The Power of Intellect

The Disconnect

"I'm never gonna get it." I huffed into my palm.

"Hey, no don't say that," Peter said as he handed me a bottle of water and took a seat next to me. We were both covered in sweat from training but I was the only one covered in bruises. I didn't land a single hit on him. "Don't beat yourself up y/n, some people just aren't naturals at fighting."

Yeah, but I should be. I mean for goodness sake my uncle was the Tony Stark.

My father and uncle both had a bright future planned for me. That was until my father's downfall. The power he possessed got to his head, and the Stark family god complex didn't help either. I was too young to remember much about him but I do remember his smile. I treasure it.

He was too curious, too engulfed in finding new information that he wasn't careful. That curiosity killed him. And yet something tells me that he would have done it over again if he had the chance. That's what I love about him, even if he is gone now. His last experiment, the one that took his life, was a failure... I scoffed, just like me.

No, no, that was a bit extreme. I shouldn't call myself a failure. I know four languages thanks to Aunt Natasha. I'm exceptional in mathematics and science, thanks to Mr. Stark. Not to mention I have a wide variety of historical knowledge thanks to uncle Steve, he was a bit obsessed with World War II (for good reason) so I know a bit too much about that. Then, with growing up without any kids your age, I had a ridiculous amount of time on my hands that I filled with classic literature ranging from everything from Homer to Oscar Wilde.

So no, I wouldn't go as far as to say I was a failure, but fighting and I just did not agree. I did my best work behind a computer, or in front of a machine, not in front of another person.

"Yeah, natural my ass. You seem to be one." I muttered back to Peter.

He chuckled a bit. "No..." he started with a laugh on his lips. "I'm a nerd. I had to learn too."

He handed me a clean towel to wipe away my sweat. Sure, I know he had to learn too but he learned fast. Too fast. He was still only 17 and he had saved the world on multiple occasions. I was only a couple of months younger than him, and within the short time that he had been an Avenger, Peter and I became really good friends. I grew up around the Avengers, they were family to me even if they didn't like Mr. Stark all of the time. But when Peter came, I finally found someone my own age to talk to.

That was partly because I never went to school. Mr. Stark handled my education privately; he didn't trust that some of my father's old "friends" wouldn't pay me a visit. So I grew up with adults, my favorites were Happy and Aunt Natasha. She was my favorite avenger which Mr. Stark couldn't believe but what can I say, a kickass mortal woman holding her own in a group of guys with superpowers was a pretty cool role model.

I suppose it was also pretty cool having the literal God of Thunder at my sweet 16 too. Let's just say I'm not complaining about my upbringing at all, just appreciating the fact that I finally found someone my age to befriend. Aunt Natasha wanted to start my physical training earlier but my mother forbade it until I turned 16, she wanted me to have a "normal childhood."

Yeah like that was possible, especially when she refused to see me out of fear of coming out of hiding... mother of the year am I right? I couldn't quite blame her. My father didn't have many fans, and after his last experiment failed a lot of people lost a lot of money.

Either way, I've been sparring with Peter for 9 months and I'm still no good. Something always feels off, like I have more to give but I just... can't. There's this disconnect. I understand everything else easily but fighting just doesn't make sense to me.