Being a Banner [ 1 of JA ]

57

The quinjet was a small but somewhat-roomy jet that Dad and I were being transferred in. It rocked and bumped, and I held on for dear life on a bar above my head. My uncle likes SHIELD, only when they're not bugging him, as Coulson has put it. We land on the top of his tower. The backdoor opens and I look to Phil.
      "Until we meet again, Banners," Phil says. I walk down, half hanging onto Dad. Once I touch the concrete of the helicopter pad, Dad and I bolt to the backdoor. We walk down a hallway to an elevator.
Dad and I step in and right away he presses the top floor. It was quiet between us, but I'm sure it also had to do with being woken up so early.
I look like a mess and still in the clothes SHIELD gave me. Luckily, I showered this morning to feel fresh, but it didn't settle. They gave me a duffel with the clothes I had and more of theirs like what I had on, but I didn't want to see anymore SHIELD logos.
      "You know, we lived here when you were three," Dad says out of the blue. I look to him, not sure if that's true.
"Really?" I ask, my brain scanning for memories of when I felt a sense of home here.
"Oh yeah, lived here for. . .probably three and a half years. We left when you were five." Dad explains. Why did you ever make the decision to leave?
I could imagine a good life here, living with my uncle, his wife and my cousin. We'd have so much fun, and though my uncle was my godfather and I was his only niece, he loved me so much. He would make sure Dad was home at a good time; I could see my uncle dragging Dad back from the lab. He would be the one to do that.
When the elevators open I was hit with nostalgia. Some things were different, but the walls, scenery and sense of safety came back. I eagerly step out, looking around and out the large and many win-dows. I could see all of New York from the balcony if I wanted to.
"Sorry," I hear from the hall to my left. "No street rats allowed,"
      I smile big, and secretly sigh in relief, dropping the duffel bag and running to hug my uncle.
      "Tony!" I hug him tightly, as he does the same for me.
      "I've missed you!" Tony exclaims. "How are you?"
      "Good, better now that I'm here,"
"Bruce!" Tony exclaims as we end our hug so he can hug Dad.
"Hello Dr. Banner, hello Kerry," I look up at the ceiling.
"Hey Jarvis," I smile.
When I was little my cousin and I would ask Jarvis silly questions, and when we were even younger we thought Jarvis was an invisible man, so we spend hours trying to find him.
"Hey, Tony, where's Howie?"
Tony claps his hands with a smile. "He's flying around. . .somewhere, don't know. . .exactly where,"
"Sir, Howard is—"
"Right here Jarvis," I hear a voice interrupt over the house speakers.
I smile as I turn to Tony's balcony and see an iron suit land on a pad just for it. A machine emerges from the floor up and as the suit walks, robotic mechanics take off each part of the armor. Finally, the face mask is taken off, and I see the boy with black spiked hair, brown eyes, and the brightest smile anyone could ever have. When he actually enters the tower, I immediately approach him.
"Well, well, well, look who came back," he smirks. I laugh and run up to hug my cousin, who had no blood relation to me and was actually my god-brother.
      I look down as we pull apart to kick at the iron boot that covers his left foot, that matches his iron suit.
"Don't ask me to play soccer, I'm still recovering from that bruise you gave me when I was six,"
"That was all your fault, by the way," Howie retorts. He had a club foot, which meant his foot was pointed grotesquely inward instead of how a normal foot should look. The rest of the brace ran up underneath his jeans, hooking around his waist. it wasn't like any other real braces for his condition, but Tony made one specifically for how severe Howie's was.
      "Bruce!" Howie exclaims, approaching Dad.
      "How's the foot?" Dad asks.
      "Still screwed," Howie shrugs. "But it's alright," He gives Dad a hug.
      "Was it fine throughout college?" Dad asks.
      Howie nods, "Yeah. Everyone thought it was cool. Plus, who'd make fun of a kid who can't walk?"
      Howie is sixteen and has already made his way through college. I don't get envious, but boy, did he make me mad. Howie is a child genius, which is a genetic trait in the Stark family. For the Banner's, not so much.
      "Howie," Tony looks to his son. "Go show Kerry her room, and how much Pepper changed it,"
      "She didn't make it into her own yoga studio, did she?" I jokingly ask.
      Tony shakes his head, "Just ignore the rolled up mats in a corner, candles and the sounds of a flowing river,"
      I roll my eyes with a smile as I pick up my duffel and follow Howie to my room. After a series of familiar hall-ways, Howie stops at one wooden door.
      "I think you'll like it," he smiles. "Pepper's missed you dearly. You're like a daughter to her, you know?"
      I smile and nod, "She's like a mom to me,"
      Howie smiles as he opens the door and lets me in to see the renovations. I step in and take a look around the room.
The walls were a light green, almost pastel. It was pretty, but green was a color I was seeing too much of. The bed was still big and a king size, but the sheets were white with cute decorative pillows. There was a window with white curtains that sat adjacent to my closet. Pictures of myself as a toddler, pictures with Howie and I, Dad, Tony and I fill the walls.
There were also some blocks of wood that were painted white on an ivory dresser with inspirational quotes and cute girly sayings such as, 'Girl Power!' in cursive.
"Pepper really wants a daughter," I smile at Howie.
"Guess I wasn't good enough for her," He jokingly shrugs.