I can't process this. It just seems too crazy, and that's coming from a girl with superpowers and a genius, billionaire father. I mean, how did I manage to wind up here—on a plane to Germany to fight the people I've come to call family—alongside the other half of said family and my 'best friend' as his superhero alter ego.

"Buckle up, bug. We're about to touch down." Dad calls from across the aisle of the private jet. I manage a nod as I click my belt back on and resume staring out the window while trying to sort through my jumbled thoughts.

My best friend—and kind of crush—is Spiderman. It's been days since I learned the information and still can't come to terms with it. I mean, I had suspicions ever since we've met. But that doesn't mean I ever really wanted Peter to be the new REM the media dubbed 'Spiderman.' He's one of my best friends; I would never intentionally wish the weight of abilities on him.

Then, there's the fact that Dad decided it was a great idea to recruit him. Don't get me wrong, I love—like, definitely just like—Peter, but he doesn't have much in the way of real combat skills. Why Dad thought giving him a high tech suit—which he had me help develop last minute, would make him prepared for the fight of a lifetime is beyond my comprehension—genius brain in the equation or not.

And, the cherry on top of this messy, metaphorical sundae, all of this is to help apprehend the people who have helped save the world countless times, who trained me, and who made me feel like a part of a real family.

All because of document that limits our abilities to do our duties. It's the same document that threatens my freedom if I so much as breathe in an unapproved manor. It's terrifying that people can change their minds—their opinions so quickly.

Something about it leaves me feeling numb with the fear that keeps an iron grip in my chest. I know Dad is doing everything he can to help this situation and to find some leeway with how we work and operate.

I keep getting this feeling that there's something more. Like there's more to this story than what we're being shown—and not just with Bucky, with everything. It keeps haunting me. Whenever I'm awake—it nags me like a stone in my gut, and when I'm asleep, it's like my subconscious is screaming in a language I can't understand.

"Lia," My dad calls softly, and from the look on his face I can tell this isn't the fist time he's tried to get my attention. "We're here, kiddo. Let's get you settled in so you can try to get some rest. You look exhausted. Sound okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good." I tell him softly and wrap him in a brief hug. "It's gonna be okay. Right?"

He lets out a deep sigh as he returns the comforting gesture. "Yeah, it will be. Because I promise, no matter what, you've got me, kiddo."

It's a small comfort. But I take every ounce of the reassurance his words bring and remind myself that he's Tony Stark—that I'm a Stark. And being a Stark means I can do anything I put my mind to, and that paired with my dad, we can be unstoppable.

"Here's your room. Try to get some rest, bug." My dad whispers as he drops my duffel bag in the room, hands over the keycard, and draws the curtains for me before he leaves with a smile.

I give him a soft smile and promise to be ready when he calls as he quietly leaves. I slip my glasses off, able to take in the details of the room with the minimal light filtering through the curtains. My eyes stop when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

It's one of the rare times I can properly see my reflection. I let out a sigh as my fingers trace the long scar along my left temple. It's my little souvenir from the car accident that came with the broken bones and explosive supernova. Of course, it happened to be the one time my speed healing didn't work and left a scar. I brush my hair back into place to cover it before stripping my jacket and falling onto the bed.

My body sinks into the plush mattress, and the exhaustion from lack of sleep and worry tugs me further down. There are nightmares that make me terrified of falling asleep and just giving into the exhaustion.

I fight against the weight of my eyelids. Of course, Dad and I designed a new prototype to help. It's a modified design of my old watch with the addition of electronic pulses to wake me before any possible supernovas. "ARTI," I whisper when I realize there's no use trying to stay awake, "initiate Tuck-In Protocol."

"Tuck-In Protocol initiated," ARTI replies and signs off with a cheerful and calming, "Sleep well, Lia."

"If only it were that simple." I think to myself as I nuzzle my face into the plush pillows and pray for just one restful sleep. Although, somehow, I doubt I'll be that lucky for quite a while.

"Lia! Please, just listen to me for one second." I want to throw up at the sound of his voice as I walk faster to get away from him."I'm serious, love. Just let me explain."

He clamps a hand on my elbow, which I promptly shove off and stop to glare at him. "Don't touch me. There's absolutely nothing to explain, Henry. I told you; I'm done. For the millionth time, we broke up. End of story."

"No, it's not." My blood runs cold at the flash of anger in his eyes. "I won't let it be."

"Please," I whisper. It's been like this for months, but tonight might just be the moment he breaks and loses me forever. Not that it matters, because either way, I'm not putting up with him for another day. "I'm not changing my mind. You're a bully, and I'm sick of you hurting others—and me."

"I'd never hurt you, love." Henry whispers with teary eyes as he reaches to brush back a piece of my hair, but I quickly take a step back.

"He may not, but I might." Another voice calls out in the dark. It's combined with a strange sensation that freezes every cell in my body. "Pretty girl like you, there's no telling what might happen."

"Lia, get out of here."

"I think she should stay." The man says, feet pounding against the cement as he steps behind me and presses a cold blade against my throat. "You should probably too if you want her to keep breathing."

My breath shakes and trembles in the air as Henry and I are dragged into the alley's mouth and shoved against the wall. "Empty your pockets." The man hisses, and all I can see of him beside the shadows is the blue eyes like ice glistening with malice. Henry and I shakily pull out a couple pounds out of our pockets. "Necklace too, pretty."

I grit my teeth and shake my head. The necklace is one of the few things that I have from my Dad. He gave it to me on my ninth birthday—the first one he knew about me. I haven't taken it off since, and I don't plan on doing it now. "It's plastic. Completely worthless." I lie with a surprising ease.

"Let me be the judge of that. Hand it over."

"We gave you what you want. Just let us go." Henry interjects and steps in front of me. "If we leave now, you won't get caught, but if you hurt us—chances are you will."

Everything starts to tremble around us, like the whole world was set on vibrate. I try to keep my eyes open amidst it all. There's something building in my chest—a pulse of energy that grows with every heartbeat.

My skin glows brighter with a luminance that rivals the moon, and I shake against Henry as it becomes worse. A part of me knows what's coming, but another isn't sure. All I know is that it isn't good.

I wake up with a slight startle and quickly realize my watch sent a pulse. It makes a sad smile cross my face to know that the new protocol works, and it kept me from reliving one of the worst nights of my life. At least that much is nice. I push myself with a sigh and look around for the duffel bag with my suit.

It rests on the plush ivory couch across the room where Dad left it. All I can bring myself to do is stare at it for a long moment and wonder if I'm doing the right thing. None of this seems straightforward anymore, and I find myself agreeing with both sides in different areas. Yet, I'm here to fight and give half of them to people who want nothing more than to see them in jail.

I have to push the thoughts away as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. "A message from Mr. Stark." ARTI calls, which thankfully breaks my train of thought. "He wants you to be ready in five minutes."

"Send confirmation." I mumble and press my fingers to my temple. This whole situation is giving me a resounding headache. Still, I slip on my suit and slide my mask into place. "Now or never."

"Woah, this is so cool." An all too familiar voice echoes through the walls, and I smile despite myself. Of course Dad would get rooms next to each other for simplicity sake, but I didn't actually expect to be next to Peter. "Look at this suit! It's so cool." He cheers, probably doing a video diary like he's gotten me to do too.

Yet, the comment makes me clench my fists to keep from going over there and telling him who did most of the work on the suit. Because while Dad put in the little things and picked out an AI, the main design was one of my sketches. Not to mention, I went back and refined some of the programing and double checked the circuitry by hand. All because I wanted to make sure myself that Peter was safe—or as safe as I could help him be.

But, he can't know. Not that I'm Phantom, or Tony's daughter, or that I'm even here in Germany too. Peter Parker and the rest of the world need to keep thinking that I'm stuck at home in New York with a really bad, highly-contagious flu. Still, it's hard to keep up the lies like this.

I have to tell myself to focus as I listen to Happy knocking next door to retrieve Peter, who seems far too excited for what we're heading into. Then, a moment later, there's a knock on my door, and I zip duffel bag up before heading into the hallway.

Peter's—or should I say Spiderman's—lenses widen in shock at the sight of me. There's a split second where I'm terrified I forgot my mask or something, that maybe he knows who I really am, but I know that's impossible. He's more likely reacting to seeing me—well, Phantom here.

"Alright, let's get going." Happy interrupts with his usual dour disposition.

I follow him without any protests, despite my mind screaming at me with every step and the feeling of Peter's eyes on me the whole way.

"It's rude to stare, Spandex. You do know that, right?" I questions without looking at him as we climb into the car and he is still staring. It takes me a second to process the cold edge to my voice that's apparent even with the voice disguise. I bite my lip underneath the mask and decide to tease him a little bit. "By the way, the suit looks a lot better than the other one. Makes you look like a proper REM, and it doesn't hurt that it shows off your cute butt."

"I—um," he stutters with lenses opened as wide as possible. My view switch to a thermal scan, and I have to bite back a laugh at how warm his face is—which likely means his face is as red as his suit.

"Uh oh, I think I broke him." I call to Happy, who glares at me through the rearview mirror. Peter remains a stuttering mess as I poke him. "C'mon, hot stuff, say something, or you'll get me into trouble." He stays quiet for another long moment, and it sends a shock of fear running through me. "Am I really that terrifying?"

"What?" He quickly shouts, which makes me lean back in my seat at the sudden shift. "No! It's just—you're—and I—what I mean to say is that I think you're really awesome and stuff."

"Me? You think—you think I'm awesome?"

"Well, yeah." He mumbles and scratches the back of his neck, which makes me smile since it's such a trademark Peter action. "I kind of looked you up after we met. It's just that you're like my favorite Avenger, or hero? I'm not sure if you ever became an official Avenger when you came here, but that's not really the point. I'm just saying that I think you're awesome and seem way cooler than what the media tries to make of you. You're just—just awesome."

My lips twitch into a smile beneath the mask. I never knew Peter was a Phantom fan. Especially with my recent breakthrough into American news, I don't have many people who know me or think much of me. Most just think of me as a criminal or vigilante—which isn't much better than the former apparently.

"Says the guy who stopped a bus with his bare hands," I retort and lean back into the leather seats. "Thank you though. I'm pretty sure most people would rather call me villain than hero—much less Avenger, even an unofficial one."

"Are you kidding?" He screeches, voice threatening to crack, which he hastily tries to cover. "No way, you're like the coolest person out there. I mean, yeah you break rules, but you do it to help people."

"What makes you say that?" I ask, because even I don't know if I'm helping or hurting anymore. He tilts his head at me curiously, and I continue, "I just—sometimes I don't feel like I help. There are so many people that keep getting hurt, and I don't know if what I do even makes a difference."

He opens his mouth to say something else but is abruptly stopped when Happy parks the car and tells us to get out. I let Peter—Spiderman out first and take a long moment to myself before following him out and mentally preparing for what is going to happen.

Dad approaches us in the Iron Man suit, sans helmet. "There you two are. I wanted to go over the strategy with you." His eyes move to me and linger for a moment. It's one of those iconic Dad moments where he telepathically reminds me to actually listen to what he's saying or else.

I offer him a mock salute in confirmation, which makes Peter stiffen at my blatant display of snark. "Anyway, the plan is for you two to stay on the sidelines—out of sight—until I call for you. From there, just keep your distance and web—or shadow— them up."

"So—" I sigh and tilt my head back, "—you brought me all the way out here to do nothing? Awesome."

"Not nothing. I just want you to stay out of it until I say so." He glares pointedly at me before turning to Peter. "Underoos, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. Just stay here and wait for the signal. Phantom, you'll stay put until I explicitly tell you otherwise."

I bite my tongue in frustration as he flies off without another word. If he wasn't my dad and I didn't have a possible treason charge for disobeying him lingering over my head, I would probably jump into the fight at the first chance. Instead, I watch from the sidelines hidden behind some stray landing and transport gear as the confrontation begins.

Spidey gives me a long look as I lean back against one of the carts. I don't look back, just stare ahead as I wait for the moment that my dad may let me do what he brought me here to do. "Underoos!" Dad calls, and I watch as Spidey immediately swings into the action.

"Well, if Spandex is up, then so am I." I whisper and watch for the action to start so I can jump in. Because while I may not want this fight to happen at all, it doesn't mean I'm unwilling to finish it.