Unveiling
The opening of the visitors center spanned the last part of the work week as well as the weekend. People could enjoy interactive exhibits, explore displays on each Avenger--similar to but smaller than the one Cap had had in the Smithsonian--and most of the Avengers themselves rotated through to greet the visitors. They were in costume, and once it got out that you could shake Black Widow's hand or give Cap a hug, attendance skyrocketed. It got to be a bit much for Peter, whose skin-tight costume led to some unfortunate gropes, so he was partnered with Tony, who wasn't shy about telling fans when there'd been enough contact. Bruce wasn't part of the show, so he and Nick and I wandered around, judging the crowd reaction, hearing what they liked and didn't like, what they'd like to see. We were enjoying funnel cakes at the end of lunch in the restaurant on Friday, when a family with a boy and a girl sat down at the next table. Bruce's back was toward them, so they didn't realize that the Hulk (kinda) was listening to their critique of his action figure. (The boy thought it wasn't scary enough, the girl thought the shade of green was off. It was. It was too blue.) They wondered why his shirt always tore but not his pants. He'd also gotten the Black Widow figure; he thought she was cool and thought that there was something between the two superheroes, based on footage from some of their actions where Natasha had been caught calming him down. I was muffling my laughter; Nick didn't bother, and Bruce was crimson. Then the girl took her toy out of her bag.
It was me.
My costume, actually. I was torn between being amazed that amazed that anybody would buy one and embarrassment of my own. It was one of the expensive ones too, with a real horsehair crest on the helmet and clothes rather than molded plastic. Her brother made fun of her, it was a new Avenger, not even a real hero, somebody who worked for the real heroes. I had to nod at that; we were kind of on the same page. The girl retorted that brains could outdo brawn, at least the figure was clothed, and that the costume was cool, and thanked her mom for shelling out for it. The mom sounded tired when she said that it was hard to find superheroes that were women, and that she wished there was more merchandise for this particular figure. Bruce nudged me. I suddenly had a lot more compassion for him. Nick took our tray to clear the table, and on the way back, he stopped at the next table, introduced himself, thanked them for coming, and engaged the little girl about the new Avenger. He pointed out the hammer, told the spellbound family that it had been given to me by Odin himself (glossing over the reasons why) and highlighted some of my accomplishments, including the work I'd put in helping to create the new manacles for Hulk's countermeasures, and saying that I was responsible for the increasing use of nonlethal options in the fights with the supervillains. The dad's response was very favorable; that shift was the reason he'd agreed to the trip, he said. He was an insurance adjuster. They'd come from Santa Fe for the opening. Nick invited them to stick around that afternoon, provided a pass for dinner at the restaurant, and Bruce and I met him outside the restaurant. I knew what was coming next.
Bruce drove me back to my workshop, where, for the first time, I suited up as an Avenger. Thor, alerted by Nick, came with us, and we made a surprise appearance at the end of a Q and A session that Cap, Iron Man, Falcon, War Machine, Black Widow, and Ant Man were having. Steve covered his laugh with a cough, and after the screams from excited girls over Thor died down, I got my first question.
"Why are you wearing a cape like Thor's? Doesn't it get caught on things"
"The cape was a gift from Odin, Thor's father," I explained. "It does sometimes get caught on things, but it's detachable, so I don't always have to wear it."
"Did you meet his dad? Does he like you? Does that mean you're getting married?" another kid wanted to know. Thor and I looked at each other in horror and I stepped away from him. Steve totally lost it.
"No, no, there's no wedding plans, just friendship," I said hastily, glad that my mask hid my face. Steve left the stage, but I could still hear him. He was practically crying with laughter.
"Why are you carrying a baby hammer?" a teenager asked.
"It's another present," I had to admit. "I use it in my work."
"Is it like Thor's?" another eager voice asked. "Does it shoot fire and stuff?"
I laughed. "No, nothing that exciting. It just helps me do my best work." No idea if that was really true, but it sounded good, and I had crafted Odin's knife with it, which was some darn good work.
"Does that mean you can use Thor's hammer too?" somebody called out, and Thor and I looked at each other, not sure what to do with this one. Tony stepped up between us, put his arm around my shoulders and patted Thor's back.
"Show them what she can do!" he encouraged Thor theatrically, then stepped back, gesturing to the crowd, who began to clap and yell. Thor shot him a venomous glance, and handed me Mjolnir. I wasn't quite sure what to do with two hammers. The crowd quieted suddenly, then erupted.
"How can you do that?" somebody gasped, and I shrugged uncomfortably.
"I don't know, actually," I said, and hastily passed Mjolnir back to its rightful wielder. "It's one too many hammers, though." That got a laugh. There were a few more questions about what it is that I do, Steve rejoined us, wiping his eyes, and Tony, the master showman, took control of the event again; I was grateful to step to the back. Other heroes got to talk and engage the crowd, and at the end, I found myself wedged between Tony and Steve as fans came up to talk and get us to sign things. Little girls who were too shy to approach Thor or Tony aggressively mobbed me, talking a mile a minute, asking how I got my skills, including the little girl from lunch. I took the opportunity to advocate for STEM studies, then boys started to join the crowd.
"Why don't you have a breastplate like Sif's?" one crestfallen teenage boy said to me, noting the lack of the individual boob cups on mine.
"It's armor, not a bra," I said crisply. "If you wear that kind of armor, you're providing a perfect guide to where your heart is located, so that it's easier for an enemy to target. There's no reason to sexualize armor." It's true; a spear point or sword will follow the line of the corset-type armor right to the sternum. With regular armor, there's more guessing involved. The kid looked disappointed and moved on.
Toward the end of the panel, I see Nick in the background, watching and waiting. I made a discreet exit, and he drove me back to the workshop. "That kind of sucked," I said, taking off my helmet and mask, putting the helmet back on its stand and setting aside the mask to be washed. I'd been nervously sweating a lot.
"You did a good job," he appraised me. "You reassured parents that there's somebody who's putting thought into the Avengers armament, which shows we care, you're providing a good role model for little girls who don't like the fighting and/or who don't want to just have crushes on the cuter Avengers, and you're making people evaluate you based on your skills, not your appearance."
"Because nobody can see my face," I point out, pulling my costume off. I have a t-shirt and bike shorts on underneath. I stretch after all the plating is off; it's heavy, even with the lighter weight metals I used.
"Masked heroes with secret identities are good," Tony said, popping in, also out of his Iron Man suit. "You add good dimensions to our roster of personalities. Smart like Bruce and me, but less threatening. Hefting Thor's hammer makes you more trustworthy; the blue in your costume associates you subliminally with Cap, whose main costume color is also blue, and that gives you a more trustworthy feel. You're keeping us from killing people, you're engaging little girls....lots to like. Plus the unveiling of a new superhero, especially a woman, will generate a lot of positive buzz. A lot of smartphone videos of your appearance are up on social media." He surveys my costume. "But that kid was right. You should have armor that lifts and separates."
"No."
"People expect the corset look."
"People are too hung up on breast size." I hang up the cape. The Asgardians have their share of issues, but their cloth is aces. Not any snags or wrinkles, and it resists staining from the sticky paws of the kids who grabbed it this afternoon.
"Your fan base would explode," Tony tried again.
"My fans should appreciate my brain and abilities, not my tits," I say quellingly. "That's enough, Tony. I know that sex sells, but it's not going to work here."
"Why not?" he said, surveying me. "You're proof that middle aged women are hot."
I stare at him. "Because I've learned that the brain is a lot sexier than the packaging it's contained in. And brains don't look sexy." Nick laughed.
Tony preens. "Are you saying I'm sexy?" he asks.
"No, I'm saying that I am. It's just not the most important thing about me, though, and it's not what I want to be known for." He looks, briefly, disappointed, but rebounds fast.
"Let me know if you change your mind," he says. We all meet up later in the third floor play room. There's a lot of talk about my appearance and how the fans took it.
"You make cape swirling look good," Sam tells me.
"We've got a lot more requests for press credentials for the weekend," Nick notes, and Tony rubs his hands together. He does love the image control aspects.
The sugar rush from the funnel cake has faded, and I lead the charge to the cafeteria for a good dinner. Then it's back to the play room, but we make it an early night. It's tiring have to "be" somebody, and now I'm expected to make appearances over the weekend with the others. Tony is having more of the less-expensive Armorer merchandise shipped in overnight.
The weekend passes in a flurry of hear-pounding terror (I don't really like public speaking), a cramped hand from signing autographs, and I find my boots need better arch support. The press is generally really good and the people who show up are enthusiastic. When I show up without the costume, I mingle and listen to what people are saying; most people like the center and appreciate the outreach effort; other are more cynical about the marketing and think it's an effort to distract from the damage that still results despite our efforts. I get requests from interviews, not only from main-stream media, but also magazines like Make, Scientific America, and New Scientist. Teachers groups want me to endorse STEM programs, especially for girls. It's completely overwhelming, and I hide until Tony makes me act. He's got a list of requests he thinks I should turn down, a list of things to accept (some of the magazine interviews), and some for me to decide. We're getting a new PR team, too, to keep our message that we stand in response to the criminals and villains out there as well as to handle the fan mail. As a group, we decide to do all media at the visitors center; no press will be allowed past the gates to the compound where we live. We need to guard our privacy carefully.
It's a lot to get used to, and I'm not sure I ever really will. But I appreciate that I've earned a way to progress from a rather bitter mutant hermit to a mutant who can make real contributions. And along the way, I've gained a pretty extraordinary group of friends and comrades. It all keeps me on my toes and keeps life interesting, and my work keeps me engaged and sharp. What more can you ask for?
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The story continues in Book Two, Duty.