[ 𝟏 ] 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 | 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

𝟏𝟎.

I descended a brightly lit staircase leading to the lockers and equipment, accompanied by Clint, Wanda, and Pietro. It was the same corridor Natasha had guided me through before the Salvage Yard mission—the inaugural instance I had been enlisted to join the Avengers in their confrontation against Ultron. Although that day seemed distant, the reality was that it had transpired not too long ago. Much had evolved since then; my comfort level with the Avengers had grown, with Clint assuming the role of a paternal figure. Pietro and Wanda had recently aligned themselves with our cause, and while forgiveness for their past actions was pending, their contributions to the team were undeniable.

These transformations were positive, yet a haunting concern persisted—Natasha.

The uncertainty of her safety weighed heavily on me. I hesitated to contemplate the possibility of her demise. It was unclear if she was still alive despite having recently formed a connection with her. She had become a confounding figure to decipher, but her demeanor towards me was discernible softening. An unspoken understanding had developed, revealing a deeper connection between us that I had only just recognized. I yearned to share this revelation with her, to explore if she felt the same way. Yet, the looming specter of Ultron's capture of Natasha constantly reminded us, plunging us into the abyss of the unknown.

I couldn't even begin to comprehend what Clint must have been going through. Although I had known Natasha briefly, the uncertainty of her safety was gnawing at me. Their friendship, spanning such a long time, was the kind I had yearned for as a child and still desire now. How was he managing to hold it together so admirably at this moment?

Our steps stopped upon reaching the final room in the hallway—the room housing essential equipment. It was the same room where I had been introduced before my inaugural mission. Unmarked for any specific person, it served as a space to gather extra gear, ideal for myself and the twins.

Stepping into the room, I glanced back at the twins following me. "There should be some clothes here that hopefully won't cramp your style," I said with a grin. Pietro huffed and rolled his eyes while Wanda responded with a gentle smile, evidently grateful for the prospect of clean clothing. "My stuff should be around here somewhere," I muttered, opening the familiar cabinet.

"Actually," Clint's voice reached me from the doorway, "your belongings were temporarily relocated to my room." He offered a warm smile, gesturing for me to follow.

I followed him into the adjacent room, immediately greeted by an array of arrows neatly arranged in pockets on the wall. His customary suit was showcased behind a glass cabinet, dramatically illuminated by the light—a touch of Tony's ingenuity.

"It's in the drawer in the corner," he mentioned, opening the glass cabinet to retrieve his suit.

"Alright, thanks," I replied, going to the appointed drawer.

I slid it open, anticipating the familiar attire from the last mission, only to be pleasantly surprised by an upgraded suit and equipment. My hand instinctively covered my lips as my eyes sparkled with excitement. Before me lay a black leather tank top embellished with a metallic Stark logo on the left side of my chest. Attached to the tank top were black military-grade pants. Adjacent to the outfit were black gun holsters housing pistols, black boots with pink laces, a black tactical belt adorned with a few grenades, black electric brass knuckles, and a black holster affixed to my arm housing a knife. Lastly, my watch was neatly placed amidst the ensemble. I noticed subtle shades of pink embedded within the tank top and pants, serving as a delicate undertone.

My eyes welled up as I glanced back at Clint, who smiled knowingly. The initial outfit and equipment had already filled me with happiness and gratitude. The revelation of a personalized suit and weapons caught me off guard. A pang of guilt struck me for having aimed my gun at Tony. He had been exceptionally generous with my watch, and discovering that he had invested time in crafting additional customized gear left me momentarily speechless.

"I..." I began to say.

"I'll change in Nat's room so you can try it on," Clint interjected, already making his way to the door. "I'm excited to see it!" His voice echoed through the hallway.

Taking a deep breath, I refocused on the drawer. Thanks to my newfound proficiency in changing swiftly, I only took a few minutes to don everything. While I had become adept at donning regular clothing, incorporating weapons added an extra layer of complexity. Nevertheless, I managed it in a decent time.

I strolled to the mirror, securing my hair into a tight ponytail. I absorbed my transformed appearance, allowing my arms to fall to my sides. While the outfit might have seemed relatively ordinary on paper, the intricate details and craftsmanship astounded me. The fabrics used were both beautiful, possessing a bulletproof and sleek quality—a flawless fit that accentuated my form.

In that moment, I felt like a hero—an Avenger.

Wiping away a few stray tears from my cheeks, I returned to the drawer to close it and make my way to the jet. However, as I neared, I spotted a small note at the bottom. Internally, I questioned why I hadn't noticed it when I retrieved all my clothing and equipment, but then I recalled how engrossed I had been in the captivating pink detailing on my suit. Despite having enhanced vocals, my attention span was severely lacking.

Picking up the small note, I turned it over to reveal somewhat scribbly handwriting. The note read:

"Stella,

You've proven to be an invaluable asset to the team amid this Ultron chaos. Looking back, I can't help but think it might have been a good idea for you to soar to the top of our tower a few years ago when aliens attacked New York... On second thought, scratch that. That was pretty horrendous. I wouldn't want to subject you to that...haha.

The Avengers aren't known for their immediate trust. We've weathered countless trials, both individually and as a team. Yet, something about you endeared you to all of us, even if some won't openly admit it—your spirit and your heart. After enduring years of pain inflicted by others, most people would emerge resentful of humanity, and I wouldn't blame them. But not you. You lent your heart and spirit to the team, aiding innocent civilians when we needed you most. You bravely faced the risks of battling Ultron, recognizing the imminent threat to the world.

Without a doubt, you possess the heart and spirit of an Avenger.

I had Tony assemble an official suit for you to wear in future missions. It's designed to shield you from all the challenges the world throws our way. I've also included some weapons that you'll wield with expertise.

You've shown that you're so much more than what HYDRA tried to mold you into. And more importantly, you've demonstrated that you have what it takes to be an integral member of our team.

Welcome to the Avengers.

- Clint"

My hands trembled as tears welled up in my eyes. I turned to rush to Clint's room to express my gratitude, but he was already at the door, wearing a smile. Hastily, I ran to him, giving him a warm and thankful hug. I cried into his arms as he rubbed my back. For the first time in years, I felt a profound sense of acceptance. I was truly accepted. A burden lifted off my shoulders as I realized that doubt was no longer a part of the equation. The words "Welcome to the Avengers" echoed in my mind. This group of vigilantes had transformed from mere friends into my chosen family.

Looking up at Clint, my eyes blurry with tears, I managed to say, "Thank you. For everything."

We held onto the hug for a moment longer, and a part of my inner child felt a healing sensation. He gave me one final tight squeeze before pulling away, his hands gently grasping my shoulders. "Let's go kick Ultron's ass," he smirked.

I grinned, drying my face with my wrist. "I'm ready."