THE DEVIL'S DAUGHTER

The first time Natasha met Logan was in the middle of a bloodbath.

A terrorist bomb had turned a downtown Moscow bus-station into a smoke-filled slaughterhouse. Natasha was staggering about in a daze, trying to see through the haze of ash and debris, trying not to step on bodies or body parts, trying not to wade into pools of blood, trying not to vomit, trying not to add her voice to the dozens of screams she could barely hear through the ringing in her ears.

Mostly, she was trying to find her family.

What she found was Satan himself.

The State didn't approve of religion, but Natasha's mother had been a churchgoer. As a result, her daughter had a child's concept of God and Humanity's greatest adversary. And while the figure she saw stumbling out of the smoke and airborne debris didn't really fit the images she had seen at church, she was utterly certain she was facing the Devil in human form.

Satan's clothes were shredded and he was covered in blood from head to foot. Anger and despair seemed to radiate from him. His hair was swept back into something that vaguely resembled horns. Numerous wounds had savaged his body, but as Natasha stared in horrified awe, they began to heal.

Natasha's wounds were definitely not healing. Blood was pouring from a huge gash in her arm and with each beat of her heart she was growing steadily weaker.

Natasha closed her eyes and finally began to cry. The Devil had come to earth and taken her family. And now he would take her as well.

She could sense him crouching next to her. She could feel his warm breath on her face. And he was touching her and it hurt... it hurt... it hurt...

Satan was trying to speak to her. His voice was strangely gentle, but she didn't understand what he was saying. Much later - years later - she would realize that he was saying that he was sorry. That he had tried to stop the explosion, but had failed.

When Natasha awoke in a hospital, her nurse told her that the only reason she had survived was because someone had put a tourniquet on her arm.

The second time Natasha met Logan was years later in Berlin. She tried to seduce him. but it didn't go well.

The State found orphans incredibly useful. They were so easily molded. And the ones who had been orphaned by the enemies of the State were especially valuable. Fury and hate were tremendous motivaters, and Natasha was a very angry girl.

Natasha began her career with the KGB as the bait for honey traps. Her job was to use her body to draw foolish men and women into the oldest snare of all. It was amazing how easily otherwise intelligent and well-trained people succumbed to the allure of a young and beautiful face. The human desire for intimacy was a weakness that was all too easy to exploit.

Natasha's target was a NATO soldier who was given to spending time in one of the rougher neighborhoods of Berlin. Her spotter radioed her that he was in a particular bar and easily recognizable since he was in full uniform. Natasha did a quick check of her makeup in the rearview mirror of the car that was dropping her off and then stepped out into the street. A pair of toughs lounging near the door whistled at her, but otherwise weren't a problem.

In the bar, Natasha squinted through the smokey darkness until she caught a glimpse of khaki and brass. The plan was a KGB staple. She would approach the man and sell him her services. Over time, she would establish a relationship. Then she would eventually convince him to "save" her. Of course, getting her away from her pimp would require that he bribe the right people. And since soldiers didn't tend to have much money, the bribes would have to consist of information.

Putting a professional smile on her face and adding a sultry sway to her hips, Natasha walked over to the soldier and...

Dear God. It was impossible.

Satan was apparently a non-commissioned officer in the Canadian Army.

Logan was suprised by the sudden attention. He put down the beer he was drinking and looked at Natasha. At first, his reaction was exactly what you would expect from a man encountering a very pretty and very available young girl. But then he frowned.

"Hello," Natasha said quickly. Her English was still spotty. She hadn't shaken her accent yet.

"Sit down," Logan said. His tone of voice didn't acknowledge the possibility that she might not want to do as she was told.

Very aware that she was out-of-character and doing a lousy job with her mission, Natasha nervously sat next to the soldier.

Soldier, she told herself. Not a devil. Just a soldier.

Logan still seemed puzzled by Natasha. He cocked his head to one side... the way a predator does when it can't quite get a lock on what it's looking at. Then he leaned forward slightly and seemed to sniff the air around Natasha.

"I know you," he said slowly.

Yes, this mission is going straight to Hell, Natasha thought to herself.

"I don't cost much. I'll show you a good time," she said desperately.

Logan hooked a finger inside the sleeve of her blouse and pulled up. The fabric tore. And the scar on Natasha's arm was revealed.

There was nothing to say. Natasha froze.

"Get out," Logan said coldly.

Natasha fled the bar.

An hour later, Natasha met Logan again. And a man died.

Natasha was crouched in the corner of an empty room, with her arms over her head. Dmitri - her handler - was alternating between screaming at her and beating her with a belt.

Failure really wasn't much an option in the KGB.

Natasha's handler was a drunken brute who considered his "doves" to be little better than slaves. Natasha had been disciplined by him before. The trick was to acknowledge that he was hurting you, while not making it too entertaining for him. A few screams and moans were fine, but crying was a catastrophic mistake. Tears would send Dmitri into a frenzy.

Don't cry, Natasha told herself. Dear God, whatever you do don't start crying. But Dmitri was on a roll and it was getting more and more difficult to keep up her act.

Then, behind Dmitri, she saw Logan enter the room. He was as silent and focused as a hunting tiger.

The next day, the police found Dmitri's body scattered over a six block area. Nobody was ever arrested for the crime.

"You're not a devil," Natasha said as she splashed in the water of a fountain, washing away Dmitri's blood. She was still half-drunk on the high of his death.

"What?" Logan asked, obviously surprised by what Natasha had said.

"You're a guardian angel," Natasha laughed as she stepped out of the fountain. Blood-stained water was cascading down her body,

Logan just snorted as he wrapped his coat around her.

The next time Natasha met Logan was a few years later. It was in Singapore. Logan didn't know who he was and Natasha shot him.

Thanks to her considerable natural talents, Natasha had climbed the KGB ladder and was now a field agent. Any suspicions about Dmitri's death were forgotten or ignored as she produced results that nobody else could equal.

It was night, the nearest streetlight was a considerable distance away, and a tiny sliver of moon was hidden behind smog-filled clouds. The alleyway stank of garbage and blood. A half-dozen men were down on the ground and hardened Spetsnatz operators were screaming as they desperately tried to kill the monster that was tearing them to pieces.

The Spetsnatz troopers were supposed to be backing up Natasha. When they ran into trouble, Natasha was forced to abandon her mission to help them instead. She ran into the alley full-tilt, heading towards the loudest concentration of sound and fury. The occasional muzzle flash from the guns of the Spetsnatz team was all she had for light.

And then the alley went silent. The head of one of the Spetsnatz operators rolled out of the darkness and bumped into Natasha's foot. A dim form that was obviously not one of her Spetsnatz comrades whirled to face her. For a horrified second, Natasha wondered if they had somehow actually stumbled upon a werewolf.

Natasha emptied her automatic pistol into the shape before her. Most of her shots hit the target. The last few went wild as muzzle creep forced her weapon upwards. In the strobe-flash of her gunshots, she thought she saw the silver glitter of metal claws.

The shadow in the alleyway didn't fall down. Natasha's heart was in her mouth as she reached for her backup weapon...

"Dammit," a familiar voice said irritably.

Natasha had her backup pistol in her hand, but paused just before opening fire.

She knew that voice.

"Logan?" she asked incredulously.

"Hi, kid. Do I know you?"

"We... we've know each other for years. What's wrong, Logan?"

The dark form was silent for a long time.

"What do you know about me?" he finally asked.

"You're a Canadian soldier who sometimes works for the Americans and the English. You've helped me a couple of times. I don't know any other details about you except..."

"Except?" Logan prodded.

"Except that you're a good man," Natasha replied softly.

"Huh," Logan said. And then he was gone.

"Back to being a devil, I see," Natasha whispered shakily to an alleyway full of dead men.

Over the next few years, they bumped into one another several times. But when they met in New York city, almost a decade later, Logan finally had most of his memory back.

By then the Soviet Union had collapsed. However, the KGB had survived - it just had a different name. For Natasha, it was a case of "meet the new boss, same as the old boss."

"You look great," Logan observed. They were sitting in a Times Square coffee shop, enjoying some over-priced caffeine. There was no gunfire, screaming, or blood - it was a nice change of pace for them.

"The service has put all kinds of strange drugs into me," Natasha said. "I look and feel younger than I am."

A wary look appeared on Logan's face, "A super-soldier program?"

Natasha shook her head, "More of a super-spy program."

Logan shrugged and sipped his coffee, "What brings you to town?"

"A mission."

"What kind of mission?"

"You know I can't tell you."

"Are you going to kill someone?" Logan asked calmly.

Natasha hesitated.

"You're gonna get sick of killing one of these days," Logan observed.

Natasha was all Russian stoicism as she shrugged and said, "Perhaps."

Then she decided to change the subject. "Logan, I've always wondered. Why have you never tried to get me into bed?"

"Where the hell did that question come from?" Logan asked. He seemed genuinely shocked.

"From my feminine pride, I suppose. You're a world-class womanizer, but you've never tried your luck with me. Why?"

Logan suddenly looked pretty uncomfortable. "Well, the first time I met you, you were just a kid. And... well..."

Struggling for words, Logan ground to a halt and finished with a helpless shrug.

"So you're an angel again," Natasha observed with a smile.

A couple of years later, they met in Tokyo. Natasha was falling apart.

"I don't know what to do," Natasha said. She was trembling slightly and just barely maintaining her self-control.

"What's wrong?" Logan asked gently.

"The missions... they just..." Natasha began.

Then she stopped.

Logan waited patiently.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this," Natasha said exhaustedly. How many jobs had she done so far this year? Two dozen? And they seemed to make less and less sense. She wasn't killing the enemies of her country any more - she was killing people who had just pissed off someone important in the Kremlin. Or who hadn't paid their bribes. Or who owned something that someone in Moscow wanted. Or because the price was right.

The missions kept coming and they were beginning to all blur together. The red marks in her formerly neat and orderly ledger were tangled up and scrawling across so many pages. So many lives.

Logan examined Natasha's face. Her bosses were running her into the ground. Someone had realized that she was more than just another blindly obedient killer. She was beginning to balk and that worried the guys in charge. The decision had been made to use her until she broke.

And she still hadn't made the decision she had to make.

"Who's your target?" Logan asked.

"A North Korean arms dealer. I mean... who cares? He's a monster who sells nerve gas to petty dictators. But I... I... I just..."

Logan nodded. "Take a break. I'll get this one for you."

"So you're a devil this time?" Natasha asked without thinking.

Logan ignored what she'd said.

A month later, they were in Sydney.

"I'm leaving the service," Natasha told Logan.

Logan's eyes narrowed as he examined her carefully. "Not exactly an outfit that lets you resign."

"I'm defecting to SHIELD. If anyone can keep me alive, they can."

Logan nodded, "This have anything to do with that Barton character?"

"Yes. He's my SHIELD contact."

"That's all? You both seem pretty friendly."

"For pity's sake, Logan! Yes, he and I are lovers!"

"He's treating you okay?" Logan asked suspiciously.

Natasha rolled her eyes and then said firmly, "Clint has been good to me and I demand that you let him live! Understand?"

"Well... okay."

"There have been men in my life before! You didn't care! Why is Clint so different?"

"You didn't love those other guys. Barton can hurt you. He can hurt you in a way you've never been hurt."

That rocked Natasha to her core.

"I don't love him," she said after a moment of hesitation. "He's just... convenient."

Logan raised an eyebrow as he looked Natasha in the eyes.

"And I'm certainly not defecting just because of some man!" Natasha continued hotly. "I've been thinking about this for a long time."

"I know," Logan said.

Natasha suddenly frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I noticed a few years ago that you'd stopped being angry. You didn't have the fire in you any more. And the last time we talked, it was pretty obvious that you didn't like the way your bosses were making you stack up the bodies. They had you doing jobs that didn't make sense."

"You never said anything," Natasha said in surprise.

Logan shrugged, "You had to figure it out on your own. You're a smart girl, Natasha. A lot smarter than me. I knew you'd come around."

Natasha shook her head. Then she smiled.

"Angel," she said as she gently touched the side of Logan's face.

"Hey, what's with this angel and devil stuff?" Logan demanded.

Natasha just laughed. Then she kissed him on the cheek and walked away.

The hit team Natasha's bosses sent after her numbered well over a dozen men. And it included some very tough characters.

Natasha and her SHIELD contact weren't quite out of town, but when the killers arrived at the SHIELD safehouse where Natasha had been hiding, the only person there was Logan.

Logan knew that a message had to be sent that Natasha was to be left alone. And the message would have to be written in blood.

Lots of blood.

Natasha wasn't there to make the call, but if she had been, she would have said that Logan was the devil incarnate.