Warning: Slight violence in the beginning of this chapter.

Chapter 9

"I only act like I know everything."

When Natasha finally came back to consciousness, she found herself lying on the floor of a dark room, her hands cuffed tightly together. The back of her head throbbed painfully, and she groaned when she sat up. They'd taken off her bloodied jacket and removed her boots. All the weapons she'd hidden under her clothes had been taken as well.

The beat up Avenger inhaled a sharp breath when her broken ribs stabbed at her lungs the wrong way, and she made the mistake of leaning her back against the wall behind her. She'd forgotten about the large gash she'd gotten from that knife, and the open wound stung agonizingly when it made contact with the freezing wall. Her left arm hung limply; the shoulder dislocated and painful.

Now that she'd regained most of her senses, her training kicked in, and she began to analyze the situation she was in. The room they'd thrown her in wasn't too large, and smelled of rust and oil. The door was made of metal; thick and reinforced. Dried blood littered the floor and parts of the wall, with shackles hanging in various places.

Natasha couldn't tell how much time had passed since they'd captured her, and hoped that the others had gotten away in time. If they had, they still had a lot of crap left to deal with once they got back to the facility. The incident would probably be on every news site; only adding to the hatred that they'd tried so hard to put down over the last year.

The door suddenly slammed open, and light spilled into the room, poking at the assassin's eyes. Natasha pushed herself up as much as she could without adding pressure to her injuries. A figure stepped inside, well-built but not too tall, and sauntered over to her position on the floor. His voice was deep, and he spoke with a sense of authority.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Natasha slowly looked into his face, finding it chiseled and covered in scars. Her eyes rapidly scanned the amount of weapons he had, and wandered down to the keys hanging on his belt before drifting back up.

"Mind telling me where here is?"

He smiled and shifted down to a crouch, his head level with hers. Natasha didn't look away or shrink back even for a moment, something he admired. Not a lot of people talked back to him without fear in their voice.

"I know who you are, Natasha Romanoff." She stiffened slightly but her face remained impassive. "And I know what you've done. So much blood on your hands – the blood of innocent people who didn't deserve your cruelty. You call yourself an Avenger, someone who fights to protect people who need protection." He fingered a knife on his belt. "Let me tell you something, Black Widow. The Avengers aren't saviors. You all are cowards."

Natasha swallowed, her throat dry. "Cowards?" she asked, her voice quiet. "Last time I remembered, cowards don't try and save a bunch of innocent people. We've done some bad things yes," she continued, not looking away from the man's intense gaze, "but cowards are those who can't save their own people and need to find someone else to put the blame on."

Silence followed her statement, and the next thing she knew, she was pressed against the wall, the man shoving his forearm against her throat and squeezing. His face was livid, and Natasha couldn't help but cry out when his fist smashed against her side, splintering her already weakened ribs. He threw her down roughly and pinned her to the ground with his large frame. She felt blood pour out from the gash in her back and stain her white top a crimson red. The man suddenly put pressure on her dislocated shoulder, twisting it, and Natasha thought she would pass out from the pain.

Struggling viciously, she bashed her face into his nose. A loud crack echoed as it broke, she and scrambled to her knees as his hands flew to his bloody face. He lunged towards her again but she rolled to the side; black dots dancing across her vision. With all her remaining strength, she grabbed one of the shackles on the wall and ripped them off the wall. She whipped the metal chains into his face, causing him to fall backwards. He hit the floor hard. In an instant she was on him, her bloody thighs wrapping around his thick neck, but he recovered quickly and shoved her with brute force. Her back hit the wall with a sickening thud and her head smacked to the floor.

The man grabbed the abandoned shackles off the floor; blood glistened on them from where Natasha had struck his face. As soon as Natasha managed to force herself up from the floor, he slammed them down on her, tearing open a large gash on her thigh. No sound escaped from her, but an agonizing expression formed on her face. Tossing the shackles aside, the man lifted her face by her hair and smashed his fist into her jaw, repeatedly. When he finally backed away, wiping blood from his face, she was barely conscious, breathing in ragged breaths and struggling to stay awake. She dimly hear the door slam shut behind the man as he left, and sagged against the cold wall, coughing up blood.

She thought of Wanda, and despite the pain racking through her body, a small smile appeared on her bruised face. The Black Widow wasn't that easy to put down. They'd realize that soon enough.


They must have drugged her, because when Natasha next woke up, she was in a much different cell; with polished metal walls and reinforced restraints on the door. There was an actual bed in the corner as well, along with a faucet. Natasha gingerly lifted herself off the thin mattress and grimaced as her wounds sent pain shooting up her body. She was surprised she was still alive considering the onslaught that she'd just gone through. Blood coated most of her body, and more still oozed from her open wounds. Her hands were still cuffed; her wrists had cuts in them that stung when she moved. It felt like someone was hammering at her head from the inside.

There were a pair of shoes by the edge of the bed. Natasha slipped her feet into them after a moment's hesitation. She sat on the thin mattress and stared at the camera that was slowly revolving on the ceiling; her face blank but her emerald eyes promising murder. The minutes ticked by; then hours. Hunger clawed at her, but she remained impassive. Not long after, several clicks echoed and the door slowly opened, sliding easily on the well-oiled hinges. Three heavily armed men walked in. They didn't look like the soldiers they'd intercepted at the base. They seemed more official; serious expressions on their face and their outfits more personalized.

"Come quietly, and no harm will come to you."

Natasha didn't answer immediately. Then, slowly, a wicked grin spread across her face, and one of the soldiers fidgeted slightly.

"I can do that." Two of the soldiers inched forward cautiously and secured her arms. Even though her hands were restrained by the cuffs, they weren't taking any chances. The third soldier walked behind them; his gun up and pointed at her back as they proceeded out the door. Natasha wanted nothing more than to snap their necks and get the hell out of there, but she knew she had to bide her time. Truthfully, some part of her was curious of where they were taking her. The soldier on her left pressed a little harder on her arm as they steered her down the hallway. Her shoulder throbbed, and she sent the man a severe glare, but he ignored her and kept his eyes forward.

She judged that they must be in some large facility, since they passed by rooms and laboratories in which lots of people roamed around in, ranging from scientists to soldiers. The individuals inside stopped to stare as she passed. As soon as she looked at them however, everyone went back to what they were doing. She smirked despite the situation. Even when locked up and restrained people feared the Black Widow. They always would.

Finally, they stopped at a large door and one of the soldiers knocked on it. It slid open smoothly, a slight hiss following the motion. The soldiers prodded Natasha in, and the door slid shut again, silencing all the sounds that could be heard from the hallway. The room was extravagant; technologized to the point it could have made Stark jealous. There was a large table in the middle with papers scattered around. At the far end of it, the largest chair was turned around, and Natasha could just make out the outline of a large figure sitting on it. The chair slid to face the group at the door, and the figure rose.

The most notable fact about him was the suit he was wearing. It was made of some weird black material that looked durable, but with veins of some type of metal flitting across. A large necklace stretched across his chest; lined with fangs and a large pendant hanging in the middle. An unusual mechanism covered each of his hands. Muscles rippled underneath his covered arms and chest, and he had a confident stance that oozed authority. His face however, was uncovered. His skin was chocolate, and his eyes radiated strength and wisdom; but were also lined with kindness. Natasha gazed at him and he looked at her. They evaluated each other for a few moments before the man spoke:

"Remove her handcuffs." His voice was deep and lined with a slight accent. One of the soldiers hesitated slightly, but brought out the key. The cuffs fell to the floor with a clang and Natasha stood there, a bit uncertain.

"Fix her shoulder." Natasha sent the man a sharp glance when one of the soldiers suddenly stepped forward, grabbed her left arm and raised it to a specific angle, and popped the shoulder back into place. She doubled over and let out a muffled scream, the sudden pain flashing hot and fast through her. Her breaths came harshly and she faintly registered the soldiers exiting the room, leaving just her and the man with the suit alone.

He waited for her to recover - not having moved from his spot by his chair. When Natasha finally regained her breath and looked up, he had a small smile on his face and slowly made his way over. She noticed that his movements were firm yet slow, as if not to startle her.

Stopping a couple of feet away from her, he gestured to a chair. "Please, sit."

Natasha wanted to refuse, but her head was pounding and she could barely breathe because of the condition her ribs were in. So she sat.

"I apologize for how you were treated. I asked for them to contain you, but they informed me you were being…difficult." He didn't waver under her gaze but continued. "I do not want war with the Avengers, nor do I think that you were trying to harm civilians when your team showed up. However, you did murder more than a dozen of my men."

Natasha didn't look away, but something flickered in her eyes. She said quietly, "They ambushed us."

"And yet they were the ones that bled to death on the ground and walls of their base."

"We weren't there to go against the local authorities! I would've killed them on the spot instead of following them if that were true. And I don't know if you know this, but they were torturing my teammate. Now I'm not familiar with the way you guys run things, but I'm pretty sure you don't stand idly by when one of your men are screaming their head off."

He nodded and seemed to mull things over in his head. "So, tell me then, Ms. Romanoff, why are you actually here?"

The assassin didn't seem surprised he knew her name; basically everyone knew who the Avengers were after she dumped all those classified files on the internet and after the Battle of Sokovia.

"We received a tip-off that Hydra was going to make an appearance. Which they did."

The man crossed his arms and paced around the room. "Under normal circumstances, I would have killed you on the spot."

Natasha tensed.

He went on. "However, these are not normal circumstances, so I will rethink my decision on what to do with you."

Silence filled the rooms for a couple of moments. "Do you have a name?"

"Pardon?"

"A name. Ever heard of it? It's what people call each other."

He smiled at her attitude. "My men call me T'Challa. But I am also known as the Black Panther."

Natasha paused; she had heard of activity in this area before, but never of someone called that.

T'Challa moved away suddenly and quietly spoke something into a concealed communication device. "So," he said as he turned back around again, "you say that you came here because of a Hydra threat? Did you ever consider why Hydra was here in the first place?"

She didn't say anything. He seemed unperturbed by her silence, and asked, "What do you know about Vibranium?"

"It's the strongest metal known to man."

"Correct, and I assume that you might have realized last year after your dealing with Ulysses Klaw that the Vibranium in your team member's shield is not the last of the material?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes but nodded. This Black Panther seemed to have a lot of information pertaining to the Avengers. T'Challa shifted and a noise of what sounded like blades being drawn flitted suddenly from his hands. From the weird mechanisms on his hands that Natasha had noticed earlier, wickedly sharp and shining blades shaped like claws protruded over each of his fingers. She didn't flinch at the noise, but it alarmed her nonetheless. He turned the claws over and let her observe them.

"This, Natasha, is just a small amount of the Vibranium we currently possess." He saw a surprised expression flit across her face and then vanish. "I am telling you this because I do not wish for us to be enemies. You're not stupid. You know, or at least, you suspect that I'm capable of a lot of things. Things that might not settle too well with your friends. Hydra is a threat to many, and I will not tolerate them hurting my people and stealing from me." With a slight whir and the same sharp sound, the claws retreated.

Natasha shifted and winced slightly. "Why keep me here then?"

T'Challa's expression darkened. "I believe you forgot to mention one last reason why you came to Africa."

The door behind them suddenly opened and Natasha whipped around to see two soldiers enter dragging someone between them. They dropped the man to the floor, and a metal glint pierced Natasha's eyes. Kneeling on the ground in front of her with his face bloody and bruised, and long hair wallowing over his dark eyes, was the Winter Soldier.

Dun dun dun! Bucky Barnes is back in town :)

So, I hope this proved to be an interesting chapter, and I just wanted to say that I don't really know too much about Black Panther's character, so I apologize if some of you don't like the way I portrayed him.

Thanks for reviewing!