I wasn’t a typical fifteen-year-old. Far from it. I completed university by eleven, and my abilities manifested at thirteen. My father is Tony Stark, and my mother was a neurologist in Mexico. She died giving birth to me. She’d designated my father as the attending physician, then vanished. + 

Is it difficult to discuss? Not particularly. I never knew her. I was told I resembled her, at least initially. That was before everything changed—and I’m about to explain how. + 

School was… unconventional. Essentially, I was homeschooled. Father arranged for instructors to come to the compound. By six, I’d finished high school. A shock, I know. The advantage of being a prodigy, I suppose. It was effortless, a breeze. Then came the IQ tests. A score of 310. The reactions were predictable. I don't blame them. + 

As if being raised by Tony Stark wasn’t peculiar enough, disaster struck. I was assisting Father in the lab when something went wrong. The precise cause remains uncertain, but the aftermath was undeniable. I was irrevocably altered. + 

I was born blonde, with blue eyes, and painfully thin. But whatever radiation I was exposed to reshaped me. I grew taller, more muscular. My eyes heterochromatically split—one blue, one brown—and my hair turned black. And then the powers surfaced. Telekinesis, telepathy, teleportation. I’m still discovering new abilities daily. + 

With Father’s assistance, and that of several former Avengers, I gained control over my powers, more or less. I can regulate most of them, though I haven’t managed to suppress the involuntary telepathy. I can’t seem to unlearn the habit of reading minds. + 

Until two months ago, Father and Steve Rogers were at odds. That’s where our story begins. The fight itself wasn’t the issue—it was the *why* of it, and the realization that my existence was inextricably linked to their conflict. It wasn't simply a disagreement between two heroes; it was a fracture along a fault line, and I was standing right on top of it. + 