"Hey Dad! I'm home! … Hello..?" I walked into my small apartment I share with my dad in Baltimore, Maryland. I toss my purse and keys onto the counter as I come back from my daily 3:00 pm run after my work at the R&D department at Stark Industries. Now I know that seems like a strange, especially for a normal 17 year old teenage girl. Shouldn't I be in High School, drooling over the hottest boys and gossiping about who said what to whom about some other girl that didn't do anything to anybody? Normal right? But that's the thing. I'm not normal. Everything on the outside is "normal", but my mind, now that's a different story. I'm smart. Like, really smart. Really, really smart. I have been labeled a genius with a 196 IQ. I am the smartest person in the world, not to toot my own horn. And I don't, because I don't like being different. I graduated high school as a preteen, 12 to be specific, though I was 'technically' still in junior high. I went to MIT after that because I like working with my hands. It calms my mind, so instead of going warp speed, it's goes a relaxing 150 miles an hour. Ahh, just thinking of that relaxes me, for a moment. Running does that too. That's why I run three times a day for an hour each time. Calming. Anyway, Dad's usually home when I get home, so for him to not be here, is strange. I go to the fridge to grab a smoothie of baby kale, apples, and strawberries. As I went to close the fridge door, I notice the hand towel that we wrap around the handle for drying our hands after the dishes, isn't there. I look around and notice it on the floor. 'Hmm, Dad never leaves things out of place', I wonder. As I begin to look around the rest of the apartment, I begin to notice several things are out of place. The area rug has been moved, several photos of Dad and I on various vacations that were hanging on the wall are now on the floor, broken, and the vase of wildflowers on the TV stand next to my father's recliner is across the room; the vase, shattered. I wander around the rest of the house and find nothing out of place, so I decide to try my dad's cell. It goes straight to voicemail.

"Hey Dad, it's me. Just wondering where you are. Call me back ASAP. Love you. Bye." I hang up and stare at the phone in confusion, wracking my brain for anything that could help me figure out where he is. "Tony," I whisper. I have heard my father on the phone with a man named Tony tons of times, but I've never met him or heard his voice. I go into the phonebook on the phone and search for 'Tony'. I don't find anyone with that name. Maybe it's a nickname? I start scrolling through all of the contacts and come across an "Anthony". "Tony is short for Anthony, right?" I mutter to myself. I take a deep breath and dial it.

"BRUCE! BRUCE IS THAT YOU?!" I have to hold the phone away from my ear so I don't go deaf. "Umm, no this is his daughter, Alysha. I was wondering where he was. I assume this is Tony?" I ask the man on the other end.

"Yes it's Tony, but who are you? Bruce has no children. And you'd better tell me now, cause I'm about to ring the doorbell and I want to know if I ought to get my gun." I nearly drop the phone.

"Umm, but I- I don't- I am-," I stutter into the phone.

"Ok, so you're not a spy or the person responsible, hmm. Oh, by the way, open the door," he replies. Ding Dong! I hang up the phone and numbly walk to the door. I take a few seconds to try and get my breathing and heart rate back to normal before I face my father's friend. I slowly open the door just enough to peek out at the man, and when I do, I nearly slam it shut again.

"Ohh, my FUCKING God! TONY FUCKING STARK IS AT MY DOOR! MY BOSS! MY DAD'S….. friend? How does Dad even know the most famous man in the world?" These thoughts race through my head in nanoseconds as I open the door wider to allow him in. There goes the effects of my calming run. He simply nods and instantly goes to the living room and starts inspecting the shattered vase and area around it.

"Hmm, so he was able to control it… good job. He must have tried to defend himself while restraining… difficult…," Tony mutters to himself.

"Excuse me! I mean, excuse me, sir, but I would like to know why you are here and how the hell do you know my father, for he certainly has no reason to know you!" I spat out after several minutes of muttering and poking around without so much as a glance towards me. Tony snaps to attention and immediately extends his hand.

"Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy-,"

"Philanthropist, yaddy yadda yadda, we've all heard it thousands of times!" I interrupt. "And I know who you are. What I want to know is how you know my dad. He's an ordinary man, not some super-human freak."

At this, Tony chuckles. "Ordinary, huh? He must of kept you in the dark. Smart of him. Darling, he is about as far from ordinary as I am from being stupid."

"One: Do NOT, and I repeat, DO NOT call me 'darling' again. Only my father calls me that. And two: what do you- no, why do you think that he's more than ordinary? I mean, I think he's the best guy ever but he's just a regular Joe. He's a high school teacher for crying out loud!" I respond, slightly unsteadily.

"Sir, I have been notified of a group of men with tactical armor and several high powered rifles coming up the staircase. Given that this is the only rented apartment on the top floor, I assume they are coming for Ms. Banner," came a semi-robotic voice from nowhere.

"Thanks, J. Well, I guess we'd better be going. Hey, J? Get a full scan of the entire apartment. I want to get a closer look at it when we get back to the house," Tony replies smoothly.

"Of course, sir. Already 50% completed," came the voice again.

"Wh- wh- who is that?" I ask, in shock.

"Oh that's just JARVIS, my personal AI. I had Bruce's home connected to JARVIS's database, for situations such as this," Tony answers as someone begins banging on the door. "Dammit, we're trapped," he mutters.

"No shit, Sherlock," I mutter under my breath.