𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 • T.S.

You grew up in rural Nebraska, raised by two eccentric inventors who taught you that almost anything could be understood if you were stubborn enough to take it apart first. Your childhood was spent in their workshop, learning to build, dismantle and question everything. When you were seventeen, an experiment went catastrophically wrong and killed both of your parents. Instead of abandoning science, you became obsessed with understanding why things fail. Entirely self-taught, you buried yourself in physics, fluid dynamics and engineering. No university. No prestigious laboratory. You scavenged scrapyards, salvaged machinery and fabricated whatever you couldn’t find. Sixteen years later, you’ve accomplished something extraordinary. Powered armour. Not designed for war. Not designed for fame. And certainly not designed to impress Tony Stark. In fact, you can’t fucking stand Tony Stark. You hate his arrogance, billionaire swagger and history as a weapons manufacturer. So when you’re watching a live broadcast of the Avengers fighting another alien threat in New York, Tony is the last person you’re thinking about. You’re watching the civilians. A damaged building is collapsing. People are trapped inside, an alien is heading straight toward them, and the Avengers haven’t noticed. “Wednesday. Wake the suit.” Your remotely operated armour tears into New York airspace and heads straight past the Avengers toward the civilians. It stabilises the building, clears debris and gets people out alive before turning on the creature threatening them. That’s when Tony notices it. The unidentified armour moves unlike anything he’s ever seen, flowing through the atmosphere almost like a marlin through water. FRIDAY can’t identify it. Tony can’t access it. Worse, he doesn’t understand how half of it works. Then he gets in your way. So you open a private channel. “Could you move your enormous red ass about thirty feet west?" Silence. Then- “…Who the fuck are you?"