Thank you to those of you who reviewed, I was pleasantly surprised by how quickly the prologue procured a positive response and so in one of my fastest updates ever I have Chapter 1 ready for you.
The OC in this story is my first ever in a leading role, review and help me avoid the horror of Marry-Sue.
I do not own the Avengers or Thor.
Warnings: Some violence and gore.
Please enjoy.
Six months later.
Natasha Romanov had just enough time to turn on her tracking device that would convey to the others that she needed back up before she was forced to flatten herself against the rough stone of the cave wall to avoid her opponent.
The assignment had started routinely enough, she was to pose as a tourist visiting a bazaar in the working class district of Jaisalmer, an apparently vulnerable european woman was more than enough to bait the Pakistani terrorists she had been tracking on Director Fury's orders for the past three months.
They group it's self wasn't anything noteworthy, a small-time collection of a few extremists who pulled off what would be considered little more than minor disturbances in the Middle East, car bombs and the like. Then roughly four and a half months prior out of nowhere they had taken out an entire platoon of american troops. Killed wasn't the right word because that implied something as simple and crude as murder, they had erased them, no evidence of how they had done it, or what may have happened to the bodies, and the military was left to try to piece together how a seeming non-entity had made roughly forty highly trained men vanish into thin air. When they failed to come up with any viable scenarios they had turned the case over to S.H.I.E.L.D. for a more extensive examination. Interrogation was her specialty and so the task of constructing a hypothesis about what might have transpired fell to her.
Natasha was no stranger to the shifting balance of power in volatile parts of the world, it was simple actually, a society at it's most appalling but a society none the less, and a heavily hierarchal one at that. Here the largest, most violent groups held the power and whoever could carry out the most successful shock and awe campaign possessed that title. In other words a great deal of it came down to posturing and she had seen this ploy one hundred times over, they had hired a group of high caliber soldiers to make it look like they were more dangerous than they really were.
In theory from that point her assignment became extremely straightforward, capture and question one of the members about how they had pulled off something of that magnitude, then hand them over to interpol. Given that she had been fighting in a war this time last year it was practically a vacation.
The scene when her "captors" had finally removed the blindfold from her eyes spoke differently however. They had driven her out to somewhere in the lesser Himalaya in the back of a dilapidated blue pick up, a Ford she noted dryly, to what she assumed was their base which really amounted to little more than a cave with some tables, chairs, and outdated Stark tech crammed into it however she scarcely noticed the equipment in light of the sight before them.
It was a total blood bath. At least a dozen carcasses littered the ground, nearly all of them in various states of disembowelment and every visible surface was coated in red fluid, she barely contained a shudder as the dripping ceiling caught her attention. Most of it had collected in a pool on the dirt floor and was slowly but surely soaking in to it, turning it to mud.
In the middle of it all a figure stood over the carnage, Natasha frowned and blinked to make sure she was seeing correctly.
What she had been expecting was a band of several men, in all likelihood with guns and knives, most mercenaries in this part of the world had an undeniably rough air about them, soldiers of fortune were recognized by an abundance of scars from a lifetime of fighting.
She had not been expecting the cause of such a scene to be a woman.
She was very beautiful, tall, waif-like and deceptively fragile looking, even given that she was covered in blood. Her hair was long and dark and because her back was to her she could see that most of it was tangled and damp.
Her pants were were ripped and stained almost beyond recognition as such and her top which might have been white at one point, was practically falling off. From beneath the frayed material she could see a long, deep gash that spanned most of the left side of her ribcage where someone had obviously cut her, the wound was swollen and caked with dirt. Blood and pus leaked freely from the abrasion and she could see a white shard of bone from a broken rib just above the curve of her waist, she estimated the woman had perhaps a few hours to receive medical attention before the infections became debilitating.
Her hope was that she would be able to reason with her, women normally weren't given to the same irrational rages men were, there must have been a reason she killed them. Had they attempted to force themselves on her? Struck her? Threatened her?
She took a deep breath and stepped forward, ignoring her armed escorts in favor of slowly and cautiously approaching the other female, "Hello, my name is agent Romanov", she began, reciting the script she had learned as a recruit for these situations, "I am a representative of a government organization called-".
"Get out", the voice was curiously accented, very quiet, and very cold. For a moment she thought she heard something like menace hidden in her words but decided she had imagined it, chalking her paranoia up to the shock of finding three quarters of her targets massacred. Even perfectly decent people could do things that seemed unimaginable under ordinary circumstances if they were pushed too far, in all likelihood she had nothing to fear.
Nonetheless, Natasha frowned, taken aback by the swift and harsh response a simple greeting had elicited, but she supposed it was only natural that she would be wary of a stranger who had just arrived with the remaining members of the syndicate. It would take some carefully chosen words to convince the woman she meant no harm"I understand that you may be frightened or even injured", she pressed on, "I ask that you remain calm and cooperate fully so that I may provide you with any assistance that you require".
"I said leave", came the hissed reply and the woman turned sharply. The frightening speed and grace of the motion alone were shocking enough but it was the woman's eyes that made her freeze.
They were empty.
She had seen that look before, every morning in the mirror before Clint had found her and helped her gain a purpose. It was the expression of someone who believed they had nothing left to loose, of someone who no longer cared what happened to them, of a killing machine.
Perhaps if her life had not been her own and she were less worldly Natasha would have been afraid, but as it stood her heart only ached in pity for whatever horror the woman had suffered to reduce her to such a state. It was not a question of if something terrible had happened to her but what, and more importantly what had she been forced to do to survive?
The long fingers flexed and she took note of a shard of broken glass held loosely between them, but the woman remained otherwise motionless, her posture did nothing to indicate her next actions. She had been trained, there was no question of it, a civilian would have unconsciously backed away betraying an intention to run or leaned forward in preparation for a fight. It was only a skilled combatant that would recognize the need to keep a neutral stance, carefully shifting their body so that no tendency might be more pronounced than the others. And if this was no random act of desperate violence, if this was calculated then she must have known these men, perhaps even worked with them…Her eyes widened in realization…
"You're the mercenary", she murmured.
A deep gash on her forehead was dripping down onto her small, straight, nose, her lips were parted to reveal a gleaming flash of razored teeth, and her hollow eyes stared, she nodded once.
She worked hard to keep her face blank and not show how much that discomfited her. Save for a couple of useless men who meant to kill her she was alone with a person who had single handedly obliterated an entire squadron and she was in no way prepared for any kind of prolonged combat, most of her more powerful weapons were in her room at headquarters because she had believed this would be a routine recon job. For the first time in a long time she had been caught off guard.
She closed her eyes and counted back from ten in her head in an attempt to clear her mind. When the blind panic had settled she leveled her own gaze at the tall figure across the plateau and forced herself to say in a clear, steady voice, "Did you kill those soldiers?".
The woman tilted her head to the side as if to say that she did not consider it of any particular importance, "I did".
She could remember being like that at one time to, playing at being emotionless, but if this woman were similar to herself at all somewhere buried beneath that careful apathy, it was painful to think that so many people had suffered at her hands.
"How did you do it?", she pressed.
At this a cruel, vague little smile touched her quarry's features, "Would you like to see?", she questioned serenely.
Natasha did not respond, trepidation told her to remove herself from the situation before the same fate befell her, both duty and compassion told her the right course was to stay.
The woman did not wait for her answer and she suddenly regarded the remaining men, utterly expressionless, and stretched out a slender hand to them.
The three of them looked between one another, clearly confused by the gesture.
It occurred to her before it actually happened that she was about to loose her remaining witnesses.
The tall woman's eyes narrowed slightly in what at least looked like concentration and watched them, searching each for a reaction, and then abruptly coiled her hand into a fist.
They didn't even have time to scream and she distantly heard her own sharp intake of breath as her captors disintegrated on the spot, the swirling cloud of dust left behind, their remains, vanished with a hot gust of wind. A telekinetic, a true telekinetic, she had never even heard of a real one before, let alone seen one. Her brow furrowed in anxiety, in his time Director Fury had come up against a handful of people possessed of the power to move objects with their mind, from every experience he had chosen to share with them it seemed such individuals were notoriously powerful and lacking in control.
She was reminding herself more determinedly than ever not to show this woman fear. She behaved like a predator and to not appear as prey it was crucial to seem an equal, she could not demonstrate any weakness now.
She would stick to protocol until such a time that it was impossible.
"You aren't human, are you?", she called her voice echoing oddly across the now empty rocky plane.
"No".
That ruled out the possibility of the woman being some sort of experiment or mutant. Frustration flittered through her, that was going to make it tenfold more difficult to gather information on her and she had a very clear sense that one would not want to be caught off guard by this woman. The better an idea they had of what they were dealing with the safer it would be for everyone involved.
"What are you?", Natasha could tell by the sudden tensing of the woman's thin shoulders that she was pushing her luck, it was the first true display of emotion so far, her question must have touched a nerve.
The woman looked at her hands, spreading her slim, willowy fingers wide, dropping the shard of glass in the process, and murmured, "Do I want to know?".
She frowned, uncertain if she was implying that she did not know her own origin or if she were simply mocking her.
"Do you have a name?".
"Yes", she made no move to elaborate further.
"Will you give it?".
"It does not matter", the woman answered flatly.
"Actually it does", Natasha corrected, "You're coming with me. Are you aware that you're wanted for the murder of U.S. Army Platoon Eleven?".
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?", came the maddeningly mild reply.
"It should", she responded honestly, "But after what you just showed me I didn't expect it to".
"And if I would choose not to come with you?".
Despite herself she smiled, she seemed to catch on fast, "I wasn't actually asking".
The woman seemed to debate for a moment and then said, "I have no dispute with you, leave me alone and I will not harm you". She strode forward with a smooth, gliding, gait and as she approached the extent of the damage to her body became more apparent. Besides the major injuries there were countless cuts and bruises and Natasha was left to wonder why someone who could kill effortlessly from a distance would engage in hand to hand combat.
Regardless, she could not let her leave, the United States Government wanted answers and Director Fury had trusted her to find them. As subtly as she could she reached for the gun in the holster at her hip, hidden beneath her long skirt, silently working the zipper back.
The instant her thumb found the cold metal of the weapon the woman's eyes shot to her hand, she lifted an eyebrow skeptically, "That won't work on me", she shared calmly.
"I don't want to kill you", she explained, "I just need to force your cooperation".
The woman flicked a finger and the piece of glass returned to her grip, "You're certain?".
"I'm certain", she pulled the gun from it's hiding place.
"If you wish", the woman conceded.
And then she disappeared.
Natasha had just enough time to duck as the woman's arm shot past her head, slicing her ear in the process. She scrambled backward and pulled herself to her feet, leveling the gun on her opponent with shaking hands, it had been a long time since anyone had gotten that close to landing a fatal hit.
She pulled the trigger but the woman evaded the bullet easily and lunged again, she rolled to the side and and found her back pressed against the cave entrance. She swore and ducked inside to avoid a vicious slash aimed at her abdomen , pulling out her tracker in the process and flicking the switch that would send the alert, "Come on Clint", she whispered.
"He won't find you in time", the lifeless voice came from somewhere near the entrance to the dark cavern.
She did not rise to the bait, knowing that the woman likely could not see her, she was waiting for her to make a sound to betray her location.
The sound of her heart racing in her chest was deafening and she was sure the woman could hear it, that she was using the same blood rushing in her ears to hunt her. Natasha closed her eyes and attempted to get a grip on her fear, not of death, she had never been afraid to die. It was the waiting, the terrible anticipation before the axe fell.
The tall woman made no noise as she stalked the caves, no footsteps, no breath, it was like she had ceased to exist save for that terrible sense of something dangerous in the cavern.
And then finally a familiar sound, a welcome sound, an arrow whizzing through the air, followed by a dull thud and a sharp intake of air.
She opened her eyes to see Clint's silhouette, outlined against the late afternoon sun beyond the cave.
The woman stood perhaps only ten feet from where she was crouched and she could just make out the arrow protruding through her chest. She whipped around to see her assailant and nodded when she came face to face with Agent Barton, "Impressive", she whispered.
And then she collapsed.
Natasha clambered over the rock floor to where the slight body had fallen, "Did you kill her?", she gasped, as she hurriedly seized a delicate wrist to check for a pulse.
He shook his head, "That arrow was laced with a powerful sedative, unless I messed up and hit a vital organ she should be fine".
She nodded, and took hold of the arrow, pulling it out in a single, hard tug. She knew from experience it was easier to remove them in one fell swoop than go through the messy process of slowly prying them from the body as the inflammation of the wound made extraction increasingly more painful and difficult.
Clint rubbed her shoulder reassuringly and not for the first time she was grateful that he knew how precious a simple, friendly, gesture could be to a person in their line of work. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and she heard an indistinct voice on the other end answer.
"Yeah", he replied, "we got them. Bring the bird around".
The woman groaned and stirred, Natasha jerked back as if she had been burned. How was she coming to already? The medication should have been more than enough to knock out someone her size for quite a while. Clint noted the movement as well with a grim expression and added, "Make it fast".
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