Sorry this took literally a month!? My mom took my computer and put me back on meds while im working 50 hours a weak :^\ i suffer...
Natasha Romanoff liked a lot of things, and hated even more. There was a mission gone right, a new gun, the thick squish and thud of a bullet making it's mark, or the bittersweet sting in her muscles after a workout. Then there were things she didn't like, that list was a little too extensive, but she could narrow it down to getting yelled at for doing the right thing.
Sighing she pulled a sweatshirt over her arms, bones clicking and ligaments screaming. This wasn't the good sore, this was a reminder, a mission gone wrong. They were supposed to extract intel, a HYDRA base that might have a scoop on Banner, the only thing they took out of it were bullet wounds. Well, Tony did, at least. Some prototype gun that nearly took off his arm. Or was it a laser? Canon? Specifics didn't matter, just that her… teammate, almost got himself deep fried by Neo-Nazis. It made tensions high, a reminder that even though they gained more allies, they were still scrambling and fragmented, and she might've let slip something she shouldn't have that…. well it didn't help.
The spy worked her way through the base, lingering behind corners at oncoming footsteps and voices. Conversation wasn't really on her mind. No, right now she was far to occupied with the fact that apparently no one else besides the green and red robot could see the big picture. That yes, what she did was wrong, but when an all-powerful A.I comes barreling down from the heavens yelling 'Hellfire! Hellfire! Hellfire!', you're more inclined to take the survival root over the morally sound one.
She should of just kept her mouth shut. She blamed Steve for implementing the idea that secrets can't be involved with trust, camaraderie, or any of that. But oh no, as soon as the little old Russian tells everyone about her game, a game to insure they'd win, it was suddenly bad to trust a bunch of adults not to freak out. Lesson learned. So now the Captain Meltdown was chasing the guy who put two bullets in her body, and threw him off a hellicarrier, angry at her.
Which left the woman to skitter around the base like a mouse in a box full of cats. She just wanted to run, a little exercise, maybe a pushup or two if her shoulder would stop acting up. Natasha stuck her thumb on the sensor, one, two, three scans and it flashed red. If she was one for vocal expression, she'd groan, but she wasn't. Tony had erased her ID from the databanks, meaning entry/exit doors, her room, well, basically everything but the kitchen was off limits until she was reinstated. Great.
If Stark wanted to act like a petulant child, fine, she'd let him. It wouldn't be too hard to make his life hell in return. Maybe jamming all his phones? Deleting a few accounts? She could fill the Iron Man suits with foam again, that was always fun.
Natasha loved games, except when they were designed to teach her a lesson, or at least try too. It made her spiteful and dreadfully unprofessional.
The few remaining Avengers weren't participating at least, just the billionaire. Wanda left to help relief efforts in Sokovia, PTSD, Insomnia, panic attacks, good practice for the girl and a positive sign she wouldn't flip the switch and go dark side. Natasha didn't like the hair though, she'd never tell her that unless asked, of course, but dark shades were definitely better on the girl. And Thor? Well, after her little bomb drop during the last mission, he didn't waste any time with the disappointed eyes and angry snort before flying away routine. Steve, the good ole spinster, saying he was made was an understatement. She pretended his 'I thought I could trust you' speech didn't effect her. It did. She hated it, it meant she was getting soft. She wouldn't mention mention Clint, he was still ignoring her.
So when she let slip that she may or may not have lead Bruce on, she may or may not have lied about 'feelings' so he'd stay for the final battle, only Vision understood. It wasn't much of a comfort. Yes, she played the Hulk, yes she lied about herself to him, but it was for the greater good! They couldn't have won without him, and Bruce was always the variable, the flake, and if she needed to keep his act together, she would.
Natasha slunk around the corner walking past a couple of techs from down stares whispering over coffee. They didn't spare her a glance, she preferred it, a hero's spotlight wasn't where someone with her background belonged, but it reminded her all too much of the treatment the rest of the team had given her.
The Russian shut her eyes briefly, inhaling through her nose as the light tap of her sneakers struck concrete. The building still smelt new, like unsettled dust, fresh plastic, and leather, perhaps a little too much Frebreeze to try and cover it up. In the hallway alone Natasha could spot 7 weaknesses a skilled assassin could exploit, 8 if you counted the decorative ferns. She learned a lot of thing in the Red Room, like now to never regret.
And she didn't. She played Bruce, she used his loneliness and self-resentment against him, but for everyone else. What kept him back when Wanda picked apart his brain? She did. What kept the Hulk under control? She did. And if Natasha had to do it again, she would. Saving lives and making the hard calls was her job. Steve was there, Tony was there, but what more are they than figure heads? They're easier to look at, to believe in. You don't tell your kids to idolize an ex-KGB assassin with so many hits she stopped counted(she didn't, it as just easier to distance herself that way, lying had always been easy, even to herself). So she'd make the dirty choices, the important ones, too.
Her ledger wasn't getting any smaller, but who cares when you have government funding?
Tony could suck it up, and she would go on that run. Screw the push ups, screw the squats, she just needed to move. So Natasha turned sharply, her rubber heels squelching against the smooth floor as she glided back to the entrance. Tony could call her a robot, Steve could act betrayed, Thor could play dutiful prince, she didn't care. The greater good doesn't always call for good deeds, she knew that, that all should. Kneeling next to the security interface Natasha plucked a bobby pin from her hair, it was too tight anyway, her scalp was starting to ache, and jammed it beneath the metal cover.
She hated flashing red lights.
"Miss Romanoff? If there Something I can assist you with?"
Her shoulders tensed before she recognized the automated voice of Tony's newest toy.
"Not anymore, Friday, thank you." She said blankly, reaching to her back pocket and pulling out her phone. He shut off more than her security access apparently, the WiFi and cell service were shut off. His loss, that hunk of glass and metal came out of his pay grade.
"Mister Stark has ordered me to restrict your access to the facilities. May I recommend the lounge, or perhaps, not defacing Stark Property?"
"You may not."
"I will contact security."
Natasha had to stop her self to rolling her eyes, "You will tell Stark to confront me personally if he has a problem."
She didn't care about finesse anymore, and cracked the mobile screen open against the ground. Picking at the insides till she found the battery. If she could thank Stark for one thing, it would be his habit of overpowering everything. She tugged one off the connected wires free and stuck it behind the interface.
"Miss Romanoff, pl-"
"That will be all, Friday." Natasha thumbed the phone to life and sat back to watch the fireworks, as the the machines grille each other.
She meant what she said, if someone had an issue with her, talk about it. Steve did it during the whole winter soldier debacle, even if she might have fucked their relationship over, she learned something from it: confrontation is good for unprofessionals. Natasha yanked the fried tech free and left it to sizzle on the tiles. Closing her eyes again she rolled her arm with a tight pinch along the shoulder blade. The doctors told her to go easy on it, but the woman needed stress relief, and she needed it now.
"You know, you could have just asked me for help."
Her fingers twitched, she stopped them from hurling a decorative plant at the voice. It was Vision, grinning down at her. Natasha popped her neck as she stood, savoring the relief after evenryjoint. "Not really my style."
The A.I made a contemplative hum, almost a laugh that twinkled beneath his eyes, "So I've noticed, but yet you're part of the Avengers?"
"Someone has too."
"Yes…" The robotic man's gaze drifted across the floor, his hands folded behind his back, over the cape, yellow was a nice touch, but the whole drapery thing? First Thor now Vision? If Clint was talking to her he'd probably say he wanted one. He nodded towards the mess of sparking wires, "Your work, I take it?"
She shrugged, shifting her weight from one hip to the next, hands in her pockets, "I'm not from IT, but blunt force has it's uses."
"I'll remember that if we have a disagreement,"He smiled, "I'd hate to be on your bad side."
This was the part where she'd gloat. Say something like 'oh, people don't stay there for long', or be clever. She wasn't in the mood. Like she said, it wasn't her style, it was Stark's. The A.I's brow pressed forward, looking her over. He wasn't even subtle. Then again, he wasn't trained since youth to figure out how to render someone inert in the first five seconds of contact. Vision just had this wise but naive curiosity about him that hung around like perfume. He was an optimist, she was a realist, Natasha wasn't jealous. Optimism led to disappointment.
"I did come here for a question, though, not that your hacking skills aren't impressive," Ah, here it is, the 'how could you lie to him, you monster' speech, not that everyone save for maybe Wanda or Sam, had gifted it to the assassin.
"Ultron had believed that doing the wrong thing would lead to a wholesome aftermath, and you had pitted against him as an enemy."
"-And you didn't?" Natasha interjected. She was being snappish, Vision wasn't perfect at social queues, she understood that, but the internal resentment for being psychoanalyzed was stronger than her patience.
The A.I's smile turned sad, "No, not really, not that I expect it to be mutual. Ultron, for all his miss givings, wasn't an enemy because I do not hate him. I do not condone his actions, never, but I do not resent what he was, or could of been."
He tilted his head, a painfully thoughtful look on his face. Vision was… different, and she wasn't sure if that was nativity or an incredibly rare outlook he shared. It took her a mere seconds to decide it wasn't important, "May I continue my original question?"
The woman nodded, arms now crossed in front of her.
"He sinned to do what he believed was right, and he is your enemy. Yet, I witness you do the same to your teammates, your friends? What does that make you?"
She sighed, "I do what I have to do to make sure everyone get's out alive, that's my job, that's the difference. Ultron wanted peace, in a way, that's our end goal, but as far as connections go that's it."
"Do you hate him?"
In all honesty, she wasn't sure. She hated Loki, he warped Clint, he scarred him, twisted his mind and played with it like some hellish marionette. He hurt her family, he almost made her break a promise, to get Clint back safely, and her chance of getting a kid named after her. It was personal with him, she hated Loki because he was weak, petulant, lying that he was strong and acting out because of a revoked birthright and identity issue. Congratulations, welcome to midlife crisis club, snack bar's on the left and here's your free T-shirt. But Ultron? It wasn't personal. He killed Pietro, but did she know the kid? Aside from the whole, killing humanity thing.
"Weakly, yes."
"It's hard to hate someone in pain, isn't it?"
But was he? Vision was soft on Ultron, everyone knew that, maybe because of them being the same breed, or the his lack of investment in one particular side.
"What's your point?" She shrugged. Spending time in that cell months ago wasn't fruitful, he had tighter lips than a thousand year old demi-god, and her whole reason for staying was to gather intel. So maybe she was a little sour about that, just a little. It made hate easier.
"Do you resent yourself?"
This conversation was not going where she wanted it too, "Why?"
"You lied, manipulated your friend in an intimate way, but for what you believed to be a safer result."
"If I didn't he'd have left, and we would've lost."
"So what's the answer?"
She turned, facing the door and wrapping her scarred fingers around the cool metal, scabs pulling against her skin. What did she say? I hate what I was turned into from decades of illegal experiments, brainwashing, and training? Did she say yes because she still remembered being pumped with endorphins every time she made a kill, and to this day sometimes she'll still get a rush? Did she say she's doesn't know what love is anymore because she turned it into a weapon? Do those things make her a monster? Does the fact that she's torn down regimes, that she's slept in the blood of people who loved her empty husk, that she's killed children, fathers, mothers, and rarely felt a thing, make her a monster? Does it make her hate herself?
No.
She hates what they did to her, that they took away her life, her happiness, and heart, and put something dead in its place. She hates that they desensitized death, the impact, and consequences that follow. But she's thankful, because those skills, her knowledge of every way to break a bone, to bend a conversation, to escape certain death and always get what you want kept her alive. Maybe the smell of blood and gore clings to her like a shadowy perfume, but she's learned to relish it.
Natasha frowned, "It's complicated." And pulled open the door.
There was a head in an Christmas wreath.
A head with dead, all too familiar eyes cut through the broken metal of the hollow cheeked skull, and a note hanging on its horn in a pretty red ribbon. Her stomach clenched, sweat tingling on the back of her neck as her ears buzzed and fingers twitched. The spy's heart almost changed the steady baritone, as she took as tentative step forward. Kneeling against the snow covered earth as she stared at the festive paper tied to the severed head.
It was Ultron's, and the note read:
'Did you miss me?
xoxo'
Thank you so much for reading! sorry it's short? But i'd love to hear what you think! please review!
Im quitting my job have my computer back so i'll have lots of time to update! thanks for reading! i love u all...
looma: Thank you so much! you're honestly so sweet i cant believe it !? I lov... I lOV
bullybullet:thank you!
LVOWL: Ur computer is seriously possessed like idk man u might need 2 call a priest? And thank you! and you'll See! ahaaa. And is HYDRA behind it all? Who knows..? Honestly im so pumped to get him out of Death Trap Dron Body because 1. it's literally like... killing him, 2. JFC? That 8 feed of metal man? Im all about? And she does! Near Rengley, the bombing was about 6/7 hours away, so driving distance, or dron walking distance. And Updates will be more more frequent now that my computers back! if people r still reading lmao? its been a month holy shit. But thank you! MY HEART! THANK U!
Sorona3: The shit if builing in2 a hurricane. and it was! First time holding hands everyone is very proud of how far we've come lmao And u should b worried about Ultron honestly like... at this point he's gonna need it bc im Not Nice. And thank you! i love headcannons and shit so.. .i have ... a lot... . but yeah! Thank you so much! THNK YOU !XOXOXOXOOOO