For Debs1990, I hope you like it!

Word Count: 986

i know exactly what i want (and who i want to be)

There had never been a point where Anthony Stark had not cursed Howard Stark for the name the man had assigned his child.
Of course, this wasn't the only reason why, it was simply the first and the most obvious.

Anthony Stark was decidedly not male. She had never been and, quite frankly, she had no idea why her father insisted she get that stupid name.

The name her mother had given her was so much nicer, fit her so much better, that she went by Cassandra more often than she did not.

And, depending on where they were, the name Cassandra Carbonell did not only sound a whole lot better, it was also more useful than the name Stark could ever be.

Which was saying something.

(it got infinitely more impressive after she took over her father's company, but for some reason people always forgot that)

In retrospect, Cassandra had spent her childhood years networking like she knew what was coming.

She didn't, but she had the strong suspicion that even if she did, no one would believe her. After all, she was just the stupid little girl living off Daddy's money.

Yeah, no. Not really. But that's not the point right now.

All of Cassandra Carbonell Stark's friends would turn out to be important and powerful in at least one sense later in life—there was almost a guarantee for it—as opposed to Howard's friends who generally were assholes.

(that alone said more about their true faces than the tabloids ever did)

The number of actual, loyal, true friends Howard has made were roughly three, if one counted Steve Rogers.

Cassandra's list of friends was quite a bit longer than that.

It started out pretty small. Her first real friend—Bruce and Sharon were her cousins and didn't count—was Hope Pym.

They had met at a gala that both of their fathers had attended when Sharon, the oldest, had turned ten two weeks ago, Hope was eight and Cassandra being slightly younger at six.

(it was fine, though. she was used to being the youngest among her peers)

Their fathers spent the entire evening ignoring them and glaring at each other.

Cassandra's mother came over to the corner of the pre-teens—and yes, it was actually just the three of them, provided you ignored the stupid ones—every once in awhile, checking on whether or not they were fine—they were.

At first, Hope was set on ignoring or maybe annoying Cassandra, but that changed when Cassandra started to complain about her father to Sharon.

"Honestly, he's almost never home! And when he is...well, let's just say it's not great," the girl admitted. "To be honest, I'm not sure he's aware she has a daughter and not a son."

"That's horrible." It took Hope a moment to realize that it was her who said that. "He shouldn't do that."

"I know," Cassandra replied, before she shrugged. "But what can I do?"
"Just prove to him and the world, that you are worth paying attention to," Hope advised.

Sharon nodded. "Exactly. You're so smart, Cassie!"
"Don't call me that!" Cassandra snapped.

"So what should I call you?" Hope asked. "I assume it's not…"

"You're most certainly right about that."Cassandra shook her head. "Call me Cas. Or San. Or stick to Cassandra. Either of those works."

"Alright, San" Hope acknowledged, causing her new friend to grin, showing off her missing teeth.

It was right there and then that Hope decided that Cassandra was now her friend.

There is a good reason why Cassandra—Cas or San to her friends—would not have any trouble taking over the world, should she decide she wants to.

Actually, there were several of those. Her intellect, her company, but also, possibly most importantly, her friends.

After their first conversation, Hope and Cassandra started to write each other more and more frequently.

Consequently, it was of no surprise that Hope ran immediately ran towards the smaller girl as soon as she spotted her on the next gala. It was the first time Hope had wanted to arrive on time, and, of course, the first time they were late.

So Cassandra had already started talking to a few other children by the time Hope arrived.

"This is Bruce Wayne," Cassandra motioned to a boy roughly five years her senior. "He's actually a cousin from my mom's side."

Bruce gave a small bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Then there's," Cassandra continued with a chuckle, "is Prince T'Challa of Wakanda. I pronounces that correctly, right?"

The African boy—he was maybe seven—to her right nodded and Cassandra's smile grew in size. "Good. And this is—and please do correct me if I make mistakes—Fujikawa Rumiko."

The Japanese teen next to Bruce smiled. "You got it right, Cas."

"I'm Hope Pym," she introduced herself confidently as Cassandra beamed.

"Nice to meet you," Prince T'Challa also bowed slightly, as did Rumiko, although their bows looked different from both Bruce's and each other's.

Unsure what else to do, Hope gave a small courtesy, but the others only chuckled.

"It's fine," T'Challa reassured her. "I personally do not care all that much about such etiquette from people outside of Wakanda. Many of my teachers assure me that this will change, but I am not certain of it."

"And bowing is simply how we greet each other in Japan," Rumiko explained. "It's how I was raised."
"As for me, my parents are of the Gotham elite," Bruce informed her. "Not bowing could be a social faux-pas that could lead to devastating consequences." Bruce paused, seemingly realizing the company he was in. "But that's not something we should talk about now."
Rumiko nodded. "I agree. Now, Cassandra, I believe you were telling us about the engine you are working on?"

There was a glee in the six-year-old's eye that was so full of childish pride and excitement, that Hope could only barely stop herself from cooing.