.

The people below us turn, and Peter drops down. I follow, increasing my density and avoiding going through anything - just in case. I don't know if you've experienced it, but being melded into a wall is not a pleasant feeling.

Of course, we've gone into a back alley, which is suspiciously dark and dingy. Questionable graffiti coats the walls - some street art-esque while others are slightly weirder.

"We should probably get them before they get to others." I point out.

"And before they end up in a sewer or something."

I look at him sharply, "no one has a base in a sewer."

"You'd be surprised; do you know how long it takes to get the smell out of a costume?"

"Too late." I say as we round a corner. There are now a group of people, crowding around the bag. I've seen some of them before - in the subway tunnels or teaching me how to pick pockets. I suddenly feel indebted to my ski mask.

Peter has already descended, and I do the same, taking out some of the gadgets Tony gave me. Fancy suit I have not, gadgets I have plenty of. I use an extendable net - a disc shape which expands within seconds of being pressed - and throw it, encapsulating one person.

One, smart person, is making an escape, but I turn a blind eye - it's one thing the be involved knowingly, and another just to be involved.

"Wait - woah - did you just - get her!" Peter says, ducking a well-aimed punch from someone else. He webs him up easily. I make no move to go after the escapee, instead getting the last person in a firm hold.

"Done." I say, turning my density enough to cease my captives struggling.

"Well that was pretty good." Peter says. "So, I picked your face up from that robbery last week. What happened, payday next week?"

"You should really wear a mask next time." I hiss. If there's one thing I'm good at doing, it's going from a cute, but incredibly sharp toothed, puppy into a just as cute, but much more deadly, wolf.

What, I can't be cute and deadly at the same time?

"Yeah, the ski mask is a real fashion statement." the captive spits on the ground disgustedly.

"That's the real issue here, huh." Peter says. "In that case, you'll probably look good in a prison jumpsuit." Peter nudged the bag he'd been carrying with one foot, before bending down and opening it cautiously. Inside was a car battery, and other electrical equipment which clearly made sense to Peter.

"That's almost smart..." He said, looking around at the group. He blanched when his eyes fell on me.

Admittedly, my first thought was 'did my shirt float away?' because that's a legitimate fear, but then I heard the strike of a match behind me, and something burning. Instinctually, I lower my density, but all that does is make me shoot upwards, and my fear brings me back down real fast.

"Hold still." Peter says. He's behind me, knife in hand.

Can I just say, that that scene in Mulan, where she cuts off her hair in one sweep of her fathers sword is complete bullshit. That or Peter's knife was really blunt. He managed a combination of hacking off my hair, and putting out the flames.

Gods, it was both terrifying and embarrassing. I'd probably left inch deep foot prints in the street, and was blushing as deeply as Red-Skull, by the time there was no more fire. There were also no more bad guys.

"You okay?" Peter asks.

"Most of me is." I say. I should probably point out that I'm grateful to Peter for saving my life. I mean, it was my hair on my head, or my actual head, and I think we all know which I'd prefer. In fact, the only person I know of who'd rather die than get a hair cut is probably Thor.

"Why did you let the other one escape?" He asks, no doubt more than a little pissed.

"Because I thought she might've just been one of the innocents," I say. I see his scepticism. "Look, when you live on the streets there isn't much of a support network, and there's this organization which gives support, in exchange for, like, petty theft and stuff."

"How do you know that?"

Last chance to use the 'Tony Stark is my father' card... "Because I was one of them."

[05] WHY COULDN'T IT BE MINI GOLF? ⬎

Seriously. Why does everything have to be all stab stab and socially interact? Couldn't whoever's running the 'support network' be gathering supplies for recreational mini golf... If that's a thing.

I know mini golf is like hell on earth, but I'd rather hit stuff than be hit, and I seem to be doing a lot of the latter right now.

I know what you're thinking - why on earth does she hate mini golf? And the truth is rather long and involved. See, the one time I went was with Tony, and it turns out he has super good aim, even without his suit on. So when we got to the course...

This is all totally irrelevant by the way, I should really start these things with some direction.

If you're wondering, Peter didn't react terribly to my revelation. There was a little pity, a little more understanding and a whole lot more opportunity's in his eyes.

AUTHORS NOTE⬎

i.e where you ask where the rest is...

I'm sorryyyy, yup, it's unfinished... I had so much fun writing this ngl... but I had an idea for another OC and you've gotta admit, Arvee isn't that interesting (Maybe... I mean, she was sassy and I freaking love it) but yeah, I had, like, two major plot points sooooo....
I honestly loved writing this tho. I haven't been this inspired in ages (and for a whole week too). It's so fun to write something light and happy and sarcastic and I honestly want to try this style again, but less rambley. I feel like the action was a little hard to follow.
I stopped because really the only plot point I had was this scene where Arvee discovers her mother is the leader of the 'I hate super-heroes' group and Tony's all like 'go to her' because he knows how important family is.
Or he's drunk, idk.
So yeah, thanks for reading!! :3