Chapter 4
February 12th, 2013
Sara stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, turning to examine her profile. The button-up shirt hung loosely off her shoulders, the dark blue fabric crisp against her skin. Paired with the slim-cut chinos and new combat boots she'd convinced Tony to buy her ("They're practical for training, I swear"), the overall effect was exactly what she'd been going for.
"Miss Raavi, Dr. Banner asks if you'll be joining the team for breakfast," JARVIS's voice interrupted her self-assessment. "Captain Rogers has prepared what he describes as 'enough pancakes to feed a small army.'"
"Tell him I'll be down in five," Sara replied, running a hand through her hair. She'd gotten it cut again last week, even shorter this time, with the sides trimmed close and the top left just long enough to push back from her forehead. The stylist had called it an "undercut pixie" and assured her it was very on-trend, but Sara knew what she was really going for—something practical, yes, but also something that felt more authentically her.
After a final adjustment to her collar, Sara grabbed her tablet and headed to the communal kitchen, where the smell of pancakes and bacon greeted her. Steve stood at the stove in an absurdly small apron (probably Tony's idea of a joke), flipping perfect golden pancakes with military precision. Bruce sat at the counter, nursing a cup of tea while reading something on a tablet. Natasha leaned against the refrigerator, already dressed for the day in her standard training gear.
"Morning, firecracker," Tony called from his seat at the table, where he was reviewing holographic schematics while simultaneously drenching a stack of pancakes in syrup. "Nice shirt. Is that new?"
Sara nodded, sliding onto a stool. "Ordered it online. It's from that sustainable brand Pepper recommended."
"Good choice," Natasha commented, her eyes quickly assessing Sara's outfit with professional thoroughness. "The color suits you."
Sara fought back a blush, still not entirely immune to Natasha's approval despite their heart-to-heart about her crush a few months ago. Things had gotten much less awkward since then, evolving into a genuine friendship that Sara treasured—especially since Natasha was the only person she'd explicitly come out to about her attraction to girls.
"Pancakes?" Steve offered, sliding a plate in front of her. "I made blueberry ones for you."
"Thanks, Cap," Sara grinned, accepting the plate gratefully. Steve's old-fashioned cooking skills had become legendary in the tower, and his pancakes were particularly sought-after. "Is Mom up yet?"
"Dr. Raavi left early for a meeting at the foundation," Bruce answered, not looking up from his reading. "She said to remind you about your physics examination at eleven."
Sara groaned around a mouthful of pancake. "I forgot about that. I've been so focused on the new training protocols that school completely slipped my mind."
"Again," Tony pointed out, though his tone was more amused than scolding. Over the past few months, they'd reached an uneasy truce about balancing Sara's education with her powers training—largely brokered by Sandhya, who remained firm that Sara's future needed to include more than just superhero preparation.
"I've been studying," Sara defended herself. "Just... not as much as I should have."
"You'll ace it anyway," Tony waved dismissively. "You're a Stark."
"Raavi," Sara corrected automatically, though the familiar surname correction had become more habit than rebuke. "And anyway, the examination covers quantum mechanics. Even you find that challenging."
"Lies and slander," Tony clutched his arc reactor in mock offense. "I find quantum mechanics delightfully straightforward. It's people that confuse me."
"On that, we all agree," Natasha muttered, helping herself to coffee.
Breakfast continued with the easy camaraderie that had developed among the tower's residents. Despite the trauma that had brought them together, a strange sort of family unit had formed in the months since the Battle of New York. Even Bruce, the most reclusive of the group, had begun joining these morning gatherings more frequently, offering quiet observations and dry humor when least expected.
For Sara, these moments were precious—times when she could almost forget the weight of secrets and responsibilities, when she could simply be another member of this odd, makeshift family. Almost.
"So, what's on the training agenda today?" she asked Natasha as they cleared their plates, the familiar pre-training butterflies already stirring in her stomach.
"Situational adaptability," Natasha replied. "In the field, conditions change rapidly. You need to be able to adjust your tactics and power usage without hesitation."
"Sounds fun," Sara tried to keep her tone casual, though her palms were already warming with anticipation. After months of intensive training, she'd reached a level of control that sometimes surprised even her—able to manage precise temperature variations, manipulate the size and direction of her flames, even create complex patterns and structures with her fire.
But control was only the beginning. As Tony frequently reminded her, power without purpose was just a party trick.
"Remember, only until ten-thirty," Bruce interjected, glancing at Sara over his glasses. "Your mother was very clear about prioritizing your education."
"Yes, Dr. Banner," Sara sighed, using his formal title the way she did whenever he slipped into what she privately called his "responsible adult mode."
"She'll be prompt," Natasha assured him, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Our little firecracker wouldn't want to disappoint Sandhya. Or Zara, for that matter."
Sara felt her cheeks heat at the mention of Zara. Their video "date date" back in November had led to more calls, more late-night conversations, more music shared and feelings confessed. Though they still hadn't met in person—Zara lived in California—the relationship had deepened into something that made Sara's heart race whenever her phone chimed with a new message.
"How is the musical prodigy?" Tony asked, his tone deliberately casual in the way that told Sara he was genuinely interested but trying not to be overbearing. "Still composing fire symphonies?"
"She's good," Sara replied, suddenly fascinated by a spot on the countertop. "She's applying for a summer program at Juilliard, actually. If she gets in, she'd be in New York for six weeks."
"Really?" Tony perked up, his eyes gleaming with the manic enthusiasm that usually preceded an outrageous gesture. "I know people at Juilliard. I could—"
"No," Sara cut him off firmly. "No strings, no influence, no Stark magic. She wants to get in on her own merits."
"Fine, fine," Tony held up his hands in surrender. "Just offering paternal assistance. It's what dads do, apparently."
"Normal dads offer to help with homework," Sara pointed out. "They don't call the admissions board of prestigious music programs."
"When have I ever claimed to be normal?" Tony grinned.
As breakfast broke up, Sara followed Natasha to the training room, her mind already shifting gears from teenage girl to fighter, from student to... whatever she was becoming.
"You seem distracted," Natasha observed as they entered the specialized training space. "Thinking about the physics exam, or about seeing Zara this summer?"
"Both, I guess," Sara admitted, dropping her tablet on a bench and beginning her warm-up stretches. "Plus Harsha called yesterday. He's bringing Aurelio home for spring break, and they're talking about moving in together after graduation. It's all so... normal life stuff, you know?"
Natasha nodded, understanding the unspoken comparison. "You're allowed to want normal things, Sara. Having powers doesn't disqualify you from relationships, education, family."
"I know," Sara sighed, extending into a deeper stretch. "I just wonder sometimes what Harsha and Sesha would think if they knew what I was really doing here. If they saw me—" she extended her hand, allowing a small flame to dance across her palm, "—like this."
"They'd still see their sister," Natasha said simply. "Just with an unexpected addition to her skill set."
"Maybe," Sara closed her fist, extinguishing the flame. "Or maybe they'd look at me the way people look at the Avengers—with fear disguised as awe."
"Is that how you see us?" Natasha asked, her tone neutral but her eyes sharp.
"No," Sara answered honestly. "I see people trying their best with abilities they didn't ask for, making hard choices others don't have to make. But the world sees heroes or monsters, nothing in between."
"And which do you think you'll be?"
The question hung in the air between them, heavier than Natasha probably intended. Before Sara could formulate an answer, JARVIS interrupted.
"Training Program Adaptive-7 is ready, Agent Romanoff. Shall I initiate the sequence?"
"Yes," Natasha moved to the center of the room, motioning for Sara to join her. "And JARVIS? Full environmental variables, randomized sequence."
"Understood. Beginning in three, two, one..."
The training room transformed around them, holographic projections solidifying into what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, complete with rusting machinery, broken windows letting in slivers of simulated moonlight, and the sound of rain pattering on a metal roof.
"Reconnaissance scenario," Natasha explained, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Hostile forces present but unaware of our position. Objective: locate and secure the target without detection."
Sara nodded, slipping into the mindset she'd been developing over months of similar exercises. Her bare feet moved silently across the simulated concrete floor as she followed Natasha's lead, staying low, using the shadows for cover.
The first "hostile"—a hard-light hologram programmed with basic AI responses—appeared on the catwalk above them. Sara froze, calculating distances and angles, aware that her usual fire abilities would immediately give away their position in this scenario.
Instead, she gestured to Natasha, pointing out a route that would keep them beneath the catwalk, hidden from the patrol's line of sight. Natasha nodded approval, and they moved forward, their progress slow but steady.
Three more hostiles appeared, their patrol patterns becoming clear as Sara and Natasha observed from concealment. Sara found herself automatically mapping the movements, identifying the gaps in coverage, planning the optimal path to their objective—a simulated data server in what appeared to be an office at the far end of the warehouse.
"Two options," Sara whispered, indicating alternate routes with subtle hand gestures she'd learned from Clint. "Direct approach through that corridor with a thirty-second window between patrols, or the longer route through the ventilation system."
"Your call," Natasha replied, testing her as always.
Sara evaluated the scenarios quickly. The direct approach was faster but riskier—if the patrol patterns changed, they'd be exposed with no cover. The ventilation route was safer but would take longer, increasing the chances of the overall situation changing.
"Ventilation," she decided. "Better to take the extra time than risk complete exposure."
Natasha nodded, and they moved to a section of wall where a ventilation grate was visible. In a real situation, they'd need tools to remove it, but the training program allowed Sara to use her powers in limited, strategic ways.
Concentrating, Sara directed a thin, intensely hot jet of flame at the holographic screws, careful to maintain precise control over the temperature and size of the fire. The screws "melted" away, and Natasha carefully removed the grate, setting it silently aside.
They crawled through the narrow space, Sara leading the way, using the faintest possible flame at her fingertip to illuminate their path while minimizing the chance of detection.
"Wait," Natasha whispered suddenly, placing a restraining hand on Sara's ankle. "Listen."
Sara froze, straining her ears. At first, she heard nothing beyond the simulated rain and the distant footsteps of the patrolling guards. Then—a faint beeping, rhythmic and accelerating.
"Proximity alarm," Sara realized with a jolt. "The vent is rigged."
"Options?" Natasha prompted, her voice calm despite the implication that they were seconds away from detection.
Sara's mind raced. The beeping was getting faster—they had maybe ten seconds before whatever surveillance system was in place would register their presence. They couldn't go back without being spotted by the patrol below, and continuing forward would trigger the alarm.
In a flash of inspiration, Sara pressed her palms against the metal sides of the ventilation shaft. "Hold on to me," she instructed, already raising her body temperature.
Natasha wrapped her arms around Sara's waist just as the metal beneath them began to warp and give way, softened by the intense heat Sara was generating. They dropped through the weakened section, Sara controlling their descent with carefully timed bursts of flame that slowed their fall and illuminated a small storage room below.
They landed silently, Natasha immediately moving to secure the door while Sara extinguished her flames and listened for any sign their unorthodox exit strategy had been detected.
"Creative solution," Natasha approved quietly. "Though in a real situation, you'd need to be careful about potential combustibles in the drop zone."
"Noted," Sara nodded, already scanning the room for their next move. A small window near the ceiling offered a view of their objective—the server room was directly across a courtyard, now visible through sheeting rain.
"New challenge," Natasha observed. "Open ground, rain limiting visibility but also limiting your flame production, multiple sight lines from guard positions."
Sara studied the situation, considering and discarding various approaches. "I can't cross without being seen," she concluded. "But I could create a diversion that would draw their attention away from your approach."
"Risky," Natasha pointed out. "Splitting up reduces our combined effectiveness."
"Sometimes the best approach isn't the most elegant," Sara countered, remembering one of Steve's frequent observations during strategy sessions. "I create a distraction at the far end of the compound—something flashy but controlled. While they're focused on that, you cross to the server room, secure the data, then signal me for extraction."
Natasha considered the plan, her expression unreadable. "And if I'm compromised? If the diversion doesn't work as planned?"
"Then I adapt," Sara replied simply. "That's the point of this exercise, right? Situational adaptability."
A smile flickered across Natasha's face. "Proceed."
The next ten minutes were a blur of coordinated action. Sara created a diversion by igniting a controlled fire in an empty storage container at the opposite end of the courtyard, carefully managing the flames to create maximum visual impact without actual structural damage. As predicted, the guards converged on the apparent threat, leaving Natasha a clear path to the server room.
Sara maintained the diversion, ready to escalate or contain it as needed, while watching Natasha's progress through the rain. When the spy disappeared into the server room, Sara began planning her own extraction route, aware that the guards would eventually determine the fire was a distraction.
The scenario abruptly shifted. The rain intensified to a downpour, nearly extinguishing Sara's carefully maintained fire. Three additional guards appeared, approaching her position with purpose rather than investigating the diversion. Somehow, she'd been spotted.
"JARVIS, situation update?" Sara called out, abandoning stealth now that detection was confirmed.
"Agent Romanoff has secured the objective but is now surrounded by hostile forces," JARVIS reported. "Four minutes until facility reinforcements arrive."
Sara thought quickly. Her usual tactics—direct fire attacks, flame barriers, heat manipulation—would be severely limited by the downpour. She needed to adapt.
Taking a deep breath, Sara concentrated on raising her core temperature, a technique she'd been perfecting in recent training sessions. The rain sizzled as it hit her skin, creating a wreath of steam that obscured her movements as she darted from her hiding place toward the server building.
The approaching guards fired simulated weapons—light pulses that would register as "hits" if they connected—but the steam cloud and Sara's enhanced agility allowed her to evade most shots. One caught her shoulder, the impact sensors in her training clothes registering a glancing wound that would slow but not incapacitate her.
Reaching the building, Sara pressed her palms against the metal side door, heating the lock mechanism until it failed. She slipped inside, immediately assessing the situation: Natasha stood in the center of the room, surrounded by four guards with weapons trained on her. The data drive they'd come to secure was clutched in her hand.
"Surrender now," one guard was saying, "and—"
Sara didn't let him finish. Dropping into a low stance, she swept her arm in a wide arc, creating a ring of fire around Natasha that expanded outward, forcing the guards to fall back. Taking advantage of their momentary distraction, Natasha vaulted over one guard, disabling him with a precise strike before moving to engage a second.
Together, they made short work of the remaining hostiles, Sara's fire providing containment and distraction while Natasha's combat skills neutralized the threats directly. Within minutes, they stood amid unconscious holographic guards, the data secure, the mission apparently complete.
"Extraction point?" Sara asked, already moving toward the door.
"Northwest corner," Natasha replied, following close behind. "Two hundred meters across open ground, heavy rain, limited visibility."
They exited the building, immediately assaulted by the simulated storm. Sara could barely see ten feet ahead, the rain coming down in sheets now, making each step treacherous on the slick ground.
"New plan," Sara shouted over the downpour. "I can't maintain flames in this, but I can still generate heat."
"What are you thinking?" Natasha asked, her hair plastered to her face by the rain.
"Steam cover," Sara explained. "I heat the ground ahead of us, creating a fog bank to mask our approach. We stay close, move fast, use the limited visibility to our advantage."
Natasha nodded, and Sara immediately began implementing the strategy. Focusing her power downward, she superheated the simulated asphalt beneath them, creating a rolling wave of steam that enveloped them in a thick, warm fog.
They moved together through the artificial mist, Sara constantly adjusting the temperature to maintain their cover without creating too obvious a pattern. When simulated searchlights cut through the darkness, they froze, letting the natural movement of the steam conceal their presence.
"Approaching extraction point," JARVIS announced as they neared their objective. "Be advised: hostiles have established a perimeter. Direct approach inadvisable."
Sara glanced at Natasha, who nodded once—a signal they'd established to indicate that Sara should take the lead. It was a small gesture but one that filled her with pride; Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow herself, trusting Sara's judgment in a tactical situation.
Crouching low, Sara extended her awareness through the steam cloud she'd created, feeling the subtle changes in temperature and air movement that indicated the positions of the holographic guards. Seven of them, arranged in a loose semicircle around what appeared to be a helicopter landing pad—their extraction point.
"I have an idea," Sara whispered, "but it's a bit... dramatic."
"Those are often the best kind," Natasha replied, her eyes gleaming with what might have been anticipation.
Sara described her plan quickly, receiving a nod of approval from Natasha before they separated, each moving to a predetermined position around the perimeter.
Taking a deep breath, Sara focused on her core temperature, pushing it higher than she ever had during training. The rain sizzled and evaporated before it could touch her skin, the steam cloud around her growing thicker, more opaque. She felt the familiar burn in her chest, the power building to a crescendo that demanded release.
On Natasha's signal—a small light flashed three times from across the perimeter—Sara unleashed her power in a controlled but spectacular fashion. A wall of flame erupted in a semicircle opposite the extraction point, the heat so intense it vaporized the simulated rain before it could extinguish the fire.
The guards reacted predictably, moving toward the obvious threat, weapons ready. Meanwhile, Natasha slipped through their abandoned positions, reaching the helicopter moments before Sara's diversion began to falter under the relentless downpour.
As planned, Natasha activated the extraction vehicle, its rotors creating enough noise and wind to cover Sara's approach from the opposite direction. Sara sprinted through the rain, no longer bothering with stealth, focused solely on reaching the helicopter before her diversion failed completely.
A holographic guard spotted her, shouting an alert that was lost in the roar of the rotors and the crash of thunder. Sara didn't hesitate—she launched herself forward in a diving roll that carried her under the guard's aim and up into the helicopter's open door just as Natasha lifted the craft off the landing pad.
"Simulation complete," JARVIS announced as the holographic environment dissolved around them, returning the training room to its normal state. "Mission successful. Casualties: zero. Collateral damage: minimal. Time to completion: seventeen minutes, thirty-eight seconds."
Sara collapsed onto the training room floor, breathing hard, her clothes soaked with real sweat from the exertion of controlling her powers so precisely for so long.
"Not bad," Natasha assessed, offering Sara a hand up. "Your adaptation to changing conditions has improved significantly. The steam cover was particularly effective."
"Thanks," Sara accepted the help, her legs a bit wobbly as the adrenaline began to fade. "I've been working on temperature control in wet conditions. Fire's not much use if it gets rained out."
"Speaking of which," Natasha gestured to Sara's hands, which were still glowing faintly with residual heat, "you might want to cool down before your exam. I doubt your proctor would appreciate scorched answer sheets."
Sara laughed, consciously lowering her body temperature back to normal levels. "Good point. Though quantum mechanics makes more sense when you're solving problems under simulated gunfire, strangely enough."
"Perspective," Natasha agreed with a slight smile. "When you've calculated trajectory arcs while dodging actual bullets, theoretical physics seems considerably less stressful."
They headed to the locker room, Sara's mind already transitioning from combat strategy to academic preparation. It was a mental switch she'd gotten better at over the months—compartmentalizing the different aspects of her increasingly complex life.
"Natasha?" she asked as they gathered their things. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like? To be normal, I mean. No powers, no Avengers, no world-saving responsibilities."
Natasha was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Sometimes," she admitted finally. "But then I remember that 'normal' is relative. Everyone has their battles, their secrets, their burdens. Ours are just more... visible."
"I guess," Sara sighed, running a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. "It's just... Zara's applying to Juilliard, Harsha's moving in with Aurelio, Sesha's startup just got another round of funding. Their lives are moving forward in such clear directions, and I'm just... here. Training for a future I can't even define yet."
"You're fourteen," Natasha pointed out gently. "Most people your age aren't expected to have their futures mapped out."
"Most people my age can't create fire with their thoughts," Sara countered.
"True," Natasha conceded. "But that doesn't mean you have fewer options—it means you have different ones. And more time to explore them."
Sara nodded, absorbing the wisdom in Natasha's words. It was true that most teenagers didn't have to balance school with superhero training, or worry about controlling elemental powers during standardized tests. But most teenagers also didn't have the resources, support, and opportunities that had been made available to her.
"I should shower before my exam," Sara said finally. "Thanks for the training session. And the pep talk."
"Anytime," Natasha replied, her tone unusually warm. "And Sara? That shirt does suit you. The whole look—it's very you."
Sara felt a flush of pleasure at the validation. Her evolving style had been a small but significant aspect of her identity exploration over the past months. The shorter hair, the more masculine clothing choices, the practical boots and minimal accessories—all of it felt right in a way her previous attempts at fashion never had.
Sandhya had noticed the changes, of course, but hadn't commented beyond asking if Sara needed to go shopping for new clothes. Tony had been similarly accepting, though his idea of supporting her style evolution had involved ordering an entire wardrobe of designer menswear in her size, much of which was far too formal for her everyday needs.
It wasn't that Sara was hiding her emerging identity from her parents—more that she was still figuring it out herself. The words to describe how she felt, how she wanted to present herself to the world, were still forming in her mind. For now, it was enough that they accepted her appearance without question, allowing her the space to explore without pressure or expectation.
After a quick shower, Sara changed into clean clothes—a fresh button-up in forest green, dark jeans, her favorite boots—and headed to the secure room where her online examinations were proctored. Her damp hair was combed back from her forehead, emphasizing the clean lines of her new cut in a way that made her feel confident, centered.
"Good luck, Miss Raavi," JARVIS said as she settled at the terminal. "Your examination will begin in two minutes. Dr. Banner asked me to remind you that he's available for questions during your study period this afternoon."
"Thanks, J," Sara replied, arranging her stylus and scratch paper neatly beside the computer. "Tell Bruce I appreciate it, but I think I've got this one."
As the examination loaded on the screen, Sara took a deep breath, consciously shifting mental gears once more. For the next two hours, she wouldn't be a firebender or a superhero-in-training or even Tony Stark's secret daughter.
She would just be Sara Raavi, engineering prodigy, taking another step toward whatever future she eventually chose for herself—be it normal, extraordinary, or somewhere in the fascinating space between.
Later, after completing her exam and joining Bruce for an impromptu lecture on gamma radiation applications (which was technically part of her studies but felt more like hanging out with a particularly brilliant uncle), Sara returned to her room to find a message waiting on her tablet.
Zara [3:45 PM]: Just submitted my Juilliard application! Also, I've been working on a new piece—inspired by that thing you said about finding balance between "fire" and control. Video call tonight?
The familiar warmth spread through Sara's chest—not the burning heat of her powers, but something gentler, more sustaining. She typed back immediately:
Sara [4:01 PM]: Definitely. Can't wait to hear it. Also, congrats on submitting! They'd be idiots not to accept you.
Zara [4:02 PM]: Thanks for the vote of confidence. How was the physics exam?
Sara [4:03 PM]: Surprisingly straightforward after this morning's training. Turns out quantum uncertainty is less intimidating after you've navigated simulated gunfire in a rainstorm.
Zara [4:04 PM]: ...I assume that's a metaphor, but with you, I'm never entirely sure. Your "martial arts" training sounds intense.
Sara smiled, imagining Zara's expression—half skeptical, half amused—as she read the message. Their relationship existed in a curious space of honesty and necessary omission. Sara never lied outright about her powers or training, but she spoke in metaphors and analogies that Zara interpreted as creative descriptions of conventional martial arts practice.
Someday, perhaps, she would be able to show Zara the truth. To demonstrate the fire that danced in her veins, to explain why her training with the Avengers was so much more than preparation for theoretical threats. But for now, this half-truth connection was enough—a bridge between her extraordinary reality and the normal life she sometimes longed for.
Sara [4:06 PM]: It's pretty intense, yeah. But worth it. Helps me focus, you know?
Zara [4:07 PM]: I get it. Like when I'm playing violin and everything else just falls away. Different skills, same feeling.
Sara [4:08 PM]: Exactly. So, video call at 8?
Zara [4:08 PM]: It's a date. A "date date" even. ;)
Sara set the tablet aside, unable to suppress the smile that spread across her face. Her complicated life—with its secrets and responsibilities, its powers and limitations—might never be truly normal. But moments like this, connections like the one she was building with Zara, reminded her that extraordinary didn't have to mean isolated.
As if echoing her thoughts, her phone buzzed with a text from Harsha:
Harsha [4:15 PM]: Hey Chaaru. Quick vote: blue or gray for living room furniture? Aurelio says blue, I say gray is more practical. Need tiebreaker from my stylish little sister.
Such a normal, everyday question. Such a simple, sibling interaction. It grounded her, even as the lingering energy from her training session hummed beneath her skin.
Sara [4:16 PM]: Depends. Navy blue or sky blue? Charcoal gray or silver gray? These details matter, Anna.
Harsha [4:17 PM]: See, this is why I asked you. Aurelio just keeps showing me swatches and saying things like "cerulean" and "heather." I need a translator.
Sara laughed, typing out a detailed response about the merits of different color schemes, enjoying this glimpse into her brother's ordinary domestic concerns. Whatever path she eventually chose—superhero or engineer or something not yet defined—these connections would remain her anchor, her reminder of the human heart beating beneath the extraordinary power.
Across the tower, in his private workshop, Tony Stark reviewed the data from Sara's morning training session, his expression thoughtful as he studied the precise control she'd demonstrated under increasingly challenging conditions. On a separate screen, designs for a fireproof combat suit scrolled past—not yet mentioned to Sara, but ready if—when—the time came for her to step beyond training into something more active.
"She's progressing faster than anticipated," he murmured to himself, making an adjustment to the suit's thermal regulation system. "JARVIS, update the Inferna Protocol. Phase Three looks like it might be coming sooner than we thought."
"Yes, sir," the AI responded. "And shall I inform Miss Raavi of these developments?"
Tony hesitated, thinking of Sara's earlier conversation with Natasha about normal lives and undefined futures. About the teenage girl who still video-called with friends and helped her brother pick furniture colors, even as she trained to control powers that could level buildings.
"Not yet," he decided finally. "Let's give her a little more time to just be Sara."