Black Widow's Spider


Natasha Romanoff had been conditioned to be a merciless assassin as well as a spy since before she could remember. She had learned how to kill, how to cause a commotion without arousing suspicion or unnecessary attention, how to interrogate, how to lie, how to swindle classified files, and how to always hit her targets before they hit her. To sum it up, Natasha Romanoff was well aware that security was a luxury that she could never allow herself to enjoy. She always needed to be alert, always needed to be watching.

Before she became an Avenger, a group of the world's most vital weapons against powerful forces, she had been a brutal monster. She regretted that large chunk of her life. Nevertheless, it made her a lot of enemies. Despite having a group of freakishly impressive friends to give her aid, Natasha never stopped using her training to be fully conscious of those around her. Some may call it paranoia, but Natasha knew that you couldn't be too careful and, that asking her to relax was like asking her to stop breathing. Her mind just had to work in overdrive in order to work at all.

So as one might expect, she certainly knew when she was being watched.

She had a sneaking suspicion the other night at the tower, one of the rare occasions where most of the Avengers gathered for an even more rare moment of leisure. The back of her neck tingled, like somebody's eyes were stuck to her. It felt like somebody was breathing right down her neck, yet she couldn't find anybody there.

It wasn't just her, she feared, that was being watched. She felt as if the Avengers as a group were somehow being followed. Without any proof other than her intuition, most of her teammates brushed it off as paranoia. However, Tony did brag about the new security measures he was getting ready to install into the tower, but Natasha was only half listening to him at the time.

But now, the feeling was unmistakable, and Natasha learned that trusting your gut was the best way to stay alive. She was walking down a crowded street in New York, her hands stuffed into her leather jacket pockets. Her brow was furrowed, her cold eyes darting frantically back and forth from civilians as they passed by, chatting on their phones, checking their timepieces, or simply sipping on a cup of coffee. That's what Natasha had intended on doing. Grabbing some coffee at a familiar cafe she had seen, but she couldn't now. Not when somebody was definitely following her.

Natasha didn't want to lead whoever it was back to the tower or to any civilians for fear of people getting harmed. In case the stalker was genuinely dangerous, she couldn't let whomever it was corner her either. Natasha opted for a more direct approach.

She turned into a darkened ally between two shoppe's that she knew little about. Walking down the alley made her muscles tense, ready to pounce. Not only was she alone in here, but the smell of New York rats nibbling at their literal garbage dinner irritated her. The Black Widow- her more well-known name- looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody was looking. Fast as lightning, after she had approached the ally's dead end, she used her legs like springs to bounce off the two brick walls enclosing her in the ally to wall-jump and parkour up to the rooftops of one of the shoppe's. She had a pretty good view up here. She didn't like that it was still so close to civilians' hustle and bustle, but she didn't know what else to do. Her internal radar was blaring like crazy, warning her, screaming at her, that something bad was looking at her, licking its lips at its prey.

"It's just little old me," Natasha said to no one in particular. She turned on her heels, the wind blowing her red hair back wild. She wondered if she would die if she fell off the roof. "Come on, I don't bite much. You're not afraid of me, are you?" She gave a mock grin, hoping to induce the stalker into revealing themselves. It didn't always work, but it did this time.

Natasha felt a presence behind her where she had been facing before. Quicker than the speed of light, the assassin ripped the gun tucked into her jeans from under her shirt, whirled around, and pointed the barrel right at the masked stranger before her.

She couldn't see its face, but the stalker was about an inch shorter than her, perhaps maybe even her height. Whoever it was had broad shoulders, and she could simply tell from the physique that it was a male. He was wearing a suit that was all black, with baggy cargo pants and combat boots. Black leather gloves covered his slender fingers, and a logo of what resembled an arachnid was displayed on the stalker's chest like some sort of branding. She didn't see any weapons on him, which in itself was conflicting. Perhaps this guy, whoever, wasn't here to throw down. Not yet anyway.

"Why are you following me?" Natasha asked softly, but her tone and demeanor were very firm and commanding. She clicked the bullet into place, making sure the stalker could hear it loud and clear.

The masked stalker didn't reply, just stood there with his gloved fists clenched. She noticed how relaxed the stalker's body seemed. He was trying to hide his intentions with his body language. Whoever it was was doing a pretty mediocre job at it. She figured he was trained.

"I don't really like repeating myself," Natasha hissed. "You talk or else you lose the ability to. Why. Are. You. Following Me.?" She stressed each word, gritting her teeth at how uncomfortable this made her feel. Perhaps she should page the tower. She would have to be discreet about it, though.

The masked stalker slowly and purposefully raised his right hand and delicately angled the barrel of her gun away from his chest.

"I'm looking for The Black Widow." The voice sounded unnatural. Too deep and robotic. Almost like Darth Vaders. Whoever it was, they were using their suit's built-in voice changer. "I have probable cause to suspect you might be her."

"Well," Natasha shrugged. "I'm not gonna try to deny it, since I'm pretty sure you'd know if I was lying."

"Smart choice," the unsettling masked voice replied. "Tell me, why do they call you the Black Widow?"

Natasha smelled danger. It emanated from this person's posture, words, and demeanor. This person was undoubtedly here to fight. She couldn't be caught off guard.

"Maybe because of the one thing me and the actual spider have in common," Natasha said. "We're both exceedingly lethal. Now, what do you want?"

The masked figure, again with slow movements, peeled off his leather gloves to reveal pale calloused hands. He tossed the gloves uselessly upon the roof.

"Let's just say...that somebody had arranged for an exterminator."

She stroked first. Seining her leg up, Natasha attempted to kick the stalker in the abdomen, forcing him to fall down, giving her the upper hand. However, the stalker was watching her movements and gripped her leg, yanking it so that she lost her balance and dropped flat on her back, her gun clattering across the roof.

She knew from years of experience never to stay down. She quickly propelled herself to her feet and charged at the masked figure striking it square in the jaw. He stumbled, allowing Natasha to deliver another solid punch, followed by a roundhouse kick before the masked stalker got his bearing and put his defenses up. Natasha intended to back through the defenses with a powerful enough kick, but she needed him to loosen up a bit. Natasha went to land a right hook, but was taken off guard when the masked stalker caught her punch, squeezing her fist hard enough until she heard a sickening crack. Grunting in pain, she used the stalker's knee to give her some momentum so that she could kick the stalker in the chest, making him release his painful hold on her fist.

Whoever it was, he was good. But, not good enough. She realized the masked stalker's style was unpolished and haphazard. In fact, she figured that if it wasn't for the stalker's alarmingly impressive strength and reflexes, she could have defeated him easily.

She just needed one good opening to bring him down. She waited patiently, circling around her for a few moments. He was starting to tighten up more, she needed to catch him off guard.

The masked assassin lunged at her, grabbing her wrist so she couldn't react right away, and bringing his knee up into her gut, knocking all the wind out of her. She tumbled across the roof, but quickly scrambled to her feet. He was there, gripping her hair in his hands and dragging her to her feet. Natasah managed to kick him in the chest, making him back up. She needed that opening

Natasha acted like she was rushing forward to attack. This caused the stalker to open up in order to brace himself. However, instead of lunging at him, Natasha slid underneath the stalker's legs and took out one of her widow bites, fixing it to the back of the stalker's suit, right between his shoulder blades.

He attempted to reach behind him and remove the foreign object, but before he could sonata detonated the bite, causing a non-lethal yet painful electrical current to consume his body. His muscles seized as he cried out in agony, falling onto his knees before collapsing onto the roof. She had used the highest voltage. That should keep him down.

"Let's see what we're dealing with here," Natasha mumbled to herself, whilst wiping the blood from her nose away. She approached the limp form of the masked stalker, standing over him in triumph. "Just another coward behind a mask," she muttered.

She saw the masked stalker attempting to stand. She clenched her fist tightly together, gritting her teeth.

She was ticked off.

How was he even able to move right now?

Natasha gripped the guy by his shoulders and let out a small grunt of effort as she flipped him over. The masked assassin quickly flicked his wrist out in an odd gesture, like one might make if he were in a rock band or something. Next thing Natasaha knew, something sticky slick had wrapped around her fist. She tried to unclench, but the material was strong. But, she couldn't give the assassin time to recover.

She used her widow bite and placed it over the foreign substance. It sent a painful wave from her hand up to her shoulder, but the heat loosened the material and she could break out of it.

She gripped the assassin, still disoriented from the high voltage bite, and landed one blow, another blow, a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sith, a seventh, an eighth over and over again until she was sure that he wouldn't be getting up. She could hear what sounded like pained groans, and for a moment she felt like she was back in that place, but she shook it from her mind. A piece of his mask had ripped off, and she could see the crimson blood dripping from the corners of his lips.

"No more hiding," Natasah snarled. She took up the mask in her hands and gave it one hard tug.

The mask slipped off into her hand, but what she saw made her release the guy's mask and stumble back from shock. She stared down, in confusion, and maybe even a bit in horror at what she was witnessing at the moment. Frozen in place with her lips partly opened, Natasha tried to make sense of it all, but couldn't.

The person who was lying limply on the rooftops with her wasn't some highly trained assassin as she had suspected, not really.

It couldn't be. But she knew well that it could. Her very existence was proof of the particular cruel nature of humanity.

Natasha knelled down next to her stalker just as he began to stir. He opened his eyes. They were hazel brown eyes, not full of malice or hatred. It was a look she knew too well. A look of determination. A brave face that contrasted greatly against the fear in his eyes. She knew, because she saw it every day when she looked at herself in the mirror.

The stalker was breathing heavily, staring at Natasha as if he was awaiting his fate.

"What's your name?" Natasha asked softly after a starring spell.

The boy glared at her with more guts than she figured he had right now. It was not just a look of determined silence. There was almost something defiant about the way the boy was looking at her. He remained silent.

"How old are you?"

Still red from exertion, the boy closed his eyes to try to block everything out. Natasha wouldn't let him.

"How old are you?" she repeated. She gripped his shoulder tighter than she meant to, making him wince, but also intimidating him just enough in pain.

"Does it matter?" he muttered weakly. He turned to the side, groaning, spitting out blood that had accumulated in his mouth. "Just do it already."

Natasha was stunned, staring down at the boys brutalized face, dripping with blood. She had done that. She knew she was lethal, she knew she was deadly, but she hadn't cared much for destroying the bad guys. But his boyish face was throwing her off, making her feel like...

"What are you waiting for?" The boy murmured, gulping. "Finish it."

Then he passed out.

Natasah sunk on her knees. What had just happened? What was going on?

Why on Earth did a teenager just try to kill her?


"So let me see if I can get this straight. He aggressively attacked you, heavily expressed his intentions to exterminate you, and your brilliant solution was to take him home with you like a stray cat?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. She knew the other Avengers might be impartial about her decision, but she wasn't in the mood to take on an earful of Tony Stark telling her how foolish she was.

"What was I supposed to do?" Natasha questioned, crossing her arms. "Kill him? Take him to S.H.E.I.L.D? He's just a child."

"Uh huh, a child who apparently can turn Black Widow's face all black and blue?" Tony retorted, agitated. "Really good thinking Romanoff, you know you should be given a medal or something shiny for that big brain of yours."

"I'll shove it down your throat, Stark."

"That's enough," Steve Rogers, better known as the living legend, Captain America, said as the automatic double door opened up for him. He stepped into the giant sitting room, the door closing behind him to make the iconic Avenger A logo on the door behind him.

"Where Is he?" Natasha inquired, not meeting Captain's eyes.

"Banner's got him," Steve said. "You did a good number on the kid."

Natasha nodded. "I almost killed him."

Silence.

Captain sighed and sat across from her on the unusually large sofa. ( Tony opting to stand staring out the tower window like Batman) Steve tried to get a read on Natasha, but only found the same obscured face that took years of practice for her to perfect.

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing," Natasha said.

"Why did he attack you?"

Natasha scoffed. "You think I know?" she asked incredulously. "He has to be working for somebody. He was unquestionably trained. He was proficient, but sloppy. Although, there was something unusual about him."

"Could he be like you?" Steve asked. "You know, the red room?

Natasha pondered on that. Dreijkov was the bastard her parents had sold her too at a young age, practically before she could talk, to become one of the most brutal assassins in the world. crossing off targets without a second thought, without any empathy or notion of what she was doing or what she was fighting for. Back when she was a mindless drone with strings attached so that her every move, her every thought, her every breath was controlled. So that all she thought was deadly thoughts, so that all she knew was death, destruction, and blood, so that all she was good at was bringing pain. The Avengers helped to clip those strings one by one. But, she remembered what she had done. She remembered the wretched monster she had been. She recalled looking into the mirror for the first time after escaping the red room and slicing open her hand after punching the glass because she couldn't stand the sight of herself.

Dreijkov was dead, though. She had made sure of it herself. She wished she could do it over and over and over again, each time for all the people he made her kill, then once more, but this time for herself.

"Nah," Natasha said without going into further detail.

"I called Nick," Steve said, looking down at the space between them. "He'll be here soon. Figured we could use his help."

She shook her head. It was still thumping from landing on the roof so hard. "You're a snitch."

"He's helped us all before.'

"He'll want answers, answers that I don't suppose the kid can give." Natasaha raised a brow. "You know how pleasant he is when he doesn't get his way."

"Why do you say it like that?"

She was about to ask him what he meant, but she realized she already knew.

"I don't want Nick to help us," Natasha admitted numbly. She looked Steve in the eye, sincerely. "I want him to help find out what's happening and why this boy just tried to rip my head off. Maybe their are more like him. I've had plenty of experience with that."

"You don't want to hurt him?"

"Little too late for that," she laughed bitterly. "I maimed him."

Steve allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips. "I want to help him too, Natasha," he finally said.

Rolling her eyes, Natasaha remarked with, "I am warning you, if you say something corny like because that's what real heroes do, Steve Rogers, I will personally throw you out of this tower."

"Ditto to that, sister," Tony agreed, banging his head on the glass.

"We can get through this together," Steve said sarcastically.

"Oh my gosh, stop!" Natasha groaned, slumping down on the sofa.

"There is no other power greater than the power of teamwork!"

"Rogers, my ears are bleeding!"


"What is she doing?" Dr. Bruce Banner asked the famous and infamous Nick Fury as they watched from a window looking into the towers medical bay as a S.H.E.I.L.D agent holding a clipboard and pen sat by the bedside of a brooding boy, seemingly jotting down things as she talked.

"She's our best government psychiatrist," Nick said. "We figured she'd be the best candidate to wiggle some answers out of the boy."

"What makes you say that?" Steve asked, raising a brow.

"Because when it comes to things like wars, often times children don't even know why they're fighting them or what they're fighting for.'

Just as he finished his sentence, the psychiatrist can be seen getting up from the chair she pulled up to his bedside. Looking in, Natasha saw he was sitting cross cross on the medical cot, and IV in his arm and bandages wrapped around his head. She fought back a pang of guilt.

The door opened, and the psychiatrist entered the viewing side of the room with her clipboard.

"What do you got?"

"Nothing," the woman said. "He won't talk. I think he would even try to attack me if he wasn't so torn up. But I examined his suit that Banner confiscated. I'm pretty sure there's a Hydra emblem on it."

"Hydra?" Nick repeated

"They must be up to something,' Natasha suggested. 'Maybe he could tell us where they are currently operating."

"Tried it," the psychiatrist said. "The kid can barely even sit up, and he doesn't look like he'll be doing us any favors."

"He seemed scared," Natasaha said aloud. The group looked at her. "On the roof, he seemed angry...but he was also scared."

"Where did he come from?" Steve inquired. "How did Hydra get their hands on him, and why on earth would they be interested in having a kid as an asset?"

"yeah about that..." Bruce began, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Listen guys, while I was back here fixing the kid up, I found out some really bizarre things."

They all looked at Bruce expectantly to continue.

"Oh, right now? Right well, for one thing, this kid can do this freakish thing where he can seemingly stick to surfaces."

Natasha leaned in. "Stick?"

Bruce nodded. "Well yeah, he got spooked when he regained consciousness and scurried up onto the ceiling like he was an ant or something." Bruce chuckled. "Of course he was too hurt to really do anything more. I was afraid he'd strain himself, but don't worry because he passed out again."

"Adhesive gloves?" Fury suggested.

"He took his gloves off on the roof," Natasha said. "When we fought."

"He's also freakishly strong," Bruce continued. He pointed to the area above Natasha's eyebrow, which had started to swell and turn a dark shade of purple. "I suppose you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Funny," she snarled. "But Bruce is right. The kid is unnaturally string despite his many flaws in his style. It was the main reason he could hold his own."

"No to mention his fascinating regenerative properties," Bruce added.

Bruce was met with a bunch of blank stares from the people around him. He humped in frustration. "It means he can heal much faster than a normal person can. The little cuts and bruises he got from the fight vanished after hours of receiving them."

"There's something special about this kid then," Steve nodded. "Hydra must be using him, because they figured out he has these supernatural abilities."

Natasha bit at her nails. That still didn't answer her main questions. She looked to Fury, whose eyes...well, his eye was wide open as if he were seeing something that everybody else wasn't. It was a look of realization.

"Do you know what this boy is?" Natasha questioned the director. Nick snapped out of his stupor, still stunned. "How did he get these abilities, where are his parents, why is this happening to him?"

Nick was quiet for a moment, giving everybody else the impression that he had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

"I think I know who that boy is," Nick finally told the group.

"Well, who is he?"

"It's impossible," Nick said, "but it's the only thing that makes sense."

"What?" Bruce asked. "Who is he?"

"This is going to be far-fetched," Fury began, "but I think his name might be Peter. Peter Benjamin Parker."


The Brief History of Peter B. Parker: As Told By Nicholos J. Fury

A little while ago, some many years before I became director, S.H.E.I.L.D used to have a very brilliant and ambitious scientist by the name of Richard Parker. Now it was around this time that creating scientifically enhanced human beings with unique abilities was starting to become every scientist's dream.

While some sought to create a super solider, Richard had a much more vivid idea. He figured that not only could he enhance the strength, intellectual capacity, endurance, and etc. Of a human being, but he could also give it unheard of abilities.

He decided to test his theories on spiders, trying to enhance them, study them, to create the perfect tool for S.H.E.I.L.D. The perfect weapon. Richard Parker's partner, however, was an undercover Hydra agent. He was one of the reasons why Richard Parker became obsessed with his research, even going as far as testing it on his son, who was put into our archives as Peter Parker. It seemed his serum wasn't working at first, then again Peter was allegedly two years old at the time. He bought his son into the lab one day at work to do his usual round of injections and experiments. This of course is without S.H.E.I.l.D.S knowledge or the mothers for that matter. One of his spiders whom he had been experimenting on had gotten loose and bit Peter, turning him into the very thing Hydra wanted to achieve.

Hydra was alerted and planned on kidnapping Richard and forcing him to replicate the serum. They broke into Parker's residence, but after Richard Parker admitted that he couldn't replicate the serum because it wasn't a serum at all but a spider bite, they demanded to see the spider, which was already dead.

So they killed Richard out of frustration and opted to use the boy as their weapon, and hopefully create more like him to recruit to the Hydra cause, making beings more powerful than us. More powerful than the Avengers.

Mary Parker, the mother, fled with her son. Her plane was shot down, and police reports state both mother and child died in the crash. But we always knew that wasn't the truth. Peter survived. Hydra experimented on him, trained him, brutalized him. At the age of thirteen, they knew they didn't have the tools necessary to replicate the success yet, and that the day might not come right away for Hydra to use their most valuable weapon. So similar to what happened to Captain America, they were rumored to have frozen him inside of a chamber for about thirty-five years. Releasing him only two years ago.

They must have a reason to use him.

END


"You think the kid who attempted to kill me is a dead teen from theory plus years ago?" Natasha asked.

Nick shrugged. "It's not impossible. Rogers over here can tell you that."

"It certainly makes sense," Steve agreed.

"OK, but why release him now?" Bruce wondered aloud. "What are the planning that they need to make use of one of their most powerful assets?"

Nobody answered, but Natasha had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't good.

"Let's find out," Natasha hissed. She begins to walk towards the door leading into the medical bay, where the kid was glaring at nothing in particular. She felt the rough fingers of Nick Fury wrap around her wrist, halting her.

"He could be dangerous," Nick warned. "He tried to attack our psychiatrist, Banner had to put a sedative through the IV."

"I'm not afraid of him," Natasha stated firmly. "I just want to talk..." And possibly ease the guilt she felt, but she kept that to herself. She yanked her arm free and proceeded into the room without hesitation. The boy was lying on a cot with the sedative flowing through the IV, just like Bruce said. He glared at a point on the opposite side of the med bay, seeing right through her like she wasn't there.

"I'm not even going to play around with you kid," she said standing across from him. He didn't look at her, so she knelt down the bed so they were eye level. "I have questions and I have a feeling that you might have some answers."

The boy slowly turned his neck so he was facing her. His right eye was swollen shut, and she couldn't help but notice that the boy's features were blurred together by blood, bruises, and bandages. "I don't owe you anything?" The boy said.

"Work with me here. You won't like what's about to happen, kid, if you don't listen."

"What? You'll kill me?" The boy scoffed. "Just do it already, would you?"

Natasha took a startled step back.

"Nobody's killing anybody!" Natasha said.

Natasaha frowned when the boy unexpectedly busted into a humorless laughing fit. He grabbed his head as a crocodile tear ran freely down the side of his face.

"Right," the boy said. "You need me to answer your questions first." His eyes swiveled around, and Natasha followed his gaze as it landed on the gun strapped to her hips. Before she could react, the boy snatched the gun, despite the freaking sedative that apparently did nothing, and pressed the barrel to his own head. His finger was painfully close to the trigger.

"Natasha!" She could hear and feel Steve hammering on the glass. But she wasn't moving, not yet.

"You can't torture me into talking," the boy said. "I'd rather just die."

"No, you wouldn't." Natasaha said. Her voice was quieter now, not wanting to provoke the boy into pulling the trigger. "You know you wouldn't"

"How would you know?" the boy spat. "You're no different from me. I know who you truly are, I know who everybody here truly is. You're no better than me, they told me so."

"Who told you so? Hydra?"

The boy stiffened. "I never heard of Hydra."

Natasaha smirked. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

The boy growled, flipping the gun so that the barrel was now pressed up against Natasah's head. She didn't flinch or even blink in the slightest.

Natasha needed to deescalate the situation. She had to think. What did every child want? She wracked her brain, but could only think of one thing. It was the one thing she wanted as a child, but knew better than to ask for.

"Do it," she said. "Finish it..."

"Do you really wanna call my bluff?"

"You don't want to do this," Natasah shook her head. "You don't want to do any of this, even if you don't admit it."

"They said you'd try to get into my mind," the boy said. "I know you, I know what you'll do. I'm not falling for your mock sympathy."

"So what are you gonna do about it?" She tilted her head, her brow furrowed.

The boy scowled at her, and plunged the bullet into place. The clicking sound made Natasah's heart pound in her chest. She wondered if the guys observing would intervene if she were shot.

"I'm going to finish what I came here for!" He snatched the IV out of his arm. Holding his ribs in pain, he stood up from the bed, Natasah stayed kneeling. He kept the gun on her as he circled around, shivering as he walked. "I won't fail," he murmured.

His finger wrapped around the trigger. Natasha had another trick up her sleeve that she wanted to try before she kicked the kids behind for the second time. She just prayed Fury was right about him.

She held both hands up like she was surrendering.

"Peter," she whispered.

The boy faltered, his aim slipping. She could detect his fear.

Was he afraid of her? Was it because she had beat him to a pulp? The thought disgusted her as well.

"What did you say?"

"Your name," she said softly. "Is your name Peter?"

The boys mouth worked into a grimace, as if Natasha had just poked a bullet wound. "I have a name, I don't remember that name, I don't remember a Peter."

Natasha slowly removed the gun from the boys' hand. She hoped it would work. Surprisingly, he let her guide his hand to his side.

"Yes you do," she said. "They tricked you into thinking that you don't know your name. But you do know. You know what they did to you, you know everything, I can see it."

"You're a liar."

Natasha shook her head. She cradled the boys face in her hands. "No Peter," she said looking into his eyes. "I'm like you."

She felt his resolve disintegrate, and he no longer hid the tears that soaked his face.

"I'm no better," she said, reciting what the boy had said earlier.

"What's your name?"

The boy dropped the gun onto the floor. He was rigid, like he had been struck by lightning. "I don't have one. I am nobody, I am The Spider and you are trying to trick me into failing!"

"Do you remember what they did to you? Do you know who I really am? Not who they saw I am?"

Peter nodded. "They made me stronger!" the boy shouted. "They're all I have!"

"I know," Natasha shushed. "They lied to you to make you fight for them."

Peter finally looked into her eyes. She stared back seeing something familiar in him. It took her a moment to realize that he reminded her of herself.

"You remember," Natasah said. "I know you do. Now tell me...what is your name!"

He hesitated.

"What is your name?"

"Spider.'

"What is your name?!"

The boy clasped his hands over his ears, trying to block out her voice. "I don't know."

"Say it!" she yelled.

"Peter!" The boy shouted impulsively, a stream of fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. He huffed, clutching his head with wide eyes like he just crashed and landed back on earth. "I used to be Peter," he said softly. "Oh gosh."

"You always were Peter," Natasah said, her heart aching for the boy. She knew how it felt to be made into something you're not. "Do you remember?"

"My mother...everyone. They tried to make me forget, but I remember." He looked angrily at her but didn't attack.

"Peter," Natasha called. "My name is Natasha, it's nice to meet you."

Peter wiped at his tears, furrowing his brow. "A-are you going to tell Hydra that you have me?"

She pried the gun out of his hands and strapped it back to her hip. "Do you want me to?"

Peter gulped, thinking this was a trap of some sort. "Natasha...I remember, so why is it that I still feel like I can't trust you?"

"Because this is all you know," Natasah said gently. "But you always knew."

"I don't know if I can trust you," Peter admitted. "You could be lying to me. But Hydra...they do things I don't like. I hate it there, but I can't just turn away when they're all I have. I'll have nobody."

"I will earn your trust," Natasah promised.

"I don't know about that," Peter huffed, looking down. "I don't know if you should trust me when I say I don't think I wanna go back."

"I do."

Peter nodded. It looked like he wasn't sure what he should be doing. He didn't seem to really trust her all that much, but she knew he knew the truth. Hydra thought they could brainwash him into forgetting, but Natasha knew from experience that you never forget. Even if those memories get buried, they're never truly gone. They just scratch at the surface, you just needed somebody to dig you out.

Her friend, Clint Barton, had dug her out.

"I'm sorry I almost killed you," Peter sniffed.

"Me?" Natasha sniggered. "You're the one wearing the bandages kid."

"It wasn't a fair fight," Peter huffed. "You electrocuted me."

"You started it!" Natasah giggled. Then looking at his face, she reached up to touch his bruises, but he flinched and wrenched away from her touch. She dropped her hand, kicking herself. "I'm sorry for hurting you, Peter."

Natasha might have imagined it, but she thought she might have seen the tips of Peter's mouth turn upwards.

It could have been the trick of the mind.

Before retiring for the night, Nick Fury took a moment to stop Natasha for the second time that day.

"Nat," he had said. "You did well today."

"Why? because I made the kid talk without threatening to rip out his tongue?:

Fury shook his head. "Because you helped him. Don't get me wrong. He's far from being alright. He probably doesn't trust anybody right now, his whole life has been a lie, and Hydras probably gonna want their weapon back. And he still probably feels loyal to them. But you made him realize the truth, all he needs to do is grasp onto it now. It will take a while."

"What's going to happen to him?"

"Too dangerous to give to social services," Nick sighed. "I'm afraid he can't have a normal life. He'll have to remain under our watch, especially while we investigate these odd abilities of his. We'll take him to the S.H.E.I.L.D base. He'll be safe there and can put his mutated abilities to aid us when he's ready. He'll be well taken care of."

Natasha bit her lower lip. She should just go to bed and forget about it, but for some reason, she couldn't. The thought of the kid spending his life in a secret military government base for the rest of his life didn't seem any better than being forced inside of a frozen chamber for thirty years.

"What is he stayed?" Natasha said before she could stop herself. She bite her tongue and internally cursed. She couldn't be stupid, she had to be rational. Perhaps S.H.E.I.L.D was the best place for him with his current emotion and mental state.

Nick raised a brow. Amused. "What are you proposing?"

She couldn't really go back now could she? Why was she doing this again? Because she felt bad? She didn't even like kids. But she couldn't just sit back and do nothing. Whenever she looked at him or imagined his face all she saw was herself. Broken, bleeding at the feet of Agent Barton who could have killed her, who should have killed her, but didn't. He rescued her.

"What if I kept an eye on him?"

To be continued.