Avengers: The (Alien) Sun's Going Down

by Black' Victor Cachat

Natasha had a feeling Bruce would run, and she had been very serious when she said she'd run with him. Unfortunately, she hadn't planned on running across the universe to a literal (and figurative) dump. Oh well, they could make this work. Various pairings. AU for AoU, CA:CW, S:H, T:R, BP, A:IW, & AMaW.

2. What a Dump

For better or worse, I do not own any Marvel franchise

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Many thanks to my wonderful Betas, Bobbie23, Jesuslovesmarina, and MasterQwertster, who write some pretty cool stories. Go read them!

The fantastic cover image is courtesy of rickyryan. Just perfect!

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Avengers: The (Alien) Sun's Going Down

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Chapter 2: What a Dump

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Sakaar

Upon a world that collected the garbage of the universe – whether it be in the form of sentients or the junk they created — a sadly familiar scenario was playing out. The best slaver available to the government, a beautiful, humanoid woman with silver markings on her face, was examining her newest catch. Newcomers were always so surprised and vulnerable.

However . . . this time something different was happening.

Scrapper 142 –she had given up on her old name, along with her past— whistled in surprise as the scrawny guy started to bulk up and go green. Guess he's more than Red's boyfriend, dad, or pet after all. Still…

On cue the Obedience Disk adjusted its charge, automatically analyzing its subject to deliver a greater, more appropriate charge, keeping the strange man on the ground, writhing in pain. However, despite his helplessness, he kept on growing, developing impressive looking muscles that would make him an instant contender for the Colosseum. The Grandmaster'll probably make him fight his lady friend though. Too bad.

Then the green man looked up to glare at Scrapper 142 with a feral snarl.

Only reflexes ingrained so deep into a Valkyrie, that even millennia of heavy drinking could not dull, saved her as he suddenly appeared in her face.

-Alien Sun-

Grinding her teeth in agony, Black Widow forced herself to move. Push right arm down, now the left; raise your head…

It was bad.

Hulk was losing.

The woman who had met and attacked them was too quick, skilled, and strong; ducking under blows to deliver targeted hits of her own to unbalance Hulk, or hit him in the armpits, joints, gut, or other vulnerable points. A powerhouse honed into a lethal, veteran warrior. Indeed, she fought like a female Thor almost. Which says all I need to know about how dangerous she is.

Although that had been obvious from the start.

Nonthreatening people did not walk up to strangers who were surrounded by dead bodies, and drink nonchalantly while complimenting you for doing a good job at killing. Never mind all the other little clues, such as the obvious alcoholism and unkempt appearance (the hair being the biggest clue), while walking into a combat zone with visible arrogance. Someone unafraid of violence, or committing it, with little regard for their own self.

From what little she said, Black Widow could identify a clear detachment from events unless something managed to vaguely interest her, and even then, their 'friend' (despite her obvious fighting prowess) seemed to have a short attention span.

Ergo, too much like one Natalia Romanova. A woman who had perished when she had decided that death was preferable to a life of servitude to the KGB. And a woman who had been reborn before that vow could become literal, by the hand of an archer who had offered her true and genuine friendship.

At least I hope I've become better than that, she thought.

Ruthlessly, Black Widow smothered that self-doubt. Something was wrong with Hulk, given the darkened veins covering his body, and the lack of coordination. The pain jolting through her own body was answer enough to that. They had both been struck by some kind of compliance and/or taser device meant to leave you helpless.

Except why am I still able to move? Any electrical shock able to hurt the Hulk would leave me smoking. . . . My suit! Stark, I forgive you for your useless Quinjet!

Feeling more confident, Black Widow levered herself further upright. Her Widow Bites and Batons delivered an electrical shock powerful enough to damage even Ultron's Sentry Drones, despite the genius AI's incentive to make them as resistant to electrical charges as possible, given her, Clint, and Thor's usage of it. Her weapons, made by one Tony Stark, were just that powerful.

By necessity, the cat-suit she was wearing had been designed in turn to resist such a shock.

When their attacker had thrown those disks, Black Widow had felt it pierce right through the toughened material —she was certain it was on the part of her outfit that covered her throat— and into her flesh —and apparently it was staying stuck into Hulk's nigh-impenetrable skin too— just before inflicting her with this pain and additional body spasms. Yet if her protections were somehow already able to dampen the charge when it was supposed to paralyze her . . .

Remembering how she had beaten Alexander Pierce's booby-trapped 'security badges,' she slapped a Widow Bite right to whatever was stuck to her neck to short it out.

The sudden surge in voltage cut off even her ability to scream in agony.

And it did not stop.

-Alien Sun-

A kick to the jaw made Hulk spin around momentarily while still off-balance, to see Tasha shuddering on the ground.

Snarling terrible fury, Hulk turned back to Hulk's enemy.

While whatever enemy had done to Banner caused Hulk pain, and Enemy's sneaky tricks and hits caused more, it was still only pain. And at the bottom of what mind Hulk possessed, that only made Hulk feel satisfaction.

Pain only fueled Hulk's anger.

Hulk was always angry, powerful.

Hulk was free to vent it now, and enjoy the fresh air. . . . Although something worried Hulk about that, and not just that this was a stinky place.

Then Enemy stopped hitting Hulk to start hitting Enemy's hands together.

. . . Hulk would call Enemy, Angry Girl. For all that smirk on Angry Girl's face, Hulk knew Angry Girl was also angry. Just not angry like Hulk.

Then Angry Girl's arms lit up with blue lights before Angry Girl pointed Angry Girl's fists at Hulk, and Hulk roared in agony as Hulk felt himself being shot in the back. Hard.

-Alien Sun-

You are truly a contender for the Grandmaster, Scrapper 142 thought as the remotes on her gauntlets finally started working. I'll make so many units off you and your little friend!

On cue, the remote-controlled gatling guns had deployed from Warsong to open fire on the green man, shooting him in the back with enough fire-power to vaporize a small army already.

Unfortunately, it appeared her personal ship might not be enough. There was no sign of flesh being burnt off or damaged in any way, so she knew it was not doing any serious damage yet. Moreover, this angry man was strangely resistant to the Obedience Disks. For crying out loud, he shouldn't even be moving! Oh well.

First, a quick order onto the holographic controls on her gauntlets to order Warsong to maintain fire on its current target.

Reaching behind her back, Scrapper 142 pulled out a baton that extended and expanded into a long pole with a spiked ball attached. Swinging it at a knee joint, she brought him down headfirst into a snap-kick.

Guess I'll have to get dirty after all.

-Alien Sun-

Security feature, Black Widow groaned to herself as she forced herself awake from what the compliance device had done to her. Tough enough that my Widow Bites weren't enough to affect it, and smart enough to punish me for resisting. Clearly advanced tech. It's back to the original voltage now too, just in case.

Bet it'll do the same or worse if I try and cut it out, and that assumes I won't bleed to death from ripping out my own throat. Not to mention nerve damage if it's stuck inside of me.

She looked up just in time to see Hulk fall onto his back as he was smashed in the jaw by an impractically long mace. Although if it works, it's not really 'impractical.'

Propping himself up on one elbow, Hulk visibly spat out a tooth, before slowly standing back up.

Strangely, the woman did nothing to stop him, which made no sense at first to Black Widow. While it was possible she was planning to outlast him and wear him down, she already had the initiative. Moreover, Hulk's darkened veins and shaking from his own compliance device made it clear he was fighting off some impressive pain, which along with the high-powered weaponry now raining down on Hulk, gave her all the edge she needed.

Unless . . . it's because she wants to make clear her dominance? Stretch out a fun fight? Or is she just enjoying his pain on some twisted level?

Frantically Black Widow's green eyes flittered about as she tried to figure out what to do.

It took precious seconds, but she did it.

Grabbing the explosives that were still lying beside her, she removed a detonator and one piece of what Stark called C4-Ultra, and awkwardly threw the rest ahead of her; barely managing fifteen meters, which was frankly pathetic.

Then she inched towards the closest, and meanest looking, gun her earlier attackers had been using.

-Alien Sun-

Not much longer, Scrapper 142 thought with satisfaction. The green man's movements were becoming increasingly slow and uncoordinated. Then it would just be a matter of bagging him up, and then his lady friend. Almost a pity really. It's nice to have someone I can keep hitting without killing them; and he's doing his best to make it a challenge too. Maybe I'll pay him a visit in the colosseum afterwards for a little spar. Heh, why not Red as—

With a loud 'BANG,' the rate of fire from Warsong halved.

Seeing the lack of lights from her gatling guns, she quickly circled the green man to see his woman had picked up one of the more advanced guns from one of the Scrappers who had attacked her earlier, firing high-energy shots at the other turret; aiming for the thin —and lightly armoured— spur that connected it to her ship. Red's aim was bad, except she should not have been able to even fire in the first place. Were both Obedience Disks defective!?

Feet hammering the ground, Scrapper 142 zoomed towards the woman, aiming to knock her unconscious before she cost her any more money. Repairs for the Warsong were worth several good drinks alone!

Fire and noise exploded beside her and Scrapper 142 went sailing through the air.

-Alien Sun-

Fear was an old friend of Black Widow's. Throughout her life she had suffered it, yet also embraced it. For like pain, it meant she was alive. Which meant there was always an opportunity to cause her tormentors to be afraid.

Whether she found herself tied to a chair while being threatened, or imprisoned by an insane Ultron —Had that really only been a few hours ago?— or whatever, so long as she was alive, there was always the slightest opportunity to turn the tables. And she always had.

Ever since graduating from the Red Room, there had been only one exception to that rule, and that had been the terror when the Hulk had tried to kill her within the cramped confines of the Helicarrier.

Here? Now?

A torture device trying to make her submit, while shooting with an unfamiliar weapon to take out turrets, while a possibly Thor-class enhanced individual was trying to kill her? Not a drop of sweat.

Her skills and experience were rising to the occasion, and most importantly, she was an Avenger. That meant she was not alone in saving the day. In fact, her teammate was the Hulk himself this time. In fact, usually he was the one to bail them out when they ran into the heavy hitters like tanks, bunkers, or whatever. Now it was her turn to return the favour.

Plus, she still had a few tricks left to play.

The mystery woman was so focused on Black Widow that she had not spotted the bag of explosives amongst all the junk, and Black Widow had been hiding the detonator (awkwardly) in one hand while still firing. Unfortunately, while setting off a bag of explosives as your enemy runs by them might be a good idea, doing so when you yourself are only fifteen meters away is less so.

'BOOM!'

Once more, Black Widow fought to stay conscious, finding herself now aching and bruised from the concussive force of the C4-Ultra.

Undaunted.

Pushing all distractions aside, she levelled the weapon –despite how the awkwardness of the strange design made it hard to aim—to target the ship's second and last gun to—

Hulk ripped it off with a snarl.

Clearly the Big Guy had been tired of that ship shooting at him, and while his back was starting to bleed, he was still as relentless as ever.

His head swiveled towards their attacker who was now back on her feet, except Black Widow managed to gasp out, despite the ongoing pain as electricity jolted through her, "Hulk! Here!"

Growling, he quickly came to her, and she managed to hand him her final shaped charge. "Hold it to your neck where it hurts the most. This'll sting, but help."

Puzzled, he complied, and she set that one off too, his hand containing the blast to a mere muffled 'Boom.'

Snarling in pain, green blood dripping briefly from his neck, Hulk turned on Black Widow in betrayed rage.

-Alien Sun-

Tasha hurt Hulk! Hulk had trusted Tasha like Banner had and Tasha tricked Hulk and now Hulk would—

Hulk stopped. Hulk's body no longer hurt, and was doing what it was supposed to too. Tasha had helped Hulk.

"Cute," Angry Girl said as Angry Girl walked up, graceful like Tasha, but strong like Banner's Hammer-Friend. "Guess we do this the hard way."

Angry Girl swung Angry Girl's weapon at blitzing speed and with all Angry Girl's strength.

Hulk caught it.

Slowly, to drive home just how ANGRY Hulk was, Hulk pushed the weapon aside so Angry Girl could see all of Hulk's teeth barred in a snarl.

Angry Girl flashed Angry Girl's own white teeth in a strained smile. "Hey there," Angry Girl said in a soothing tone like Tasha's, when Tasha wanted a man to do something for Tasha.

Hulk's fist met Angry Girl's face.

-Alien Sun-

"Hulk! Stop!" yelled Black Widow again. Still he did not seem to hear her.

Their attacker was on the ground now, with Hulk standing over her and raining down his fists as he pummeled the life out of her.

"Hulk! Stop! I need her help!"

That got his attention, and he paused to glance over his shoulder at her.

"Bring her here. Please," gasped out Black Widow, the electrical current driving through her body not abating.

Obediently, if reluctantly, Hulk dragged the woman over to her. Not stopping to check for a pulse, Black Widow's shaking hands feverishly fumbled across the bruised body, until finding an electronic device. Gambling on what was the 'off' switch, she hit a button.

Sweet release.

Glancing down at a small sound, Black Widow saw that there was a little metallic disk on the ground now.

Sighing with relief, Black Widow rolled away from it and onto her back, eyes closed. "Thanks Big Guy," she whispered.

Sucking in deep breaths, she reasserted her self-control.

"Tasha," Hulk rumbled. Then again with insistence, and . . . concern, "Tasha!"

Lids shooting open, Black Widow took in the sight of holes in the sky.

Holes dropping stuff.

Stuff like junk.

Rolling up into a standing position while instinctively picking up her dropped batons and 'appropriated' blaster rifle, for the first time Black Widow truly took the time to take stock of her new environment. Including the inhuman face of one of the bodies lying dead at her feet, mask removed.

Swallowing, Natasha Romanoff struggled for a minute to reassert her apathetic persona. The woman unfazed by anything.

That particular mask had taken quite a few beatings since Nick Fury got the bright idea to form the Avengers Initiative.

Running up a literal hill of debris, she took in the horizon from all sides.

As far as the eye could see, there were mounds and mounds of garbage. In some places they came together like rolling hills, whilst in others they were surrounded by what looked like lakes of water.

However, that alone did not truly depict how alien this all was.

Again, there were purple, red, and blue holes in the sky that were raining down a seemingly endless stream of stuff. Easily a dozen of these holes at first glance.

And on her right the view was dominated by thick dark clouds circling a simply massive hole that seemed to bleed red light. Even from this distance it seemed larger than the artificial meteor she had been fighting on less than thirty minutes ago.

. . . It was thoughts like that —ones which should be surreal but were real— that nearly made Natasha want to pull a Stark, and throw a party while drinking so much booze the world blurred into the oblivion.

Oh, and to her left was some sort of city. Except the skyscrapers she could glimpse were both taller —as far as she could estimate the distance— and more angular than any Black Widow had ever seen.

Standing beside her, Hulk was clearly as confused as she was.

Looking at him, she declared, "I need Bruce."

"No! No Banner!" barked Hulk.

Stopping herself, Black Widow thought of what to say. She could not risk upsetting the Hulk. It clicked together. "Look, I'm scared," she readily admitted. "This is like nothing I've ever seen before. I have no idea what's going on. And we don't know if there are any more threats here like her," gesturing at their downed would-be captor, "that we'll have to deal with.

"I get it. This place will set Bruce off, right?" she said. "One minute we're on Earth where it's normal, sorta, and now we're here and aliens are attacking us. He'll get so agitated he might end up changing right back into you again, so it'll be all for nothing. Don't worry, I'll keep him calm."

The stormy expression on his face was visibly mutinous.

"Look," she flatly said, devoid of any emotion. Not daring to let her own stress get the better of her. "Like I said, I have no idea where we are or what is happening. We need the smart guy right now to figure it out."

Huffing with deep breaths, Hulk turned and then stomped in a circle, barely keeping his footing as he started a mini-landslide, and until he calmly (sorta) stood to face her again.

"Okay," Black Widow softly said, slowly and gently holding out one hand. "Sorry Big Guy, but sun's getting real low." For an instant she remembered how she had pushed Bruce into the crater. Quietly, she murmured, "I need the Other Guy."

Their fingertips touched, then he put the back of his hand into her palm, before she traced her fingers down his wrists and to the tips again.

Except this time, he hesitated, with greater reluctance in his expression than since they had first started doing this. "Please," she whispered.

Something flickered through his eyes, and then a moment later he was stumbling back as the transformation began again.

-Alien Sun-

"I'm freaking out!" gasped Bruce. He had a very sinking feeling he was standing on an alien planet.

"Hey!" Hands grabbed the sides of his face to pull him almost lip to lip with Nat. "Focus on my face. My voice. Calm down, and think about what you've seen. You're a scientist. Use all six of your Ph.D.'s."

"It's seven!" he automatically snapped back in stress and pride, before his brain rebooted itself. "And you already know that," Bruce added with some residual strain.

"Good to see you're thinking again," she smirked. "Now, work with me here."

Bruce closed his eyes, slowed his breathing and calmed his heartrate, calling upon meditative exercises he had completely forgotten in his panic. "Alright," he said after five minutes, looking at her again. Trying to ignore how he could smell her, her breath so close he could feel it on his face. "I need to see the Quinjet's logs."

Then his analytical side caught up, and noticed how ragged her breath was, and the slightest tension about her eyes. The last time he had seen her like that was when he was stitching her sides back up after she had been stabbed by a knife, while she teased with him about how she now definitely could not go around wearing bikinis any more.

"You're hurt," he concluded aloud.

Wincing slightly —although Bruce could tell it was an act, that the pain was far from getting the best of her, except she wanted him to focus on her, and not the impossibility of where they were— Natasha shook her head. "Just some aches. Nothing broken." Seeing how he was unconvinced, she just gave him a slight glare. "I'm fine."

Unfazed, Bruce slipped one arm under hers to physically support her, and guided them both towards, well, he did not know exactly what it was, outside of that it was something flat, and looked stable. "Sure, sure. Just sit here for a moment so I can give you a quick look before we go sifting through garbage anymore and risk infection."

"You're the one going barefoot," she groused.

Indeed, he was wearing only his adjustable underwear and pants, walking around on only his tough, calloused feet, with no shirt on. It was chilly. Still, when on the run in South America, he had walked through jungles full of mud, animals, and insects a few times, so he was more than capable of handling a few discomforts. It was not like he could catch diseases anymore either, one of the few, slim, silver linings of the Other Guy.

"Fine." She looked away for the moment. "You're getting a check-up too. You're not bleeding as bad as the Hulk was, but your back doesn't look good."

Bruce only grunted back, already planning to look for some clothes once he was sure she was okay, and when they had some answers to where they were.

Of course, he was already pretty sure of where they were, even if he was hoping to find some evidence to prove himself wrong. That they were still on Earth.

And if he was right, then maybe they could find something to show them where in the cosmos they were.

Once she was sitting down, he quickly ran his hands up and down her legs, felt her sides and arms, before finally focusing on her head. After a long moment staring into her eyes with a light from her belt to be sure there was no sign of a concussion, he then peeled back the neck of her suit to study where she had been punctured, and gently rubbed the little prick-holes.

It was her bemused voice that snapped him back to reality.

"You do realize what this looks like, right?"

Stumbling back, Bruce realized he had been basically feeling her up while half-naked, and tripped on something behind him. Her hands snapped out to snag his own before he fell, and pulled him back up.

An amused twinkle in her eye, she then tenderly turned him around. "My turn, Doc."

Blushing, he felt her hands examine the skin of his back. "Alright," he heard her say. "It's already cleaning up fast. Like Thor those few times he actually got a scratch. Mostly bruises now. At least now we know if the Hulk's hurt bad enough, it'll transfer to you if we don't give it enough time. Alright, now I need you to look at me."

Obediently he did so. "Smile." Once more he obeyed, and she shook her head in wonder. "You've already re-grown a tooth somehow. Going to make a girl jealous."

"What can I say?" he shrugged, having readjusted to the flow of her gentle teasing.

Then as one, both their expressions became serious once more. They were still in the middle of a mission.

-Alien Sun-

The Avenger's Quinjet was covered in visible scratches that breached the hull, one gaping hole by the back, along with sparks flickering through access panels that had been banged open, among other blatant safety hazards. Suffice to say, it did nothing to calm Bruce's nerves.

Natasha gave it once over, and proclaimed, "Not fit for higher altitudes, yet should still work. And we've got her ship too," jerking a thumb in the general direction of the person the Hulk had beaten unconscious. Bruce had checked for a pulse, although he was not confident about brain damage.

Walking up to the security console, Bruce put his hand down upon the print reader. The computer beeped, and a neutral woman's voice said, "Voice activation required."

"Banner."

"Welcome, strongest Avenger," it declared.

-Alien Sun-

"Strongest Avenger?" Black Widow repeated. "Dare I ask what Stark put down for me?"
"Probably scariest Avenger," Bruce said, before hesitating and looking at her. "No offense."

"None taken," she smiled. "Anything useful?"

"Uhm, not yet," the scientist said, turning his attention back to the screen, scrolling through whatever data was available.

While Bruce was doing what he did best, Black Widow turned her attention back to collecting and cataloging what weapons and equipment they had available to use. Then to her surprise she saw something out of place. It looked like a full-sized door that had been knocked slightly ajar, except it was not on any of the schematics she had memorized. In fact, she had been told it was only a small cupboard (at waist level) for extra winter gear, and some magazines–which none of the Avengers were ever inclined to read anyways.

"Bruce?" she called out.

"Yes?" He spun around with clear concern they were under attack.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at the mystery.

"Huh?" he said with obvious confusion. "That's just the door to the bathroom."

"The bathroom," she repeated.

"Uh yeah. Y'know, to go, to, the bathroom."

Black Widow stormed forward and wrenched the door open. Indeed, inside was a fully functional, if cramped given how little space was available, bathroom. There was even toilet paper that had "Hail HYDRA" embossed on each square.

"This was not on the blueprints Stark gave us," she whispered with a dangerous edge. "Or ever mentioned."

Realizing something was off, Bruce nervously rubbed his hands together. "You mean, you didn't know?"

"No. In fact, I, and Steve, Clint, and Thor that one time, had to go elsewhere to go, as you put it, to the bathroom. Usually in the woods, or some deserted alleyway given where HYDRA likes their little bases. And we couldn't risk trusting their own facilities. Oh, and by the way, the first time we didn't know we had to bring our own toilet paper. Stark knew we were bringing and sharing our own afterwards."

Bruce winced. Smart man indeed, she thought.

"Of course, Stark's got a toilet built right into his suit. And yet the whole time there was a bathroom for the rest of us. Right here. Just not on any of the obviously doctored blueprints Stark gave us. Or mentioned on the tour he personally gave us all." She cocked her head. "You weren't there for that."

"Noooo," Bruce weakly said. "He gave me a private one." And was usually left on his own during missions. Left alone with the Quinjet.

A fragile silence hovered.

"Get us back home so I can show him what I think of his little joke," seethed Black Widow.

"I—I'll get right on that," Bruce promised, whirling around, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Oh Tony, you're in for it now," he murmured.

-Alien Sun-

Earth

With a start, Tony snapped back to consciousness to find himself entombed in darkness.

With a gasp he realized he was in his suit with the power out —probably entirely drained—and lying face-down in the dirt.

With a touch of desperation, he rolled onto his back and ripped off his faceplate, sucking in deep breaths. There was a smell of water that reminded him of how his last thought was flying through a massive wave over a lake while dodging falling debris.

It was all coming back to him now, including how he had drained his suit of nearly every drop to blow up that city-slash-meteor.

With some effort given his heavy armour, he stood up –bruised and aching from blowing up a city in his own face, and was definitely going to need some quality time with Pepper in a hot tub—and took in his surroundings.

While he already had a good idea of what he would be looking at (seeing as how he was not dead), he wanted to savour the view.

Because hey, no massive crater or Armageddon!

Looks like the world was saved! Yay Avengers!

Heroes: 1. Ultron: 0.

Then Tony processed how he was also taking in a badly devastated nation. All because of his little lovechild gone rotten.

When Rhodey finally found him, he was still sitting on the beach where he had crashed, etching the sight deep into his memory.

-Alien Sun-

Sakaar

"You're positive?" Black Widow double-checked despite herself.

"Yeah," replied Bruce, adjusting his new jacket. While she had been in the bathroom, he had found out what he needed to know, and had then discovered some of Tony's clothes lying around and put them on. However, he was a bit dismayed to realize that he now only possessed a single pair of his special stretching pants and underwear.

(What? He did not appreciate going commando, and waking up to find he had stretched his undergarments to the point of uselessness was beyond irritating.)

"We're definitely on an alien planet," she sighed as she repeated his confirmation. Honestly, they had both already figured that out, yet it was best to be sure to keep them from spiraling into denial. "Can we just patch up the Quinjet and fly back through the portal that brought us here? It's right above us, right?"

"No! No." Bruce insisted. "Not only would the Quinjet tear itself apart this time, I can't tell if the Einstein-Rosen Bridge is stationary or not on the other end!"

Translation: if they tried to fly into the wormhole, and somehow did not die trying, he had no idea where they would end up. Including whether or not they would come out in a volcano, or deep space. Terrific.

"We'll have to head to the city we saw then," she decided aloud. "If we stay here, we're likely to be attacked again. Next time, they might be smarter about it too. Hopefully it'll be safer there, and we'll be able to find some information."

"And get help," he smiled.

Black Widow gave him a flat look.

"You don't think so?" Bruce guessed.

"I think we need to talk to our new guests some more, particularly the last one."

The scientist winced. He had a good idea what the kind of 'talk' she was thinking of would entail, and this time Black Widow would not be playing the vulnerable woman delicately drawing out information. Of course, he was well aware she could do the same from a dominating position, without actually resorting to physical violence. Unless such actions became necessary.

In today's world, the world the Avengers both protected and wished to build into a place where all were safe and free, torture was, at its simplest, wrong. It was something that the 'bad guys' did. When people with power and authority would deliberately and methodically inflict pain on helpless people in their custody, displaying no regard whatsoever for their fundamental rights. Rights which, despite whatever governments spouted about terrorists, every human either had, or every human was denied.

Unfortunately, there were times when saving lives took priority. Situations where the Avengers found themselves with too little time available, had already exhausted every available option, and concluded they had no choice but to make exceptions. Because as much as they might wish otherwise, they had still not managed to help create a world where it was unnecessary. During their war with HYDRA since S.H.I.E.L.D.'s collapse, on three separate occasions the Avengers had needed immediate intel if they were to save lives, and Captain America had ordered Black Widow to use torture if she deemed it necessary.

She had.

During those 'sessions,' Black Widow had proven she was skilled enough to know perfectly well when her victims were telling the truth, trying to trick her, or just screaming out whatever stories they could think of just make the pain stop.

However, their leader had also made clear that they were to all address the potential consequences of this together as a team. All the consequences.

While Black Widow locked her victims in a room with her, the rest of Avengers had been watching from another room. At first, Bruce (apparently the only one of the Avengers) had not fully understood why they had all been made to observe, so Steve Rogers had spelled it out for him.

First, for liability. Not for the HYDRA agents, but for Black Widow. With them as witnesses, they could defend her from any claims by government authorities that she had gone too far in getting the necessary answers. Or that she had forced confessions given under duress, which could later be deemed illegal, and evidence inadmissible due to the circumstances.

Second, so that none of the heroes could distance themselves from what 'necessary evil' involved. Despite the temptation, and despite how S.H.I.E.L.D. would have handled it, the Avengers would not look away and dump the dirty work onto someone else without knowing –or asking for— the details. They would not permit themselves to politicalize, downgrade, or rationalize away the word 'torture' into 'enhanced interrogation.'

Most importantly, if the Avengers were going to compromise themselves, then they were not going to try and hide from it and pretend the 'nasty stuff' had never happened. They were all complicit in it.

That way, after the mission was all over, when they looked at the people they had saved, and kept free, they could decide for themselves if it was worth it, or if they had gone too far. Steve Rogers wanted to be sure the Avengers questioned themselves, to prevent them from becoming –no matter how 'impossible' that might seem— the very people they had fought against: those who claimed that through violence and fear they were making the world a better place.

In the end, none of them, not even Bruce, felt that they had reached that point. All of the Avengers still believed they were heroes, and capable of pulling themselves back from the brink if necessary. Still, on those nights afterwards, they all tended to stay awake because they could not sleep well. They would help support each other –yes, even Natasha, which was one of the various things that made Bruce realize there was more to her— when they all were not entirely comfortable with the methods used. And they would talk long into the morning on what they could do next time to do their jobs properly. How in future they would do it more responsibly, without having to lower themselves to the same level as their enemies.

"Don't worry," she assured him, snapping Bruce out of his reflections. "I'm not going to torture them. Especially the Big Guy's new sparring partner."

Blinking in surprise, he just stared at her.

Holding up a hand, Black Widow raised a finger for each point. "First, we don't want to make a bad first impression here. Might already be too late, but you never know. Second, she fought the Hulk, so she has high pain tolerance to begin with, and is pretty durable, so I probably couldn't rig up something to hurt her before she wakes up in the first place. Third, given how little she seems to care for her own general welfare, I doubt she's the type to keep quiet to protect anyone else. Only herself, and even then only barely because she does still want to live to some degree. Fourth, the first group were opportunists, so they'll be even more willing to talk to save their skins. And finally," and now her eyes hardened, "we're not in a crisis, and it's only our lives on the line, so I'm not going to do anything extreme."

Wincing, Bruce looked away. "Sorry. I shouldn't have, I mean . . . sorry."

She waved a hand is dismissal. "Forget about it. We're both still shaken up from everything we've gone through today, and after fighting her like that, I see how you could've misunderstood me." She stopped, clearly deep in thought for a few minutes. Still a little ashamed, Bruce patiently said nothing as she worked through whatever was concerning her.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Black Widow sat down on one of the seats, and let it out. Like him, she was drained of energy from the fight, the last several fights one after another in fact, yet tense and stressed from their absurd situation. Seriously, leaving a battle with genocidal robots, only to be sucked up by a wormhole and dumped into what appeared to literally be the garbage dump of the universe. What were the odds?

"Before we start," she said at last, head bowed, "we've got to figure out where we're at."
"Uhm, sorry? I already said. We're on an alien planet, and—"

"You know perfectly well what I mean." Despite how harsh her words could have been, the softness in her voice prevented that. "We've spent this whole time dancing around it, hiding our feelings by talking to each other in metaphors, referring to a 'friend.' And now we're stuck on a whole different world, and we're all that we've got." She looked up at him. "One way or another, we've got to work this out so we know where we stand with each other. Otherwise this'll all just fall apart." Jaw flexing with uncharacteristic emotion, she got up and walked towards Bruce with her hand outstretched. "My name is Natasha Romanoff. I would like to enter a romantic relationship with you, because I care about you, and the Big Guy too, though just not as much as you. So I'd like to see how far we can take it, if we actually work at it. Especially since I'm sick of the fact we were both so awkward and hesitant about this before, that it takes being marooned on an alien planet for me to get the message and just talk to you about it."

For a long moment Bruce just stared at Natasha's hand as if he did not recognize it, and then accepted it. "My name is Bruce Banner. I think you're the most fascinating woman I've ever met. You're smart, strong, confident, funny, and keep me on my toes.

"I'd be happy to be in a relationship with you, except that I'm afraid the Other Guy complicates everything to the point I don't know if it'll work or not."

Natasha just cocked an eyebrow at him, knowing he had more to say. Otherwise she would have delved right into countering that. Besides, if this was going to work out, she knew she would have to give him the space he needed to figure some things out on his own. Just as he would do in a heartbeat for her.

Letting her go, Bruce rubbed his hands in thought before meeting her gaze again, while she crossed her arms. "Alright, Sokovia and you pushing me down a hole . . . I don't like what you did to me. In fact, I'm still kinda mad about it." A finger shot up to stop her from saying anything. "Not to mention how unnerving it can get with how seemingly casual you are about changing us back and forth. However, I do know that aside from Tony, there's no one else I'd rather be with in this sort of situation than you. Although frankly that's because he'd be more usef—" Natasha cocked an eyebrow. "—I mean pretty handy for getting off an alien world. My point is, that I still seem to trust you. Want to be with you."

Natasha merely said, "For the sake of continuing this discussion, I'll ignore that bit about Stark. Anything else?"

Drawing in a calming breath, he replied. "I wish there'd been another way, but you were right. As much as it upset me, you did exactly what you should've done. I would have regretted not saving lives, but I still think the threat—" He paused as a flash of memory went through him, making his stop in open shock. "The Other Guy listened to you when you told him to stop from killing that woman," he whispered aloud. "Nat, I—"

He broke off, and his eyes glazed over. Eyebrow still cocked, Natasha just stared at Bruce, recognizing that expression to mean he was solving some complex problem.

Coughing into his fist, Bruce came out of it. "I just realized I'm being an idiot." Straightening his shoulders, this time it was him offering his hand. "Natasha Romanoff, can I be your," he hesitated before continuing, "I'm not sure how exactly to label what kind of relationship people with our lifestyles can manage, but can I be your boyfriend?"

It took all of her self-control to not so much as blink.

"That's a sudden shift," she dryly noted.

Shrugging with embarrassment, Bruce tried to tease her a little. Awkwardly. "Well, I'm twice your age so I know a few more things? I've even had a fiancé before at one time."

"Oh, this should be good," she smiled. "And I don't think you're as," her voice shifted an octave, "experienced as I am." Her grin widened as he looked away with a slight touch of red to his face.

"What I mean is," he said after getting his voice under control, "we don't have to decide if we're going to be together for the rest of our lives today. Only if we want to see if it'll work out."

Bruce gestured at the alien sky visible through the cockpit with his left hand, while his right was still extended towards her. "And I have a feeling that if we're going to get back home, we're going to have to learn if we can work it all out or not. What do you think?" he asked as he turned back, and she grabbed him by the side of the face and pulled him to her.

Her lips brushed against his lips, and pulled back before he could react, giving him a look that promised more to come. "Sounds like a plan."

It was not a promise, not a guarantee that they would make it work. Merely the commitment to see if it could work.

Which, frankly, is what all couples essentially did these days.

. . . They really had been idiots up to this point.

But for now they had some raiders and a slaver to question. With prejudice.

~~To Be Continued…~~

Author Notes:

For the record, this is not going to be a story where the local Asgardian will cheerfully help the Avengers. There is no Hela on the loose, nor Loki to force the last Valkyrie to confront the memories she has spent literally (given Thor's comments about wanting to be one when he was young) thousands of years trying to run from. In fact, I find it telling that we never hear her name in Thor: Ragnarok, she is only addressed as Scrapper 142, or as a Valkyrie. Her name is Brunnhilde, yet she never introduces herself as such, and is only called 'Valkyrie' in the credits. For all intents and purposes, Bruce and Natasha are dealing with a lady who is just as messed up as they are.

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Next Chapter: 'Scrapper 142'

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Recommended fics:

(This is in addition to the ones I have recommended throughout Avengers: The Impossible Child. Basically new ones I have found since).

"Never Say Never," by DarkHeart89

"A Message For the Avengers: Ragnarok," by Thyeness

"Empty Skies," by OverratedPendragon

"Wakandan One-shots," by Vaneria Potter

"One of the Girls," by KaydenceRei

"Battle Lines," by NeverMessWithTeddyBears

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Please Review, and I will get back to you!