chapter xxi.
( iron man 2 )

i   got   those jet pack   blues,
just like   judy the kind   that
makes   june feel   like   september
i'm the last one you'll ever remember
jet pack blues ─── fall out boy

malibu, california
may 21, 2011

"Are you sure you want to do this, Miss?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I paid you the money, now do what you promised. Just open the thing, please," I'm trying to be polite, but I don't think I'm doing well.   

The man sighs and yanks open the metal door before pulling the slab out. I straighten my shoulders and harden my face when the sheet-covered body is stretched out below me. The man purses his lips and moves to pull back the sheet, but I hold out a hand to stop him. Not looking at the surprised man, I simply shake my head. The man nods and then leaves me alone in the cold room. I breathe deeply for a long moment, unmoving. My hands begin to burn in their fireproof gloves and I grit my teeth, furiously. My brain isn't even processing what I'm doing when I yank the sheet back so that I can look at his face. His lids are closed tightly, there is a long, rugged slice down his face, and there is a small hole in his forehead.

Edgar.

"They're going to bury you soon," I speak lowly as if he can still hear me, "I don't know who in the world would come, but who knows? Maybe you have some other psycho friends out there," after swallowing, I continue, "Anyway, I wasn't really sure why I came here until I walked into the room. I think I wanted to just see your face and tell you what I wish I had said when you were alive. So, here goes. You cut me and tried to convince me to kill myself and then you experimented on me like some kind of lab rat. You were a monster, and, deep down in your twisted brain, I think you knew that you were. But what's worse than you being a monster is that you turned me into one too," my hands are trembling worse now, "I wish I had been the one that killed you," the burning is becoming unbearable, "because now neither of us won our war. You killed me. You were killed. And I was brought back," I grit my teeth from the pain, "Your handywork wiped clean and mine gone unfinished."

My work may have gone unfinished, but that doesn't mean I can't do something now. Oh, I want to hurt him. I want to hurt him more than I want anything. My aching fingers slowly begins to pull the glove off of my hand. A burning light radiates off of my palm as I slowly raise it. I inch it towards his face, just wanting him to know what I can do, just wanting to see the damage that I could do on the man who made me this way.

"Miss,"

I tear my hand away from his body and tuck it underneath the table.

Guilt bubbles up in my chest.

What am I doing? This isn't right. I shouldn't have done that.

I fumble with pulling the glove back on as I look up, "What do you want?"

The man stands in the doorway, "Time's up. I gotta get you out of here before anyone notices."

I clear my throat and nod, "Yeah, gotcha. Thanks."

I straighten my shirt and force my hands to stop their rapid shaking. My shoulder brushes the man's as I pass by. My booted feet carry me out of the morgue back home in Malibu and towards the parking lot where my taxi waits. I mumble that I want him to take me home now as I sink back into the pleather seat. I rest my hands in my lap, palms up so that I don't put any pressure on them. They're still shaking uncontrollably and they burn so badly. I push my mouth into my shoulder and allow a small cry to be muffled there.

When the taxi pulls in front of my house, I don't move for a long moment. I think about how most of the teens my age are driving by now, still with their permits, but that doesn't make much difference to the person who can't. Dad figured it was best if I didn't even try. I agreed because it hurts without touching anything so I knew it would be painful and dangerous for my hands to be pressed up against something that determined whether or not I drove over a cliff or into a tree.

"Miss?" the driver calls back, trying to catch my attention and get me to leave.

I drop a couple of bills into the passenger seat before awkwardly opening the car door to get out. I'm hoping to just slip into the house without having to talk to anybody. Instead, I find Dad, Rhodey, and Pepper all sitting in the living room. Glorious. I duck my head and try to slide by them to the staircase.

"Heya Lees," Rhodey calls out through a mouthful of pizza, causing me to stop on the second step.

"Sup?" I turn to look at them, making my face expressionless.

"Where have you been?" Pepper asks before sneezing and glancing up at me.

They all look at me, expectantly.

"I'm sure Dad has a tracking device in my phone. He can tell you if you're really curious," my eyes dart to his rolling ones.

"God, relax. I was not tracking you,"

"Lie."

"What?" he wipes the pizza sauce off of his mouth.

"That was a lie."

"I wasn't lying."

I nod pointedly, "Another lie."

He throws up his hands exasperated, "Fine! I have a tracking device on you! Are you happy? But I haven't been watching your every move, it's just in case you get yourself kidnapped again,"

I feel my face turn red in anger.

Get myself kidnapped again?!

"Tony," Pepper scolds quietly.

"Oh, don't worry, Pepper, this is one of the better things he could do to me," I walk down the stairs as they watch quizzically, "If he really got what he wanted, I'd never be allowed to leave the house again, would I?"

"Lisa," Dad frowns.

I hold up a black gloved hand and say in a mockingly sing-song voice, "Safety, safety, safety! Safety first!" my voice drops back to its usual level, "Lord, it's like a kindergarten class up in here. Especially when it comes to the 'play nice with others' rule," I turn to Rhodey and Pepper with a sarcastic smile, "Tony Stark over here is scared that his little girl is going to accidentally murder the other little kids when she wants a cookie or when she gets a little too emotional."

Rhodey and Pepper watch me with wide eyes.

"Lisa!" Dad snaps and stands to face me, "Don't you dare pretend like I'm overacting here,"

I turn to him and move on from what I just said, answering Pepper's question, "If you really must know, I went to the morgue today."

"Ew, the morgue?" Pepper asks, confused.

"Lees, why would you want to go to the morgue?" Rhodey frowns up at me.

"I wanted to see him," I don't take my eyes off of my father whose face softens a bit, "Edgar Frost. The man who tortured and eventually murdered me."

That shuts them up so I smile smugly.

I adjust my shirt on my frame and nod, "Welp, if that's all, good Sirs and Madame, I will go up to my tower."

Dad groans as I turn and jog up the stairs. The hours pass as I sit with my legs criss-crossed on my bed. I finally work up enough courage to take off my gloves. I'm not all glowy at the moment, I can tell because my veins aren't shining through my flesh. Whenever I tend to get frustrated, the thrusters always seem to power up and that's really when my flesh begins to burn. Swallowing hard, I look down my hands. The white disks show their intricate pattern, almost mirroring my father's thrusters as it was, after all, his design.

The cuts have healed decently well and the stitches have all been taken out. The skin surrounding the disks is all curled up and red and scabbed from the repetitive burns. I almost gag at the disgusting sight. The wounds on my hands always ache, but it's different when I get upset. Each time the thrusters power up, they just give me another taste of the original burning I felt that night in Sector 16. I wince as my fingers gently touch the stinging and tender flesh.

Dad doesn't know that they power up as much as they do. He doesn't know what the thrusters are doing to my hands. All he knows about is the accident. He thinks it was a one time mishap and that's why he keeps putting up walls, locking me in. That's why he keeps shielding people from me. He's scared I'll hurt them again.

It was a month after what happened with Obadiah. We had been trying to settle back into our usual routine. The paparazzi were still hounding us, but Dad said that they usually were anyway so we should be pretty used to it. I noticed a new ferocity about the reporters, but he didn't think anything of it so I tried to push the observation away. I had been trying to stay positive about the thrusters in my hands, after all, Dad promised it would all be okay. I needed to have faith. But they were so painful and I was terrified that I would never be able to do anything I wanted to do again. I had come to the realization of how much people really do use their hands. There aren't many activities that don't require hands.

Dad had already been on about twenty missions that 'saved the world' and I threw up each time he left the house. I couldn't think about what he was going to face out there, knowing that every mission he took he had a huge probability of never coming back home to me. We never discussed it though. What could I say even in the few minutes we actually got the chance to talk? He was doing what he believed was right; it was what he needed to do.

He had been gone on another mission for about two days when I decided that I needed to get out of the house. I had been attempting to paint in the garage, but I couldn't hold the paintbrushes right. It kept slipping because of the odd metal contraption in my hand. Then, as I grew more and more frustrated, I began to burn holes through my canvases. I finally couldn't handle the silent judgement of the room anymore. I needed to get some fresh air and just forget all of my problems. I snuck through the side exit of the house, trying to avoid all of the paparazzi waiting outside our front gate. I wore sunglasses and a black hoodie, hiding my hands in the big pocket on its front.

When the first person recognized me, I was walking down the one of the touristy parts of Malibu, which was my first mistake. I was passing by a honeymooning couple when the man gasped and stepped out in front of me while staring at me with a gaping mouth. I quickly stepped back, looking at him in surprise.

"Oh my gosh, you're Lisa Stark, aren't you?!"

"No," I shuffled to get around him.

He took my arm and I froze, tensing at someone touching me, "No, but you are! You've been on TV tons lately!"

"Are you serious? Do I really look like Lisa Stark to you?" I snapped, dropping my voice in hopes of disguising myself, "Why is that tourists think that every person they meet in California is a celebrity?!"

"What's going on?" another person came up, eyeing us strangely.

"It's Lisa Stark, the daughter of Tony Stark! Look!" the woman jabbed a dainty little finger in my face.

"Oh my, Lisa Stark? Really? Is it you?!"

"Nope, nope, no, I'm not!" I said it a little too quickly to be believable.

I felt heat rising to my cheeks as more people began to come towards us, recognizing my name. I saw reporters turning and then jogging over to us at the sight of a big crowd forming. Suddenly I was at the epicenter of a circle of onlookers and noisy fans.

"Lisa! Lisa, look over here!" a camera flashed in my face.

A tourist hurriedly shrieked, "Miss. Stark, can I take a picture with you?"

"Where's your dad? Is he here?" everyone looked around as a boy continued to ask, "Can I have a picture with you two?"

I looked around quickly, trying to find a way out of this mess. Bright lights flashed, hurting my eyes even though I was wearing sunglasses. A random hand had the bravery to yank my hood down so that I was even more exposed. My hands began to burn and I flinched at the sudden sensation. I felt the wires within my wrists begin to vibrate.

"Oh my word!"

"You're my favorite celebrity!"

"There are rumors about what happened to you the night of Obadiah Stane's attack, what really happened?!"

"Were you really pregnant? Or was it just a hoax?!"

My feet felt glued to the concrete sidewalk below me as the pain grew more and more intense. It felt as if my hands were on fire and they probably were.

"Lisa Stark! Lisa, tell us how you are doing!" a reporter yelled.

"Lisa! Hey Miss. Stark!"

I winced at the sound of my name ringing out.

"Lisa, how do you feel about your father being Iron Man?"

I swallowed hard and my hands were trembling with the power and the pain. The pocket of the hoodie began to glow and panic overtook me. I knew one thing: I had to get away. I moved from my spot amidst everyone and moved towards the crowd. I pushed against them with my shoulders, struggling to get through.

"Get out of the way!" I demanded as the people refused to budge, "Let me through!"

"Wait, Lisa!"

"Move!" my voice got angrier.

"Come on, Lisa, just answer just a couple questions!"

I couldn't escape.

"Take a picture with me, please?!"

"Stop, just stop," my angry voice begged, "I said 'move'!"

They wouldn't listen.

That's when my second mistake took place.

"Stop, just," my voice rose to a scream among the loud demands and questions, "leave me alone!"

Suddenly my hands were lighting up completely and they burned like never before as a long, white-yellow blast shot from them. Everyone shrieked and gasped, stumbling and clamoring to get away. I flew backwards, slamming my body against the hard pavement. A loud thud was heard beside me and I felt a metal hand take my arm. My eyes flitted up to see my father's mask looking down at me. I curled up into a sitting position, but stopped at the sight in front of me. A man was on the ground across from me, wincing and holding his sizzling, smoking shoulder. My lips trembled as my eyes fell from the injured man to my illuminating hands. Dad moved to the man, helping him up to his feet.

"Sir, are you alright?"

My eyes didn't leave my burning hands.

"I-I-I was shot at!" the man exclaimed.

Dad scanned the man's wound, "It honestly doesn't look too bad. It looks like a slight burn. It should heal nicely," he then referred to our AI, "Jarvis, call an ambulance, just to be safe."

"Sh-she hurt me!" the man said, desperately and panickedly.

My mouth opened in shock and horror.

"Man, you're going to be fine," Dad's tone grew flatter, "You need to relax."

"No, she did this to me," the man looked around quickly and the cameras continued to flash, "She did this to me! She's dangerous! Nobody go near her! She did this!"

"Fine," Dad moved backwards before he reached me and pulled me up to his side, "Sue us."

Our feet left the ground as he shot us away from the scene. I squeezed my eyes closed, forgetting about my pain and remembering the one I caused that man. Iron Man wasn't a weapon. I was.

As quiet as Pepper and Dad tried to keep it, I still figured out that the man did actually try to sue us. He knew we have money and he knew he could probably get something out of us. Jarvis helped me look into the man's hospital records about a week after it happened. He basically had a burn that a person would get from picking up a warm plate from a microwave. I wasn't charged for anything, I mean, it was just an accident. Dad was able to settle it outside of court and paid him a few thousand bucks for any 'pain and suffering' I inflicted. But, even if it was kept out of court, that doesn't mean it was kept out of the public eye. It was mortifying. Dad made me up some gloves that could contain the thrusters' heat and blasts, which was apparently meant to also ease the public's worries about me. Again, mortifying.

I may not have killed that man.

But I could have.

I could kill anyone. I've never had that kind of weight on my shoulders before. That kind of fear. And I always thought that if Edgar was dead, then I would be free of fear. He just granted me a new kind before he died.

Dad doesn't understand the pain that the thrusters cause me. They hurt all the time. I haven't told him. We hardly have a minute to ourselves anyway. It's so dumb for me to think that I miss the days when he would treat me like some glass doll, but now he treats like a dirty bomb that could go off at any second. I hate that he doesn't trust me! It just makes me so angry. As if on cue, my hands begin to burn more and the thrusters begin to glow. I struggle to pull on my gloves before I accidentally explode my bed. I scowl at myself in the mirror and begin the routine of calming myself down.

Maybe Dad was right. Maybe I was a danger to people. But I can control it more now. I've been practicing, managing it when I get upset. It's just like my panic attacks. I do the basics of closing my eyes, rolling my shoulders back, breathing deeply, and just counting. It goes pretty well each time. I usually apply it, but sometimes I'm so angry that I just let it burn. It's nice to get my anger out some way.

There's a quiet knock on my door before voice calls out, "Sweetie? Hey Sweetie, it's Pepper. I know you've been under a lot of stress lately. I just am totally available for you to talk to."

I stand and struggle with the door handle until I can finally open it. She stands there with a sympathetic smile on her face and I can't stop myself from smiling back.

"Hey," I tell her.

"Hey Sweetie," she pauses when she sneezes, "Oh sorry. Are you okay?"

"God bless you," I then let out a sigh and nod, "Yeah, I don't know. I've just been acting so crazy lately."

"No, you haven't," Pepper rests a hand on my forearm and says with a warm smile, "Life's been so hard for you and your father for a long time now. I'm honestly surprised one of you hasn't murdered the other yet."

I give a light laugh before leaning against my doorway, "It's true. Though I thought I was really going to on that plane ride back from D.C."

Pepper wipes her nose as she laughs, "Ha, me too."

"He does it on purpose too! He knows he's acting like a peacock, but he does it anyway because, for one, he can, two, he likes to, and, three, it irritates us!" I say exasperatedly.

Pepper laughs again, "Well, that's true."

I grow somber as I say, "You know it's been about four months over a year since," I frown, "well, you know, the whole Afghanistan thing. I just keep thinking about where we were an exact year ago. I was still in the cave, being held hostage by the Ten Rings, and trying to help Dad finish the suit before they killed us."

Pepper's brows furrow, "God, I'm so sorry, Lisa."

I shrug.

"You know, we could still call your therapist? You could start going again..." She prompts.

Oh Lordie, the therapist?

About three days after Obadiah's crazy train left the station, Pepper brought the idea up. Dad completely supported her and so did Rhodey. I, for some reason, didn't agree. I don't know; maybe it's just too intimidating. Maybe I'm just not ready to 'sort through it'. Maybe I just don't want someone in my head. Who knows? I'm self-aware enough to acknowledge that I'm just a dumb teenage girl who really has no clue what she's doing most of the time.

"Yeah," I shrug again, not committing to anything one way or the other.

"And although it doesn't look that way, I'm sure your dad is trying to help you,"

I'm about to state how that's debatable when we're interrupted by her chirping phone, so she says, "Oh man, hold on."

I nod and wait for her to read whatever message is on her phone. Suddenly she gasps and her face contorts into a look of horror.

"What? What happened?!" I question with raised eyebrows.

"Your father! Your father!" she whirls around and begins marching down the hallway.

"Oh," I acknowledge that he tends to do things that elicit that response, "what'd he do?!"

"The art! The collections! He sold one of them!"

"Whoa, wait, what?!" my voice gains a higher pitch.

We sprint all the way down to the workshop where I can see my father sitting at hsis in front of his computer. He has his shirt lifted up, oddly enough and something is weird about his chest. As he glances up at us hurrying down the last few steps, he drops his shirt. Pepper punches in the passcode and the door whooshes open. We step inside just as he takes a long sip of some gross looking concoction.

He points at Pepper and says, "Uh-uh."

"Is this a joke?!" I snap, moving towards him with my hands on my hips.

"What are you thinking?" Pepper follows behind me.

He replies simply with a boring old, "What?"

"What are you thinking?" Pepper repeats, throwing her hands out.

"Hey! I'm thinking I'm busy," he pushes away from his desk.

"I'mma gonna kill you and the murder scene ain't gonna be pretty!" I snap harshly.

He walks around the room, "And you're clearly angry about something," he flippantly motions to Pepper, "Do you have the sniffles? I don't wanna get sick."

"Dad, stop kidding around," I step after him closely.

"Did you just donate," Pepper starts as she follows after us.

"Okay, Sniffles, keep your business," he uses his hands to create an invisible barrier around himself, "Personal bubble to avoid airborne infection."

Pepper ignores him and keeps going, "Our entire modern art collection to the, the,"

"Boy Scouts of America," he fills in as he takes part of a hologram and crumples it into a ball.

"The Boy Scouts of America?" my voice gets higher again.

"Yes. It is a worthwhile organization. I didn't physically check the crates, but, basically, yes," he's still moving around the holographic images suspended in the air before motioning back to Pepper, "And it's not 'our' collection, it's my collection. No offense."

"Well, Dad, it actually is our collection. It technically became my collection when you changed my last name to 'Stark' and then you put it in the will that it was mine after you keel over!" I rant, glaring at the back of his head.

"Aha, so it was yours in the future, not in the present. Therefore, until I, as you say, 'keel over', it still was legally mine," he informs as we keep walking through the workshop.

I grumble, crossing my arms grumpily over my chest.

Pepper defends herself, "Hey, but you know what? I think I'm actually entitled to say 'our' collection while including me, considering the time that I put in, over ten years, curating that!"

"It was a tax write-off. I needed that."

Pepper wraps her arms around her files, "You know, there's only about 8,011 things that I really need to talk to you about."

"Dummy," Dad pats the robot, "Hey, stop spacing out. The Bridgeport's already machining that part."

Pepper stares at him, "The Expo is a gigantic waste of time."

"Whoa," I look over at her slowly.

I don't necessarily agree with that.

Dad takes her shoulders, "Hey Sniffles, I need you to wear a surgical mask until you're feeling better. Is that okay?"

She coughs, "That's rude."

"There's nothing more important to me than the Expo," Dad says as he walks along, "It's my primary point of concern."

Ouch. That hurt a little. Or, you know, a lot.

"Oh well, nice, Dad, thanks for that," my face twists into a deep frown.

"I don't know why you're all," he makes a face at me and then wiggles his fingers in my direction, "ibijibajibajiba."

"What?" I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head, irritatedly, "Well, I don't know why you're all,"

Pepper interrupts before we can continue bickering, "The Expo is your ego gone crazy."

"Now that, I can agree with," I point at her as we come to a stop.

Dad picks up a frame that's housing a large Iron Man poster, "Wow. Look at that. That's modern art. That's going up."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"

"Putting up pictures of yourself?! You're not seriously going to be one of those people, are you? Come on, Dad!"

"I'm gonna put this up right now. This is vital," Dad starts walking over to the kitchen area of the workshop.

"Stark Industries is in complete disarray. You understand that?!"

I sigh as they continue arguing about the company.

Suddenly Dad picks up his pace with the large frame still in his hands.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Pepper hurries after him as he hops up on the counter and takes the original painting off the wall, "You are not taking down the Barnett Newman and hanging that up!"

"I'm not taking it down. I'm just replacing it with this," Dad starts to adjust the framed poster on the nail.

"That's the same thing," I sigh and then stare at the poster, "Well, actually, that's kind of an improvement."

"Lees!" Pepper gasps, hitting my arm with the back of her hand.

"He-hey!" Dad points to me with a grin and then gives a double thumbs up, "Yes! Point one for Iron Man, zero for Assistant Lady."

Pepper frowns at him before looking back at me, accusingly.

"I'm sorry!" I try to defend myself, "But you know how I feel about some modern art pieces! The Barnett Newman is just a black rectangle on a white canvas! Anyone can do that, but some random guy from the early to mid 1900s gets fame for it. Now if it were a realism piece, then sure, I'd punch him in the gut!"

Dad shrugs as Pepper sighs and says, "Okay, fine. My point is, we have already awarded contracts to the wind farm people."

"Yeah. Don't say 'wind farm'. I'm already feeling gassy."

I roll my eyes, but can't help my dumb smirk, "Ew, Dad, real mature."

"And to the plastic plantation tree, which was your idea, by the way. Those people are on payroll,"

Dad turns to her, still on the counter, and sprawls out his hands, "Everything was my idea,"

How humble.

"And you won't make a decision."

I groan and rub my temples.

"I don't care about the liberal agenda anymore. It's boring. Boring," Dad jumps down to face her straight on, "I'm giving you a boring alert. You do it."

I look over at him, sharply.

"I do what?"

"Excellent idea. I just figured this out. You run the company!"

My brows raise as I look from him to Pepper.

"Yeah, I'm trying to run the company."

"Pepper, I need you to run the company. Well, stop trying to do it and do it,"

"You will not give me the information,"

"I'm asking you to physically do it. I need you to do it,"

"I am trying to do it!"

"Ugh!" I suddenly shriek, causing them both to look at me, "Pepper, he's trying to hand over the reins here."

Her eyes widen as she looks at Dad.

He nods with a smirk, "I'm trying to make you CEO, Pep, that is until Lisa is ready to step in," he shoots a short glance at me.

She learns forward to sniff his breath, "Have you been drinking?

He pulls away and makes a face, taken aback, "Uh, chlorophyll," he takes her shoulders, "I hereby irrevocably appoint you interim chairman and CEO of Stark Industries, effective immediately," he briefly looks around at me, "What'd ya say, Lees?"

I nod and smile at Pepper, "Yeah, done deal."

Pepper has her mouth open as she watches us with wide eyes.

Dad walks over to Dummy as he holds a plate of champagne, "I've actually given this a fair amount of thought, believe it or not. Doing a bit of head hunting, so to speak, trying to figure out who would be a good candidate to step in between me and Lees. And then I realized it's you. It's always been you. I thought there'd be a legal issue, but actually I'm capable of appointing my interim successor. My interim successor being you."

I smile as Pepper shakes her head in disbelief, still not able to speak.

"Congratulations," Dad smiles as he holds a sparkling glass of champagne out to her, "Take it, just take it, it's for you," he points at me, "Not for you though."

I roll my eyes at his antics.

Pepper takes the glass and smiles, but it's clear she's still shocked, "I don't know what to think."

He sits and I can actually see him slide just a little bit closer to her, "Don't think. Drink. There you go."

I feel my cheeks blush at their closeness and I bite my lip in excitement. I want them to be together so much that it physically hurts. I sigh to myself as they clink glasses and each takes a sip.

They're meant to be together. It's destiny.

I lean my elbows against the couch's headrest and rest my chin lovingly on Pepper's shoulder, "Welcome to the family, Pepper."

Dad chokes on his drink and Pepper comes up sputtering.

"Oh, oh," I pull back, blushing for a different reason now, "Not what I meant, like at all," I give an awkward laugh.

Dad flattens his lips into a thin line, blinking at me.

"Uh, like, I meant, like, when, um," I scratch my eyebrow as my face still burns and I suddenly throw my hands up and say excitedly, "Welcome to the Stark Industries family!"

Dad clenches his jaw and drops his face in his hand as I stumble back into the wall.

"Oh, ow, uh, gosh," I rub my sore shoulder, "I'm just gonna go, you know, uh," I mumble in embarrassment as I turn to go, "drown myself,"

I'm just leaving the room when I hear Dad and Pepper burst out laughing. I let out a sigh of relief that I didn't just screw up whatever was going on in there. As I walk up the stairs, I can't help but smile. As my pace turns to a jog, I notice something strange. Neither my wounds or thrusters are hurting at all.

Well, that's not my favorite chapter ever, but was it still okay? Sorry if it was a little boring, but it is so important for you all to know what she did. Then there was the whole confession of why Lisa is being treated like Rapunzel up in here, but instead of her "magic glowing hair", she has science-y glowing hands. Not too far off though. And then there was some Pepperony fluff at the end! Sidenote: I love this gifs with Pepper and Tony, they're so cute! *sighs* Okay, well, over and out!

Spoiler-ish for my story:

A special new person is coming up next chapter..... And I just can't wait - the next coming chapters are some of my favs! You can guess who it is, can't you?