Disclaimer : I do not own the Avengers, sadly not even one of them. This fan fiction is based heavily upon the cartoon series 'Avengers-Earth's Mightiest Heroes', but also uses the line up in the film, so a bit of a cross between I guess (although I haven't seen the film at this point in time). The events in this story may not follow the storyline set in 'Avengers-EMHs' (again I haven't watched all of the episodes yet), so please read on, and I hope you enjoy!

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

'Somebody turn that thing off!'

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

'What is that damn noise? An alarm clock or something?'

Natasha Romanoff kept her eyes closed tight, clinging onto the brink of sleep, as she flung her arms around wildly, frantically searching for the source of the increasing noise. Except she would have, if she could move her arms. A sensation similar to a hitting a brick wall exploded in her forearms, travelling up to her shoulders. Snapping her eyes open as she was thrown backwards by the momentum of whatever it was she had impacted against, Natasha squinted against the eye-watering brightness that met her pupils. Forcing her eyes to remain open she continued to squint whilst attempting to mover her arms again, this time with less brute force. And again she was unsuccessful.

'Keep calm. There's no point in panicking yet. Just focus on adjusting your eyes for now'.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply she concentrated on sharpening her vision, and slowly but surely the world around her was beginning to form into detail. It occurred to her that this process was taking a lot longer than it should have for a person as highly skilled at adapting to any situation like herself, but she pushed this thought away as quickly as it had arrived, desperate to stifle anything that could cause anxiety and send her into hazy vision again. Deciding that struggling to use her arms was futile for the time being, Natasha revolved her head from side to side, soaking in her ever-clearer surroundings. There was a lot of grey. The walls, the furniture, all colour coordinated in the drab colour. As the sharpness in her sight regained, she noted that the table beside her was made of what she presumed to be steel. Turning her head to look above her, she frowned, drawing her eyes to a squint once more. There was a bright overhead light, facing directly down on her head, the kind that are favoured by dentists, or torturers. Again she instantly pressed that last thought away for the time being, after all it wasn't exactly like she was a novice at torture, from either side. As she cleared her mind, she noticed that the annoying beeping sound was also slowing, now reaching a much less irritating pace. Suddenly whatever she was lying on began bend, just above her lower back, forcing the top half of her body to rise towards the light, until she was almost in a sitting position. Wincing at the new change of light, implored her eyes to re-adjust, but once again her keen senses seemed to be lagging. Dropping her head in an attempt to aid her sight along, it was then that she noticed what her arms had connected with. Several thick black straps held her down, pressing down against her not only across her arms, but all the way down to her shins. A quiet movement stole her attention, and her head whipped up, almost butting the light in the process. Although she could still not properly focus, she made out a figure in the dark of the room, noting the basic details from what she could register.

'Average height. Male, slight build…'

Her mental note-taking was interrupted by a voice, which presumably belonged to the figure,

"Ahh Natasha, nice of you to join the world of the living again".

Though the voice was heavily laden with acidic sarcasm, Natasha immediately identified the speaker.

"Bruce?"

Fighting the instinct to add more questions about her current predicament, she bit her tongue, instead trusting her knowledge about her present companion. Just as she had silently predicted to herself, Bruce Banner stepped slowly towards her, clearly savouring having the upper hand over her, until he had fully emerged into the light. He was dressed in a white lab coat, tatty cheap clothes underneath, after all who bothers buying expensive clothes that could be ripped to shreds at any given moment? To begin with Natasha observed him as holding his usual reserved expression, but as her eyes drew into focus on his face, she noticed the tensing of his jaw as it clenched and unclenched; the vein in his right temple protruding ever so slightly, his nostrils flaring subtly. All clues that would have remained unnoticed by the untrained eye, except for the green hue which had now began flooding into his brown eyes.

'Great. He's mad'.

Bruce closed his eyes, taking a breath, and no doubt a moment to compose himself. When he reopened them he aimed an icy glare at Natasha, but she noticed with relief, that the green had mostly disappeared from, now reduced to minute emerald flecks amongst the brown. Whilst normally she could hold her own against The Hulk, strapped down at her most vulnerable was not a time that she wished to encounter him.

"We're in the Avenger's mansion I presume…"

It was more of a statement than a question, but Bruce answered nonetheless,

"Correct as always Natasha."

The disdain was clear in his voice, as though talking was causing venom to seep from his tongue. She noticed how riled even saying a few words to her was causing him to become, and wondered exactly what it was she had done that had landed her into this situation. Racking her brains for an answer, a searing pain shot through her skull, and biting her lip, she withheld a cry of pain. Forcing her eyes open again, in order to keep up the pretence, she had once again lost focus in her sight.

'What the hell is going on with me?'

She had meant for the question to be spoken, but instead it resounded inside her head, as it seemed momentarily impossible for her to move her mouth into forming words. Something was very wrong here, she was not on form, and this was a time she definitely needed to be at the top of the game.

'Snap out of it. Stop being so pathetic.'

Mentally scolding herself seemed to break her out of her hazy trance. Screwing up her face in concentration she forced the words out, the amount of effort she was using, she had expected her voice to form a yell or scream, but instead it remained placid and calm,

"Let me go."

Bruce, who had turned with his back to her by now, twisted his head, peering over his shoulder and starting at her incredulously. He dropped his hand, and a magnified banging sound pierced her ears, causing her to fight the instinctual reaction to wince and show pain. Bruce was now stalking towards her, and though she couldn't work out what it was, she was sure there was something else mixed in with his obvious anger. Fighting for her eyes to work properly, a moment of clarity appeared, he was inches in front of her face now, and she was sure she could see the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. She had never seen Bruce Banner like this, sure, The Hulk she had seen tear apart buildings and roar in enemies' faces before pounding them to a pulp; but Bruce was always so in control of his emotions, careful to protect those around him, even if he was seething with rage. Now, the combination of anger and amusement presented the scientist in a what she could only find to be a manic way.

'Crap. He's lost his mind'.

"What did you just say?"

The sides of his lips continued to upturn as he asked her to repeat her statement. He had clearly heard, and the obscenity of her ordering him around had not failed to humour him. She moved her eyes to look at his now, and noticed the increasing green hue. He was definitely still fuming, but she decided to carry on anyway, after all, it didn't seem that her current situation could get much worse.

"Let me go Bruce." She gritted her teeth as she spoke, the pain once again flaring through her temples, "You're not doing anyone any favours keeping me here, least of all yourself. Untie me, and I'll leave straight away. Quietly."

Bruce's face now held a bemused expression, but the slight mania was still there. Pausing for only a second, he eyed her curiously, before a deep bellowing laugh exploded from him, his entire body shaking. Natasha felt as though her head was being ripped apart by the sound, and her hands automatically faced to cover her ears, but once again being stopped by the restraints. Her eyes widened at the searing pain, now not only in her head but also racing down her forearms now, and a small grunt of pain escaped her lips. She was unsure whether her involuntary struggling had created any noise, or whether it was purely her grunt, but Bruce snapped out of his crazed state. Taking a deep, calming breath he looked down at her again,

"You're not going anywhere Natasha. We've been waiting for some time to get some answers from you, some of us more than others….so if you think I'm letting you leave her, you must be out of you mind."

'Yeah, right. I'm the one that's crazy here!'

The words silently echoed in her mind, she had resigned to only speaking when desperately needing to, as the forming of words was presenting increasing pain, and difficulty. She threw an icy glare up at him, or at least she tried to. She was struggling to control her sight even more so now. Bruce chose her silence as a prompt to continue,

"As for not doing anyone any favours, I'm pretty sure you have an old acquaintance that would strongly disagree with that."

'Oh god'.

Her fingers began fumbling frantically with the restraints, feeling blindly for a way to prise herself free. Her vision was gaining and fading rapidly now, switching from detailed focus to blurry edged, the later of which she noticed seemed to increase each time.

"There's really no point struggling, there's no one who'll rescue you."

"I don't' need anyone to rescue me," the words presented another searing pain the blackened her vision temporarily but she would never lay in silence pretending to be a damsel in distress, even if she was in a lot of distress right now.

"Oh I don't underestimate you Natasha," she had lost all focus to her vision now, and relying heavily on her failing hearing she was sure she could detect humour again in his voice, "and you shouldn't underestimate me."

'He's drugged me! The bastard!'

The sudden realisation hit her at the same time as darkness completely engulfed her senses.