Clint

"And one more thing: can you please not permanently nest in my vents?"

I roll my eyes at the billionaire but nod. "Sure thing, Tony. So no nesting in the vents, your room, the labs, or anyone else's room?"

He nods cheerfully. "Yep. Except Romanoff's room, if she's cool with that…" he trails off with a shrug.

I chuckle. Tony opens his mouth to add more places to my 'no nest' list, but he's cut off by his phone ringing Shinedown's Diamond Eyes. His brow scrunches as he studies the screen for a moment, before taking a few steps away and answering the phone.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop, really. Just, he wasn't that far away, so…

"Is everything okay? You're still in session, right?"

"Calm down, Taylor, what-"

"Okay, remember what Happy taught you, just-"

"Okay, okay, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I will. Bye."

I quickly duck, turn, and assume a mask of innocence as Tony walks back to me, shoving his phone in his pocket. "I'm going to have to cut the tour short, sorry. Do you know if Banner is free?"

I shake my head. "Meeting at HQ."

"Rogers?"

"With Banner. Why? You hate him."

He sighs. "How would you like to go run an errand?"

I frown slightly at his obvious deflection of the question, but nod hesitantly. "What, like, grocery shopping, or…?"

He shakes his head as he shrugs on a coat and grabs a set of keys, walking quickly towards the elevator. I have no choice but to follow.

A~A~A

Fifteen minutes later, a silver four-door Porsche is pulling up in front of a school of some sort. Tony quickly gets out and begins walking again. I quickly catch up, then decide to find out why I've been dragged here.

"Where are we?"

"Cornell Tech."

"Why?"

He looks at me with sharp eyes. "When did this become a game of twenty questions?"

I raise my hands in surrender. "Okay, jeez, sorry. Touchy…"

He pays me no mind and just picks up the pace, glancing at his phone every ten seconds.

And then we both freeze as we hear the scream – a girl's scream – bounce off the building around us.

I quickly unclip the pistol at my hip while Tony just runs even faster, faster than I've ever seen him move.

We round the corner to see a sight that not only was I the victim of numerous times, but still gets my blood to boil.

Three big, ripped meatheads in jersey are crowded around a huddled shape pressed against the brick wall, assaulting their victim with both jeers and blows.

I'm about to make my presence known but Tony beats me to it, shouting with more concern and fear in his voice than I've heard since…ever.

"Taylor, run for it!"

The huddled figure moves suddenly, leaving a purple blur as it takes off, running away from the buildings. The person easily vaults over a four foot fence before ducking behind some dumpsters.

"Hey!"

I whirl around to see the goons advancing towards us, their knuckles being cracked like chestnuts over a fire.

"What'd you do that for?" the ringleader demands (read: whines).

"You need to pick on someone your own size." I snarl.

"And who are you to decide that?" the kid challenges with narrowed eyes.

I just glare at them and clench my jaw.

"Scared, old man?" one of the other kids taunts.

I press my teeth harder.

"Oh, you are scared." the ringleader announces, and then the chicken squawks start.

And, for some unknown reason, that causes me to snap.

I lunge for the ringleader and toss him aside easily, watching briefly as he skids a few feet on the pavement. I then duck the punch a kid throws, catching his arm and twisting it behind him and sweeping his feet out from under him. I just have to send a stormy glare towards kid three to have him running screaming for mommy.

After that little…escapade, I dust off my shirt and jog back towards where I left Tony. I find him standing next to a teenage girl, maybe early teens, wearing a rumpled purple hoodie and looking incredibly tired.

Tony clears his throat. "Taylor, meet your knight in shining armor, Clint Barton, Hawkeye. Clint, meet your damsel in distress, Taylor Stark."

We both glare at him for the knight and princess comments. Something tells me this girl is no princess.

"Stark?"

"Yes." he nods. "Stark. Taylor Stark, my daughter of fourteen years."

I just nod. It's not surprising, honestly; they have the same hair, face shape, stance…

I look towards Taylor to find her sapphire blue eyes – pretty, my subconscious muses – studying me.

So I take the time to do the same.

She's about four and a half feet tall. Her short, clipped chocolate brown hair is slightly mussed, but that's to be expected. Her blue eyes scream intelligence and harbor a twinkle not unlike that of her father's.

We both are snapped out of our musing when Tony clears his throat again, loudly. "Taylor, what happened?"

She sighs and slumps her shoulders as she turns to face Tony. "In class, earlier, I sorta told everyone that one of those kids was wrong, 'cause he was, and then afterward they just came and taunted and I taunted back until they threw the first punch. Before that though, I kinda saw it coming and I called you."

Tony sighs and runs a hand through his hair, but nods anyways. "Comes with being a nerd, sorry."

"Yeah." she drawls. "I'm just your average fourteen year old MIT sophomore."

I blink a little. "Sophomore?"

She shrugs. "198 IQ. Genius."

"Master archer, superior eyesight. Nice to meet you." I tease as I stick out a hand.

She shakes it firmly. "You too."

She and tony begin their way back to the car, but I hang back for a few seconds and watch them. Her, to be specific.

I don't know what, exactly, but something tells me…

Something tells me that girl's gonna be special. Not just to me, but to society and the world as a whole.