BLACK WIDOW IS/ARE THE PROPERTY OF MARVEL INC. AND THEIR RESPECTIVE AFFILIATES. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THE STORY IS MY OWN, BUT BLACK WIDOW AND THE WINTER SOLDIER ARE NOT.
The following piece is rated M for Mature. It contains violence and mild language.
This story takes place after the events of Fear Itself 7.1: Captain America. Be advised, the series will contain violence, sex scenes (entirely consensual) and mild language.
With a nervous hand, Natasha, otherwise known as the Black Widow, brushed a loose strand of red hair from her eyes. Curling the strand behind her ear and beneath the tattered brown hood she wore, she returned her eyesight to the mechanism before her. She was on one knee in close proximity to a large safe-like door. No amount of direct physical or kinetic force was going to break down this particular door; it required a hand of precise touch and delicate fashion.
Having analysed the computer module to the side of the door, Natasha concluded that this was no ordinary break-in. Instead of a mere retinal and print scan, this particular piece required a DNA sample – namely, a prick into the thumb to test blood.
Well, this was Saudi Arabia. Businessmen did not take security lightly.
Stepping back slowly with complete awareness of her surroundings, Natasha turned her head and glanced at the security camera placements hidden within the two lynx statues behind her. She had three minutes before the electro-magnetic pulse generated by her bracelets would wear off.
There was a specific plan here. The Black Widow was never one to be nervous during a mission. She loved a challenge; the thrill of it was the coup de grace. The reason for her nerves was that she was to deliberately trigger the security mechanisms – but she had to do it at a specific time through a specific channel. Not only that, but her second objective was to tag the inhabitant of the safe so that she could trace its whereabouts.
This wasn’t a snatch-and-grab mission. This was a live-bait mission. She needed to know who would be first on scene, what calls would be alerted and finally, where the artefact would be moved.
You have an affinity for overly complex plans, James. She thought to herself as she reached her right hand behind her, pushing the cloak that she wore over her ‘spy-suit’ out of the way. Reaching into her belt, she retrieved one singular black glove. This was no ordinary glove, but it was a piece of highly advanced technology she ‘poached’ from Tony Stark’s private collection. Wasting little time, she placed the glove on her left hand and then outstretched it.
“Clearance 2-1-6 Virginia Resilient Potts – code viable until 16:47 November 24th.” She recounted the code that, well, wasn’t exactly hers. One disadvantage Tony had was that he made things too simple for Pepper and her ‘Rescue’ persona. A simple recounting of exact words and a date when the code would be changed was all it took to activate this extremely advanced tech.
The palm of the glove lit up in a neon blue light and created a virtual screen in front of her. The screen detailed a perfect ensemble of the location she was in, with details on ownership and supposed dealings occurring at such an establishment. Natasha’s focus was on the security details. The blue neon light reflected over her hooded face, her green eyes illuminating with an impressed gaze. Stark certainly kept an eye on this part of the world.
“Security channels. Specific interest – Nayam Al-Saleem, Lynx Palace.” The illumination responded immediately, bringing a portrait of the man to the screen, before switching to a picture of the very palace she was in. A new screen followed, displaying multiple tunnels of interest, but these were not physical tunnels; these were digital channels. There were four ‘tunnels’; each one led to a different entry point within the original security code of the Lynx Palace. Her objective was to hack into one of these tunnels, and then leave a foreign program within the tunnel so that she could have complete access to the database whenever it was accessed.
In short, if her target, or any of his associates, accessed the security mainframe, she would see what they would see.
Natasha gazed upon the code as if it was simple English language. Lifting her right hand up, she quickly traced the image, flicking through the diagrams of the tunnels as simply as a patron would use their cell-phone. “Display camera information – safe room.” A window appeared, displaying the current situation of the cameras within the safe room; she had two minutes left until she had to deliberately set off the alarm. Returning to her coded infiltration, her green eyes descended upon her target; tunnel number 3.
“Run program ‘ballerina’ – input into tunnel number 3.” The technology responded, which caused a sly smirk to creep upon Natasha’s face. The irony of using a name reminiscent of her past would hardly go unnoticed by Al-Saleem, or whatever alias the real man was going by. Satisfied with her handiwork, Natasha closed the virtual screen and removed the glove from her hand before returning it to her belt.
While not one to believe in luck, she certainly did not mind her timing.
Just as the program closed, the sound of a knife leaving a sheath echoed across the stone walls of the room. With trained ears and even more adept instincts, Natasha hit the floor with insane reactions. Whizzing over her head were two predatory throwing knives, which bounced harmlessly off the safe door.
As Natasha rolled, her hands moved to the base of her spine and retrieved her two Walther P99 Suppressed handguns. Recoiling to her knees, she immediately brought them up to face the centre of the lynx statues, where the knives most likely would have come from. With itchy fingers, she almost fired immediately, but there was no target in sight.
Either this was some kind of Indiana Jones ‘knife-within-the-walls’ trap, or her foe(s?) was a meta-human.
How many of them? There were no logs of mercenaries.
Face covered by the shadow of her hood, she eyed the entire room, but found no sign of life. Standing to her feet very cautiously, she took ginger steps towards the lynx statues. A minute and twenty seconds until time was up.
Spinning around quickly to face the eastern wall, she fired at the pillar-construct as a shadow moved behind it. Her hands wobbling from the recoil of firing a gun in each single hand as silent but lethal pellets penetrated the stone of the pillars, bullets not finding a flesh mark.
In retaliation, a second shadow appeared behind her, a gleam of silver reflected in the artificial light as Natasha’s guns were knocked from her hand by a blade. Thanks to her reflexes, it was only her firearms that skidded across the floor; not her hands. Natasha quickly pivoted, sending her left foot around with trained efficiency, but it connected with the assailant’s armoured shin. The assailant stepped back to absorb the momentum before charging forward again with the blade, a swift vertical strike that Natasha sidestepped quickly. The second assailant joined the fray, a blade in his hand as he leapt with a horizontal strike. Natasha had predicted there were only two and she bent backwards with astonishing flexibility, her hands planting on the ground as she flipped her body around, it curled just as the blade passed, following it through the air.
I’m yet to even see what they look like; they are moving as fast as Elektra does. I need space between us.
Continuing her flipping motion for two more cycles, Natasha planted her feet on the ground and vaulted off the ground in a slower flip motion. As she did so, she brought her arms up and aimed her Widow’s Bite between the statues. The bolts of electricity surged through the air, but both shadows side-flipped the attacks.
Catching her sense of balance for a split-second after her flips, Natasha’s hooded gaze locked onto another gleam of steel, this time smaller. Gasping in surprise, she wrenched her head back as another knife bounced off the safe door; this one catching a piece of her brown hood. Ripping the fabric from the left side of her face, Natasha had little time to react as the two shadows converged on her. Moving in almost pure synchronization, the two figures appeared in front of her and slashed horizontally, their blades acting like a guillotine. Natasha kicked off the safe door and slid on her knees, her back arching backwards fully as her hood dragged along the ground as she slid gracefully beneath the swords.
Spinning around, she vaulted to her feet, retrieving her combat knife from her right ankle as she did so. She was given a second to glance at her assailants. They were dressed in black Arabian robes with gleaming sabres. Their forearms and shins covered by a variation of vibranium mesh, their chests covered with mere leather padding; most likely for speed and flexibility Natasha concluded.
What made her nervous was that she couldn’t see their eyes. Both faces were completely covered by their head-robes, no skin was visible.
Cyborgs? Not likely. The way they are moving … it’s familiar.
A minute left. Too much time.
The assailant on her left moved first, a single vertical slice from a jumping slash. Natasha turned her body sideways to avoid the slash, as a horizontal slash from the second fighter came behind her. Bringing up her knife, she deflected the blow, before pivoting her right foot backwards, catching the fighters leg behind her. Pushing his leg out, she freed her knife from his sabre and caught him with an elbow to his sword shoulder as his body descended from losing footing.
She felt muscle and was certain now that they were not cyborgs.
The shock of the elbow caused the fighter to drop his sabre, but Natasha couldn’t capitalise as the first fighter was already on the offensive again. He aimed lower this time, aiming for Natasha’s legs. Natasha leant backwards on the bent over fighter and vaulted her legs up with agility, catching the assailant’s head between her limbs. With expert agility and a subtle grunt of exertion, she whipped her entire body around and tossed the fighter to the ground.
This move worked on normal opponents, but apparently these fighters weren’t normal. The fighter hit the ground on his spine but immediately nipped up, the damage very little to his frame. With frightening speed, he tossed his remaining knife at Natasha, who had just regained her center of balance. The blade hissed through the air and caught the base of her hood, shredding the material and a strand of her flourishing red hair. The blade whizzed past her ear as the detached hair fell like a feather onto her shoulders.
That’s impossible. Even the Red Room girls were not that fast.
In her state of shock, she stumbled and forgot about the second fighter behind her, a recently retrieved sabre soared through the air horizontally, catching Natasha’s abdomen as she futilely attempted to dodge.
With a cry of pain, the blade pierced a portion of her flesh, travelling directly through her espionage suit. Her blood splattered on the floor as she dropped the combat knife in her hands.
To hell with the plan. If I stay here any longer, these two abominations will cut me to pieces. James, you damn well better have a contingency plan prepared.
Wasting little time and ignoring the pain, having experienced far worse in her life, Natasha back flipped once again, but as she did so, her hands reached to the tops of her shoulder blades were two more handguns were holstered. These were not silenced, but Natasha had no other choice.
Forty seconds too early. ‘Ballerina’ is still in effect, however. This will not be pretty, but improvisation rarely is.
With a sneer, she aimed both handguns at the shadows and fired rapidly. Both figures, with great agility, retreated to respective pillars for cover as Natasha kept them at bay with suppressive fire.
With rapid haste, she holstered the guns and reached into her belt, retrieving two miniature disc detonators. Throwing the discs to the ground, they flashed with red lights. The assailants prepared to move once the gunfire ceased, but halted at the sight of the discs.
This would be their downfall as they stared directly into a flash detonation designed to severely disorient any human person. One disc detonated, whilst the other released a thick column of smoke that steadily filled the room.
“Ballerina trace activation code – ‘Premiere’.” She recounted the code whilst the smoke filled the room. Immediately the entire room illuminated with bright lights as an alarm blared and the security systems activated.
The Black Widow disappeared from the room, leaving the two shadow assailants to reassemble the status of their ears from the concussion detonation. Using her makeshift entrance, she quickly ascended the halls of the Lynx Palace and moved to her motorcycle waiting across the street.
First things first – return to safe-house and find out who the hell those mercenaries were. Secondly, trace Ballerina to find out who was contacted and trace the call. Thirdly, firmly remind James the importance of strategic background checks; he’s gotten soft whilst carrying that shield.
-------- (Ten minutes later)
The two assailants remained inside the safe room, each standing motionless against the lynx statues. In the center of the room was a single man, dressed in a white forensic coat. He displayed no badge, but was freelance. Kneeling down over a stain of red on the floor, his advanced technology sampling the blood that was spilled, he smirked as results were displayed.
Another figure entered the room, the assailants nodding in respect as he did so. His hands were crossed behind his back, pressed against his ivory suit. A long mane of hair was tied in a bulb behind his head, his face covered by thick stubble. His eyes, covered by sunglasses, glanced at the remains of the room where the skirmish took place.
The forensic scientist handed the results of the blood test to the larger man, his response being a satisfied nod.
“100% match – The Black Widow aka Natasha Romanova. I couldn’t be more pleased, we have old scores to settle. Her and the Winter Soldier.”
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