Chapter 7
November 28th, 2013
Thanksgiving in Avengers Tower was unlike anything Sara could have imagined when she first moved in following the Battle of New York. The gleaming communal kitchen, usually the domain of protein shakes and hastily assembled sandwiches between missions, had been transformed into a chaotic festival of competing culinary traditions.
Steve insisted on preparing his mother's Depression-era recipes ("You haven't lived until you've tried Sarah Rogers' potato stuffing"), while Bruce contributed an array of vegetarian dishes that were surprisingly flavorful. Natasha had disappeared for hours only to return with an assortment of Russian pastries that she refused to explain the origin of, and Clint was zealously guarding his "secret family recipe" sweet potato casserole from Tony's attempts to "improve" it with technological enhancements.
Sandhya, meanwhile, had taken over one section of the kitchen to prepare a fusion Thanksgiving that honored both American traditions and Telugu cuisine. The spicy aroma of her special turkey marinade—a blend of traditional Thanksgiving herbs with garam masala, turmeric, and chili—filled the air, making Sara's mouth water in anticipation.
"No, absolutely not," Sandhya was saying firmly as Sara entered the kitchen, swatting Tony's hand away from a container of spices. "Aniruddh, if you add one more teaspoon of chili powder to that gravy, it will be inedible to everyone except you and Sara."
"The rest of them need to build up their spice tolerance," Tony argued, though he obediently backed away from the stove. "It's pathetic, really. Cap turns red from black pepper."
"That was one time," Steve protested from where he was meticulously crimping the edge of a pie crust. "And it was because you told me it was cinnamon."
Sara smiled, slipping past the good-natured bickering to help Natasha arrange serving dishes on the long dining table that had been set up in the adjacent room. The tower was fuller than usual today—not just the core Avengers, but extended connections as well. Pepper had flown in from the West Coast, Colonel Rhodes had taken leave to join them, Dr. Selvig and Darcy Lewis were representing the absent Thor, and even Maria Hill had accepted the invitation after some persuasion.
"Nervous about the big video chat later?" Natasha asked quietly as they worked, her uncanny ability to read Sara's thoughts still unsettling after all this time.
"A little," Sara admitted, smoothing a linen napkin with unnecessary precision. "It's the first time Zara's meeting Harsha and Sesha virtually. What if it's awkward? What if they don't like each other?"
"Your siblings already like her," Natasha pointed out reasonably. "Based on everything you've told them. And she loves hearing stories about them. The foundation is solid—the rest is just getting comfortable with each other."
Sara nodded, grateful as always for Natasha's straightforward perspective. The past months since Zara's summer visit to Juilliard had transformed their relationship in ways Sara was still processing. The chemistry that had sparked through video calls had ignited into something profound during their two weeks together in New York, confirming what Sara had suspected but been afraid to fully trust—that what they had was real, significant, and worth nurturing despite the distance and complications.
"I just wish she could be here," Sara sighed, glancing at the extra place setting they'd arranged in front of a tablet stand—Zara's virtual seat at the table. "Her parents are so traditional about Thanksgiving. Nothing would convince them to let her miss the family gathering in San Francisco."
"There will be other holidays," Natasha assured her. "And from what you've said, she's already planning to apply to Juilliard full-time next year."
"If she gets in," Sara qualified, though they both knew Zara's chances were excellent. Her summer program performance had earned glowing recommendations from the faculty, and her composition portfolio had only grown stronger since then.
"When she gets in," Natasha corrected with quiet confidence, handing Sara a stack of dinner plates. "And then you'll have plenty of time to introduce her to your very unusual family."
Sara laughed at the understatement. "Sometimes I still can't believe she took everything in stride when she visited. Meeting the Avengers, staying in the tower, getting interrogated by Tony... she didn't even blink."
"She's either very adaptable or very smitten," Natasha observed with the hint of a smile. "Possibly both."
"Definitely both," Sara agreed, warmth spreading through her chest at the memory of Zara's wide-eyed but composed introduction to the tower's residents. She had navigated the complex social dynamics with remarkable grace, holding her own in conversations with Tony about acoustic physics, discussing Russian composers with Natasha, and even managing to draw Bruce out of his shell with thoughtful questions about his research.
"Tables are looking good," Clint commented, appearing suddenly with a bowl of cranberry sauce that definitely hadn't come from a can. "Though I still think we should have gone with my 'Avengers Assemble' place cards."
"No themed décor," Natasha reminded him firmly. "We agreed on 'normal family Thanksgiving' aesthetic, remember?"
"As normal as possible when half the guests could level a city block," Clint muttered, but he was grinning as he set the bowl down and headed back to the kitchen.
Sara finished arranging the silverware, her mind drifting to the training session scheduled for tomorrow morning. Despite the holiday, her development hadn't paused—if anything, it had intensified over the past months, with increasingly complex scenarios and higher expectations from her instructors.
She suspected it had something to do with the secret project still being planned for her birthday in April. Though the adults remained tight-lipped about specifics, Sara had gathered enough fragments of information to form a reasonably clear picture: some form of official recognition, a more defined role within the Avengers framework, perhaps even public acknowledgment of her abilities.
The prospect both thrilled and terrified her. After all this time training in secrecy, the idea of stepping into the light carried a weight she was still learning to measure.
"Earth to Sara," Tony's voice interrupted her thoughts. He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, an apron declaring him "Too Hot to Handle" stretched across his chest. "Your mom needs your fire magic for the crème brûlée. Something about the kitchen torches not being powerful enough for the quantity we're making."
Sara followed him back to the kitchen, where Sandhya was arranging two dozen ramekins of custard on a heat-resistant surface.
"Just enough heat to caramelize the sugar evenly," Sandhya instructed, sprinkling the final ramekin with a thin layer of turbinado sugar. "Not too intense or you'll curdle the custard beneath."
"I know, Amma," Sara assured her, flexing her fingers in preparation. "I've been practicing precision heating with Bruce, remember? I can maintain temperature control within two degrees Celsius now."
"Show-off," Tony commented proudly, watching as Sara extended her hands over the desserts.
With careful concentration, Sara generated a controlled wave of heat, focusing it downward in a precise pattern that melted the sugar into a perfect caramelized crust without affecting the delicate custard beneath. The kitchen filled with the sweet smell of caramelizing sugar as she worked her way methodically across all twenty-four ramekins, adjusting the intensity slightly for each one based on the sugar distribution.
"Perfect," Sandhya declared when she finished, examining the uniformly golden-brown surfaces with approval. "And much faster than doing them one by one with the torch."
"See? Practical applications for pyrokinesis," Tony pointed out. "Gourmet dessert preparation. We should add that to your official capabilities list."
"Right next to 'human furnace during power outages' and 'never needs matches for birthday candles,'" Sara quipped, but she felt a flutter of pride at the casual reference to an "official capabilities list." Another hint at whatever was being prepared for her birthday.
The meal itself was a boisterous affair, conversation flowing as freely as the sparkling cider (and wine for the adults). Sara found herself seated between Bruce and Maria Hill, an arrangement she suspected Natasha had orchestrated to give her a reprieve from Tony's more exuberant social energy.
"How's the thermal manipulation training progressing?" Bruce asked as they served themselves from the parade of dishes circulating the table. "I've been reviewing your session data. The precision control metrics are impressive."
"It's getting easier," Sara confirmed, helping herself to Sandhya's spicy cranberry chutney. "I can maintain multiple temperature zones simultaneously now without as much mental fatigue. And the material response predictions are more accurate—I'm getting better at anticipating how different substances will react to specific heat levels."
"That's the real challenge with your particular abilities," Bruce nodded. "Fire is inherently reactive and contextual. It behaves differently depending on the environment, the fuel source, the oxygen availability. Learning to account for all those variables in real-time is complex physics."
"Speaking of complex physics," Maria Hill interjected with a hint of dry humor, "I understand you've been working with Barton on aerial maneuvers? Something about using fire bursts for controlled mid-air adjustments?"
Sara glanced at the senior SHIELD agent, surprised by her knowledge of the training details. Though Hill visited the tower periodically for official business, she rarely involved herself in Sara's development program.
"Yes, for the past few months," Sara confirmed cautiously. "It's still experimental, but I can achieve limited flight capabilities through sustained, directed fire projection. Nothing like Iron Man's repulsors," she added with a glance toward Tony, who was engaged in an animated debate with Rhodey across the table, "but enough for short-range aerial mobility and evasive maneuvers."
"Interesting," Hill commented, her expression revealing nothing of her thoughts. "And the control factors? Safety parameters?"
"Fully established," Bruce answered before Sara could, his tone carrying a slight protective edge. "Multiple fail-safes, comprehensive monitoring, graduated progression through capability levels. We're taking every precaution."
Hill nodded, apparently satisfied with this response. "Good. I'd be interested in observing a demonstration sometime, if that would be acceptable."
Sara exchanged a quick look with Bruce, reading similar surprise in his expression. Hill's request suggested a level of official interest beyond casual curiosity.
"I'm sure that could be arranged," Sara replied carefully. "With appropriate clearance, of course."
"Of course," Hill agreed with the ghost of a smile. "Fury has been requesting updates on your progress. He's... let's say 'professionally interested' in your development."
Before Sara could process the implications of this statement, a notification chimed from the tablet set up at Zara's empty place setting. Sandhya, seated nearest to the device, tapped the screen to accept the incoming video call.
"Happy Thanksgiving!" Zara's voice rang out, her image appearing on the screen. She was dressed in a deep burgundy sweater that complemented her warm brown skin, her dark hair gathered in an elegant updo that exposed the delicate gold earrings Sara had sent her last month—a small fire symbol that matched the pendant Sara wore around her own neck.
A chorus of greetings answered her, the Avengers welcoming their virtual guest with surprising enthusiasm. Sara felt her cheeks warm at the genuine affection evident in their responses, touched by how readily they had accepted Zara into their unconventional family circle.
"How's the feast in San Francisco?" Tony called out, raising his glass in salute. "Anything close to our spread? Because I'm looking at fifteen different dishes right now, at least three of which I can't pronounce."
Zara laughed, tilting her tablet to reveal a similarly laden table behind her. "We're holding our own, Mr. Stark. My mom made her famous tamales, and my abuela's been cooking since Tuesday."
The conversation flowed easily from there, Zara joining in the table discussions despite the digital barrier. Sara watched her girlfriend navigate the complex social dynamics of the Avengers with admiration, fielding questions about her studies at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music and her plans for Juilliard applications while maintaining the perfect balance of confidence and humility.
Later, after the main meal had given way to coffee and dessert (the crème brûlée receiving universal acclaim), Sara carried the tablet to a quieter corner for a more private conversation.
"So that was Maria Hill," Zara observed, her expression curious. "She seems intense."
"She is," Sara confirmed, settling into a comfortable armchair with the tablet propped on her knees. "She doesn't usually take much interest in my training, so her questions today were... interesting."
"Good interesting or concerning interesting?" Zara asked perceptively.
Sara considered this. "Good, I think? It might be related to whatever they're planning for my birthday. There's been a lot of mysterious 'foundation business' meetings lately."
"The big secret project," Zara nodded, familiar with Sara's ongoing curiosity about the adults' covert planning. "Any new clues?"
"Nothing concrete. But Hill mentioned that Director Fury has been requesting updates on my progress, which feels significant. SHIELD doesn't usually involve itself in my training directly—that's mostly been an Avengers operation."
"Sounds like whatever they're planning involves official recognition of some kind," Zara suggested, verbalizing the conclusion Sara had already reached. "Maybe they're thinking about bringing you into the fold more formally when you turn sixteen?"
"Maybe," Sara agreed, careful to keep her tone casual despite the surge of excitement the idea triggered. Though she'd been open with Zara about her advanced "martial arts" training and her unique position within the tower's social structure, she still maintained the necessary fiction about the exact nature of her abilities.
Someday, she promised herself again. Someday she would be able to share the full truth.
"How long until your brother and sister arrive for the video call?" Zara asked, tactfully changing the subject. Though they'd met briefly during Zara's summer visit, this would be their first extended conversation.
"About thirty minutes," Sara replied, checking the time. "Harsha and Aurelio are having Thanksgiving with Aurelio's family in Atlanta, and Sesha's at a friend's place in Boston. We scheduled the call for after everyone's finished their main meals."
"Nervous?" Zara teased gently, clearly reading Sara's expression.
"A little," Sara admitted. "I want all of you to get along, obviously. You're all important to me."
"It'll be fine," Zara assured her. "From everything you've told me, your siblings are amazing. And they clearly adore you, so we already have that in common."
Sara smiled, the familiar warmth spreading through her chest. "When did you get so wise?"
"I've always been wise," Zara replied with mock seriousness. "You were just too dazzled by my musical genius to notice."
They talked quietly until it was time for the sibling call, Sara providing running commentary on the Avengers' post-dinner activities—Tony and Rhodey engaged in what appeared to be a competitive pie-eating contest, Natasha and Clint disappearing suspiciously with a deck of cards and returning with smug expressions, Bruce and Dr. Selvig deep in scientific discussion while Darcy attempted to explain TikTok to Steve.
When the notification for the group call appeared, Sara took a deep breath before accepting it, Harsha and Sesha's faces joining Zara's on the split screen.
"Happy Thanksgiving, little sister!" Harsha greeted, his arm around Aurelio, both of them wearing matching sweaters that Sara suspected were an ironic fashion choice. "And happy official virtual introduction, Zara! We've heard so much about you."
"All good things, I hope," Zara replied with a warm smile.
"Mostly," Sesha teased, her backdrop revealing what looked like a stylish apartment with a piano visible in the corner. "Though Sara's terrible at hiding her crush, so we've had to endure months of sighing and dreamy expressions."
"I do not sigh dreamily," Sara protested, feeling her cheeks heat.
"You absolutely do," Harsha and Sesha confirmed in unison, the twin synchronicity that still emerged occasionally making Sara laugh despite her embarrassment.
The conversation flowed easily from there, any awkwardness quickly disappearing as they discovered shared interests and complementary senses of humor. Sesha and Zara delved into an animated discussion about music theory that left Harsha dramatically pretending to fall asleep until Aurelio nudged him back into the frame.
"So," Harsha said when there was a natural lull, "we've been talking, the three of us..."
"Four of us," Aurelio corrected, leaning into the frame.
"Right, four," Harsha amended. "And we've been thinking about plans for your birthday, Sara."
Sara straightened, suddenly alert. "My birthday? That's still months away."
"Five months," Sesha confirmed. "Which is exactly why we need to start planning now. Sweet sixteen is a big deal."
"We want to do something special," Zara added, revealing that she'd been part of these discussions. "Something memorable."
"And we know the tower crew probably has their own plans," Harsha continued, "but we thought maybe the weekend after your actual birthday, we could all get together in New York? Aurelio and I can fly in, Sesha's already there, and Zara mentioned she might be able to schedule her Juilliard audition around the same time."
"Really?" Sara turned to Zara's portion of the screen in surprise. "You didn't tell me you'd scheduled your audition."
"It's not confirmed yet," Zara clarified. "But I'm hoping to arrange it for that weekend. Two birds, one stone—Juilliard audition and birthday celebration with my amazing girlfriend and her family."
The casual use of the term "girlfriend" still sent a pleasant thrill through Sara, even after months of officially defining their relationship. The summer visit had transformed their connection from theoretical to undeniably real, and though the separation since had been difficult, their bond had only strengthened through the deliberate effort of maintaining it across distance.
"I'd love that," Sara said sincerely, touched by the coordinated planning her siblings and Zara had undertaken. "All of you in New York at once would be amazing."
"Then it's settled," Sesha declared with satisfaction. "Operation Sweet Sixteen: Family Edition is a go."
Sara laughed at the coincidental echo of the secret project name she'd overheard Tony use. "You guys are the best. Seriously."
They chatted for another hour, making preliminary plans for the birthday weekend while catching up on each other's lives. Harsha and Aurelio were considering buying a house in Atlanta now that they both had stable jobs, Sesha's music-tech startup had secured another round of funding, and Zara's compositions were attracting attention from increasingly prestigious quarters.
By the time they said their goodbyes, with promises to continue planning via group chat, Sara felt a profound sense of contentment. Despite the extraordinary circumstances of her life—the secret training, the powers, the complex web of identities she navigated daily—she had somehow managed to build and maintain these normal, loving connections that anchored her.
Returning to the main gathering, she found the Avengers had transitioned from dinner to what appeared to be an increasingly competitive game of charades, with Tony performing what might have been an impression of the Hulk, much to Bruce's visible discomfort.
"Everything good with the siblings?" Natasha asked, sliding over on the couch to make room for Sara.
"Great, actually," Sara confirmed, settling beside her mentor. "They're planning a birthday gathering for the weekend after my actual birthday. Zara might come too, if she can schedule her Juilliard audition around the same time."
Something flickered across Natasha's expression—a brief calculation that Sara had learned to recognize as the spy processing new information and adjusting plans accordingly.
"That sounds perfect," Natasha said after a moment. "The weekend after gives you time to... adjust to whatever happens on your actual birthday."
Sara studied her, once again struck by how Natasha managed to acknowledge the secret planning without actually revealing anything concrete. "So there is something significant happening on my actual birthday," she pressed, seizing the opportunity.
"I didn't say that," Natasha replied smoothly.
"You didn't not say it either," Sara pointed out.
Natasha's lips curved in the subtle smile that indicated she was pleased with Sara's perception. "Let's just say it's good that your family celebration is scheduled with a buffer. And leave it at that."
Sara nodded, accepting that this was all the confirmation she was likely to get. "Fine. Keep your secrets, Romanoff."
"I always do," Natasha agreed lightly, though her expression held genuine affection. "How's the hand-to-hand coming? I noticed you incorporated that modified Systema technique into yesterday's training session."
The conversation shifted to training specifics, Sara grateful for Natasha's willingness to discuss her progress openly even if the future plans remained shrouded in secrecy. They debated the relative merits of different combat approaches, Natasha offering insights on how Sara might adapt traditional techniques to complement her fire abilities.
"The key is integration," Natasha explained, demonstrating a subtle weight shift that could precede either a conventional strike or a fire projection. "Your powers should be an extension of your physical capabilities, not a separate system. The most effective fighters blend all their tools seamlessly."
"Like how you incorporate tech into hand-to-hand," Sara observed, thinking of how fluidly Natasha transitioned between unarmed combat and deploying her Widow's Bites in training demonstrations.
"Exactly," Natasha confirmed. "The moment of hesitation when switching between modes is often where vulnerabilities appear. Eliminate that transition gap, and you elevate your effectiveness significantly."
Their discussion was interrupted by Tony's triumphant shout as his team apparently scored a point in charades, prompting good-natured protests from Steve's team about technicalities in the rules.
"We should join before they resort to actual combat," Natasha suggested dryly, rising from the couch. "Coming?"
Sara followed, immersing herself in the surprisingly intense game. The normalcy of it struck her anew—Earth's mightiest heroes, gathered in a living room arguing about whether "technically that was three words, not two" while eating pie straight from the tin.
These moments of ordinary connection had become increasingly precious as her training intensified. The balance between power and humanity, between extraordinary capability and simple joy—this was what made the Avengers more than just a team of enhanced individuals. It made them a family, albeit an unconventional one.
Later that night, after the games had concluded (with Natasha and Clint's team emerging victorious, to no one's surprise) and the guests had departed, Sara found herself alone on the tower's observation deck, watching the lights of New York spread out below. The city had healed remarkably in the eighteen months since the Battle, though signs of that day remained in altered skylines and memorial sites scattered throughout Manhattan.
She heard the deck door slide open behind her but didn't turn, recognizing Tony's footsteps as he approached.
"Thinking deep thoughts?" he asked, coming to stand beside her at the railing.
"Just reflecting," Sara replied, glancing at her father—biological and now emotional as well, as their relationship had deepened over time. "Thanksgiving makes you appreciate what you have, I guess."
Tony nodded, his expression unusually contemplative as he gazed out at the city. "A lot has changed since last year."
"Everything has changed," Sara agreed. "My powers, my training, Zara, coming out... sometimes I can't believe it's only been a year and a half since the Battle. Since..." she trailed off, the familiar pang of grief for Arun still present, though no longer as razor-sharp.
"Since we lost him," Tony finished quietly. "I know. I think about him every day, you know. Wonder what he'd think about all this—you, me, the training, the plans we're making."
Sara turned to study his profile, the rare vulnerability in his expression making him look more like the man Sandhya had fallen for all those years ago than the armor-clad hero the world knew.
"What plans are we making, exactly?" she asked, seizing the opening.
Tony chuckled, the moment of openness receding though not disappearing entirely. "Nice try, firecracker. But that's still classified until April."
"It was worth a shot," Sara shrugged, turning back to the view. "But seriously—what do you think he'd think? About all of this?"
Tony was silent for a long moment, considering the question with unusual gravity. "I think he'd be proud," he said finally. "Terrified for you, yes. Worried about the path ahead. But fundamentally proud of who you're becoming—your courage, your determination to use these abilities for something meaningful."
"I hope so," Sara said softly.
"I know so," Tony countered with quiet certainty. "Arun Raavi was many things, but above all, he believed in doing what was right, even when it was difficult. You embody that principle every day, Sara. In your training, in how you approach your powers, in the choices you make."
They stood in companionable silence for a while, the city humming with life below them, stars barely visible above through the light pollution. Sara felt a deep contentment in this moment—standing beside her father, reflecting on the man who had raised her, secure in the knowledge that she carried the best of both within her.
"Whenever I work with the fire," she said finally, "I feel this... responsibility. Like these powers came with a purpose attached, though I'm still figuring out exactly what that is. Does that make sense?"
"Perfect sense," Tony assured her. "That's how it felt when I built the first Iron Man suit in that cave. Like I'd been given a second chance for a reason, and I had to make it count."
"How did you know what direction to take it?" Sara asked, genuinely curious about his journey. "How did you figure out the right path?"
"Trial and error," Tony admitted with a self-deprecating smile. "Mostly error, if we're being honest. I made plenty of mistakes, took wrong turns. But the core principle stayed the same—use what I had to protect people who couldn't protect themselves."
Sara nodded, absorbing this. "That's what I want too. To protect people. To make a difference with these abilities instead of just... having them."
Tony's expression softened with pride and something deeper—a recognition, perhaps, of the legacy continuing through her. "That's exactly what we're working toward," he said, the closest he'd come to directly confirming the purpose of the secret birthday plans. "And for what it's worth, I think you're going to be extraordinary at it."
"Thanks, Dad," Sara replied, the term still feeling slightly unfamiliar on her tongue but increasingly right. She had started using it more frequently in private moments like this, testing the weight of it, finding it fit better with each passing month.
Tony's arm came around her shoulders, a brief squeeze conveying what he sometimes struggled to express verbally. "Happy Thanksgiving, firecracker."
"Happy Thanksgiving," she echoed, leaning into the embrace briefly before they both turned back to contemplation of the skyline.
Whatever lay ahead—whatever the secret plans entailed, whatever new challenges awaited—Sara felt increasingly ready to face it. The past year and a half had transformed her in profound ways, building her from a frightened girl with unpredictable powers into something approaching the hero she hoped to become.
Five more months until her birthday. Five months of continued training, continued growth, continued preparation for whatever the future held.
Sara took a deep breath of the crisp November air, feeling the familiar warmth of her powers humming beneath her skin—no longer a terrifying unknown but a part of her identity she had learned to embrace.
Whatever came next, she would be ready.
Across the city, in a secure SHIELD facility, Nick Fury reviewed the latest training footage of Sara's abilities, his expression unreadable as he studied the precision and control she demonstrated. Beside him, Maria Hill provided commentary on the day's observations from the tower.
"Stark's timeline still has her officially joining on her sixteenth birthday?" Fury asked, pausing the footage on a frame of Sara manipulating multiple flame structures simultaneously.
"Yes," Hill confirmed. "The team is unanimous in their assessment that she's ready. The suit is in final production, the training regimen for the transition period is established, and the documentation for her official support role is prepared."
"And public introduction?"
"Gradual rollout beginning in May, controlled press release, limited mission participation at first. Stark and Rogers have been quite thorough in planning the progression."
Fury nodded slowly, considering this information. "And the codename? Has that been finalized?"
"Inferna," Hill replied. "It was originally Stark's designation for her training protocol, but it's evolved into her operational identifier in all planning documents."
"Inferna," Fury repeated, testing the sound of it. "Appropriate. Latin root meaning 'of the flames' or 'from below.' Carries connotations of both power and transformation."
"The team believes it suits her," Hill agreed. "Though she herself doesn't know it yet. That reveal is part of the birthday presentation."
Fury resumed the footage, watching as Sara executed a complex sequence of flame manipulations that would have been impossible for her six months ago. "The world is changing, Hill," he observed after a moment. "New threats emerging, new players entering the field. We need to be prepared."
"And you believe she'll be an asset to that preparation?"
"I believe," Fury replied deliberately, "that Sara Raavi represents the next generation of what the Avengers can become. Young, yes, but with potential that extends beyond mere firepower. She has Stark's ingenuity, Rogers' moral compass, and Romanoff's adaptability. More importantly, she has something many of our current assets lack—perspective on power that comes from developing it gradually, thoughtfully, with proper guidance."
Hill nodded, understanding the implicit comparison to how many of the current Avengers had come into their abilities—through trauma, accident, or manipulation.
"Five more months until the official transition," Fury noted, closing the file with a decisive gesture. "Keep me updated on any significant developments. And Hill? Make sure that observation session happens soon. I want a firsthand assessment before making final approval."
"Yes, sir," Hill confirmed, already mentally scheduling the logistics of arranging such a session without revealing to Sara the full significance of SHIELD's interest in her progress.
As the facility powered down for the night, the plans for Sara's future continued to take shape, pieces moving into position with the careful precision of a strategy months in the making.
Five more months until Project Inferna officially activated. Five more months until a new Avenger rose from the flames of possibility into reality.