Author's Note: This fic is just... I don't know what it is. BUT, just to clarify: Tony is "Father" and Steve is "Dad". You're welcome.

Not to mention they were the best superheroes on the planet, along with Aunt Natasha, and my uncles Clint, Bruce, and Thor. They're called "The Avengers".

Silly, I know, but they used to fight for earth and all its people, against the most powerful, and insane villains.

Since my dads are, you know, my DADS, they adopted me. I'm okay with that! 100%... Or, well I thought I was.

My dads never told me where I was from, because they really didn't know, themselves. They said, one day, the man from the adoption office came with a baby girl. A few papers were signed and, BAM, I was theirs, and they were mine.

A few years later, like... Maybe, 12, my aunt taught me how to use a gun.

"I need you to know how to use this. Just in case." She stated.

"But why, aunt Tasha? I have 2 super dads to protect me!"

She laughed, "Well, they can't be watching over you 24/7. Uncle Clint might though, watch out for him." She teased, pointing at him.

Another year went by, and I received a letter from an unknown sender. There was no return address on the envelope, but there was a signature on the letter. The initials "JM" followed by some "X's". The letter read:

Dearest Maeve,

Happy 13th Birthday! I hope you've enjoyed turning into a young woman. You've grown so much since I've last seen you. Your fathers are treating you well, I hope. I plan to see you in the future. You probably won't remember me. Your parents might. Hope to see your bright and smiling face soon.

-JM xx

This mysterious letter from the even more mysterious "JM" matched up to everything about me; Everything except my name. My dads named me "Arika", not "Maeve". I didn't believe in coincidence, so either the sender had some name issues, or my dads weren't telling me the whole story.

I confronted my dads soon after receiving the letter.

"Who's 'JM'?"

"I don't know anyone with the initials of JM." Dad said.

"I don't know either, Arika." Father agreed.

"It all adds up. I've just turned 13, I've got two dads, but the only thing is, my name's not 'Maeve'." I argued, "What aren't you telling me?"

They both appeared to be baffled. Maybe this letter was a misunderstanding. Maybe there was someone out there, named Maeve, with 2 dads, and who is the same age as me.

Two years went by before I heard from "JM" again. This time, we had a close encounter. Too close for comfort.

I was walking down the street to Stark Towers after class. I was finally old enough to walk alone to and from school. I reached into the pocket of my yellow sundress for my phone.

I wasn't looking where I was going, and I ran into someone.

"Sorry, Ma'am!" I said. She only scoffed.

As I was turning back around from the woman, I hit another person!

"I am so sorry, sir!" I said, astonished at what I had just done.

"It's quite alright, miss." He was tall, with slick black hair, and eyes as captivating and endless as the night sky.

"I didn't mean to, I just wasn't paying attention! I'm sorry!" I continued in distress.

"Miss, it's alright. Really. No harm done, see?" He outstretched his arms to show that he was alright. His voice was smooth like silk and his accent was from somewhere in Europe.

"I like your... Where are you from?" I asked.

"I'm from London."

"You don't sound like you are."

He chuckled, "I grew up in Dublin." Irish. That's what it was.

"Well, listen, sir, I'm running late to dinner with my dads." I explained.

"Oh, no go on," he grinned. "By the way, what was your name again?"

"My name's Arika! Arika Stark-Rogers." I held out my hand to shake.

He gripped my hand ever so lightly, "That's a pretty name." He kissed my knuckles. "Jim. Pleasure."

I laughed. "See you around, Jim!" I yelled back to him as I ran back home.

He mumbled something that I didn't hear.

When I arrived, my parents were getting ready for dinner.

"You're late." Father said as he set the table.

"I know, I know, but not by much! I accidentally ran into people on the way home." I protested.

"Did you apologize?" He asked.

"No, father. I took them out to dinner and a movie. Yes, I said I was sorry!" I learned my sarcasm from him.

Dad interjected, "Would you two please just come sit at the table? I made your favourite."

"SPAGHETTI?!" Father and I both exclaimed. Dad nodded, and we all sat down at the table and ate.

After dinner, Aunt Pepper called.

"Tony, there's someone here for you. I'm sending him up."

Once the elevator reached our level, father went over to it to greet the visitor.

The doors opened, and father was struck down by a tranquilizer dart. I screamed as loud as I could for dad, but he was upstairs, and didn't make it in time to see me get taken.

The man was tall. Really tall. His hair was short and bleached blonde. He had grey-blue eyes. He put me in handcuffs and was holding me in a cradle carry.

"Who are you?!"

He didn't answer.

"Why are you doing this?"

Again, no reply.

"Why won't you answer me?"

The man just glared at me. So, I bit him.

He winced in pain and growled as he injected me with tranquilizer fluid.

His face went blurry, and then there was just black.