Chapter 23: Natasha Romanoff

"He's in cryo-stasis," Steve reported to the remaining Avengers in attendance. "Don't know how long he will last in there. Princess Shuri is working with Dr. Cho on finding a way to use nanites to fix the damages."

Natasha lifted her gaze from the cup in her hands to Steve. "Like she did with Clint?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, Clint's injuries were less… severe as Tony's, but something along those lines," he said. "Princess Shuri put a few kimoyo beads in Tony to stabilize him before the stasis. It'll report of any changes."

The room went quiet, taking in the news that Tony Stark was out of commission. A few days ago, Stark was taking charge of the investigation. The information they found ranged from disturbing to insanity. And, it made everything crystal clear as to Ross's obsession with Peter Parker. The puzzle was coming together and they busied to find the missing pieces to finish it.

That was until Tony Stark got shot.

Natasha remembered getting the call. At first, she rolled her eyes. She expected Stark to get himself caught up in a firefight. The man could never stay out of trouble. When she arrived at the Compound, expected to see Tony Stark up and about, ranting over the lame attempt on his life.

She never expected him to be heavily sedated with multiple tubes embedded into his arms. Tony laid perfectly still on the stretcher, face a ghostly pale color that almost resembled death itself. His clothes were already cut off him, the blood garments tossed into a hazard bag.

What bothered her the most was that Stark was quiet. Not a word. Nothing.

And now, the rest of the team huddled in the conference room. None of them spoke very much. Too shocked that Tony Stark was nearly taken out by bullets. Not some alien invasion or enhanced individual, but by mere bullets. From a normal human.

The world was fucked up.

"How is Ms. Potts?" Vision asked from his seat.

Steve dropped his hands from his waist to the table. "She's um… doing her best," he answered. "Her parents came up to help. I know Happy is keeping a close eye on her, but… she's upset. She's worried and she just wants time with her family."

Vision nodded and Wanda dropped her chin, probably remembering the time she lost her family. Or more specifically, her brother, Pietro. Vision must have sensed her distress as he placed a hand on her shoulder, whispering comforts to help ease her pain.

Natasha inhaled, flickering her eyes to Steve. "Any leads?" she asked.

Steve frowned, disappointed. "None at the moment," he confessed. "All we have is the sight and bullets taken from Tony's chest. Nothing else."

"Do we have men at the scene?"

"We do," Colonel Rhodes answered. He wasn't sitting down. His face taut, lips firm and curved downward. His eyes showed a dark rage. He had flown immediately from California to New York the minute he heard of Tony's assassination attempt. He landed and went directly to Tony's room before making a brief detour to Pepper. From there, he joined them. "I arrange our men to conduct the investigation. Sweep the area. They are reporting to Agent Ross. He's leading the scene."

Agent Ross—no relation to Thaddeus Ross—but a person Natasha hasn't yet truly trusted. She was aware Stark showed some compromise with the man as did Captain America. Even Peter Parker trusted the man whole-heartedly, but Natasha wasn't one to trust easy. A habit she kept since her days as an assassin for the KGB.

"What did he find?" Natasha asked.

"The assassin was a trained sniper," Colonel Rhodes responded. "Shot Tony from nearly three thousand yards away. Not any person can do that."

"Trained," Natasha agreed. "Military."

"HYDRA?" Sam asked. "Are they back?"

"I doubt it," Natasha replied. "This has to do with our investigation into Ross."

"And Osborn," Steve added, rubbing his jawline. "Tony was certain that Osborn was associated with Ross."

"There's no proof," Colonel Rhodes claimed. "Nothing in the documents you obtained from Ross pointed to Osborn."

Natasha thought for a moment, remembering something Clint said when he came back. "Maybe not in the documents."

All eyes turned to her. "What?" Sam asked.

Natasha swung her chair back to Steve. "Do you remember what Clint said? When he came back with the documents?"

Steve nodded, remembering. "Ross told Deadpool something," he recalled. "Something under torture."

"Perhaps we should make another call with this Deadpool fellow?" suggested Wanda.

There was a shift in the atmosphere. Charged and thick, as everyone in the room tensed upon remembering the last time they encountered Deadpool. Steve witnessed the man yank out his arms. The others saw Peter laying on a hospital bed, pulverized to a pulp.

Confronting Deadpool meant courting disaster, blood and a major headache. Natasha heard stories from Clint's experience and he barely managed to rein in Deadpool. Apparently, Deadpool grew attached to Clint in a far more appropriate manner than a partner would have. Clint told her he still receives "care packages" from Deadpool at the former SHIELD hub in his neighboring territory.

Steve was the first to recover. He shook his head. "Out of the question," he said. "He's insane. No one goes near him. Unless you're Clint."

"Maybe we should call him in, then?" Sam proposed.

"He's with his family now," Natasha reminded them. "He's not involved unless Peter is absolutely involved. And he's not involved."

"Of course he's involved!" Sam argued, throwing his hands up in the air. "This whole situation revolves around Spidey-boy! How is he not involved?"

"He's not involved in the investigation," Steve said to everyone in the group. "Remember? May Parker doesn't want Peter to be caught up in all of this. Tony too. He was adamant about keeping Peter away from all this."

And that had yet to work out well. Peter's kidnapping attempt, defamation and media attraction, Peter found his webs too tangled within the case. They did their best to keep him out of harm's way, secluding him to the Compound in the past month. But, like Steve, Natasha believed Peter was aware of his new glided cage.

Vision raised his hand. Ever the polite one of the group. "I'm sorry, I don't understand," he began. "Should not Peter be involved? This is his crusade, is it not?"

"A child should not lead a crusade," Steve said. "Even if it involves him or her."

Natasha thought of her days as a child, being raised in an environment that promoted violence. She knew how where to hurt a man. Knew where to make him scream. Knew where to make him weep. Knew where to make him beg for his mother. She knew every poison. Every gun. Every blade. She was an expert in ten martial art forms before the age of fifteen. A trained killer.

She sighed. Steve was right. It was no place for a boy like Peter. He's innocent. No need to get blood on his hands.

"Where is the kid?" Natasha asked. "How's he holding up?"

"Last time I checked, he almost looked as white as Tony," Colonel Rhodes responded to Nat's inquiry. "May said he's barely spoken a word. Keeps by Tony's bedside. I've seen this behavior before. It's a state of shock. Even Pepper is concerned for him."

"Is he with Tony now?"

Colonel Rhodes shrugged. "I don't know. He wasn't with the princess or Dr. Cho when they put Tony in cryo-stasis."

"With his aunt then?" Wanda guessed. "I'm sure she's probably with him."

They accepted that answer and continued on. Natasha tuned them out, thinking. Her fingers tapped against the table with a gentle touch. She looked to the clock, remembering the arrival time of Princess Shuri and Tony's cryo-stasis. She recalled Peter talking to his friend. A seriousness mien that shrouded any lightness that the boy once carried as he talked with the princess. A finality in the way he excused himself when Shuri had to assist Dr. Cho.

Natasha abruptly got out of her seat. Everyone stopped and turned to her. Then Steve spoke. "Nat?"

"I'll be right back," Natasha opened the door to leave. "Need to check up on something."

To no surprise at all, Natasha watched Peter tip-toe into the garage. She stayed in her position as Peter pushed out his motorcycle onto the driveway. The kid scanned the area, missing her entirely before he decided it was clear.

Natasha saw the suit underneath the dark hoodie he hoped to camouflage him with the nightscape. She smiled at his effort to sneak out. Too bad she was around the Compound or else Peter would have managed to escape from the Compound.

When Peter neared the end of the driveway, Natasha stepped out of her hide-out and revealed her presence. "Going somewhere?"

Her voice spooked Peter to spin around. He gripped the handlebars to stop him from falling over. "What? How… where did you come from?" Peter questioned, eyes dashing around her in search for any others.

Natasha jabbed her thumb behind her, toward the buildings. "From there," she said, walking over to him. "So… you going on a road trip? I thought Cap said that the bike needed some more test-driving?"

Peter abashedly looked down for a moment. "Yeah, well, it works fine," he claimed. "He's just thinks it needs more work."

Of course, she thought. Steve would say that just to buy him more time before confessing the truth of why Peter couldn't drive off on his own.

"Where you going?" Natasha asked, crossed her arms as she relaxed her stance. But not enough to not be caught off-guard. She was never off-guard.

"Out."

"I can see that."

Peter said nothing. He only stared back with narrowed, dubious gaze.

Natasha let out a weary sigh. "It won't help him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he rebuffed her attempts to get his confession.

"Yeah, you do," Natasha countered. "You were planning to run off and find the assassin on your own."

Peter doesn't say a word, but his avoidance of her gaze confirmed her suspicions.

"Let me ask you something, Peter," Natasha said, approaching so that she stood right in front of him. "What were you going to do when you found them?"

"Get justice," Peter answered automatically.

"How?"

Peter was baffled. "What do you mean how?" he questioned. He was stalling. He didn't have a plan. Didn't know what he would do. Only knew he had to do something and that was dangerous.

"Peter—how were you planning to get justice?" Natasha waited, patient.

Peter fidgeted. "I-I would get them to confess."

Natasha lifted a brow. "How?"

Peter's face tinged a bit maroon. "What do you mean how? I just told you!"

"You told me of your plans to get them to confess," Natasha said, moving closer so that Peter rounded to the other side of the motorcycle, keeping the bike between them as a barrier. "I want to know how you are going to get them to confess."

There was a beat of silence. Both already aware that the other one knew. Peter curled in his lips into a taut determination. His eyes were darker in the night, a promised vengeance. He scrunched up his face, shifting his feet as if he ready to hop on the bike.

Natasha put her hand down on the seat. "You better think this through, kid," she warned. "Is this really what you want to do?"

Peter glared. "I'm not doing anything."

"You're about to."

Peter let out a stream of hot air. "I'm doing what you guys should be doing."

"And that's what exactly?" Natasha questioned.

"I'm going to avenge Tony!"

That's what Natasha thought he would say. Her shoulders drooped a bit, disappointed. She hoped he would surprise her, but in the end, he was just like Stark. Like mentor, like mentee.

"You think avenging Tony is going out as Spider-man and beat the crap out of people?"

Peter's eyebrows furrowed, a deep crevice right between his eyes. "Not people," he huffed. "Those responsible."

"Oh? So you already know who shot Stark."

Peter hesitated. "Well, no, but… I'm going to," he said, confident in his declaration. "I'm going to find the person responsible."

"That's not your responsibility," Natasha reminded him. It was hers. And Steve's. And everyone else back in the conference room. It was not Peter's.

But Peter didn't see it that way. "You're wrong," he stated. "Pepper told me it wasn't my fault that Mr. Stark got shot, but I know that's not entirely true." Peter shook his head. "You guys have been looking into something. Something that has to do with me."

Natasha pulled back up, arms crossed as she studied Peter. Steve was right. The kid was intuitive. "Whatever it is, it's Avengers business."

"I'm an Avenger!"

"No, you're not," Natasha stressed with deep emphasis. "Definitely not. And you're not supposed to even be spider-man." She pointed to the exposed suit near his neck. "Now, I kept your secret and didn't tell Tony that you had your suit. But if you go out now, I will stop you and take it."

Peter frowned deeper. His foot slipped back, ready to sprint or fight. "I'm sorry, Nat," he said, but he didn't sound apologetic at all, "but I'm not a kid anymore." He took both handlebars, ready to leave again. "If you try to stop me, I'll fight."

Peter turned his back on her, pushing the motorcycle off the driveway. Natasha crinkled her brow, shocked and disturbed by the sudden change in Peter. What happened to that innocent, sweet kid back on the farm? Willingly to listen and help those around him. Bright-eyed and excitable, happy to simply be in the same room as others. He suddenly became a punk.

"So, that's it, huh?" Natasha inquired to Peter's back. "You're going to run off and use the skills Clint taught you to kill a man?"

"I'm not going to kill—"

"Torture then, which is much worse in my book," Natasha cut him off. "That's what Clint trained you for, is it?"

Peter stopped and craned his neck over his shoulder. "Clint taught me to fight!"

"He taught you to protect," Natasha sharply countered. "If he knew what you were going to do, he would have knocked you out and dragged your ass to the mini-prison we have here."

Peter bristled. "Clint's not here!"

"Then think about Tony," Natasha tried to guilt Peter into submission. Make him remember his mentor and idol. "How would he feel if knew he was the reason you got your hands covered in blood?"

"Considering he's in carbonite," Peter threw back, "I doubt he can feel much. Besides, this is something he would do. He wouldn't sit and do nothing. He would be out there! Finding the person responsible!"

"The old Tony would do that," Natasha rebuked him. "Not anymore. He's learn from his mistakes and what does he tell you, Pete? Remember what he says? 'I want you to be better'. How is this being better?"

Peter mimicked her expression of desperate and righteous frustration. "Why do you guys keep saying that to me? Why do I have to be the better one?" he whined, face soured. "Why is everyone stuck on this idea of putting me on a high pedestal?"

"Because you are the better hero out of all of us," Natasha quickly answered. "You're kind. Compassionate. Intelligent. Brave. Overall, you have a good heart. That's why we look up to you, Peter. You have seen the worst of mankind, experienced pain and sorrow, and yet… you always come out on the right side. You still have your heart. You're not burned by it. Not darkened. You're still you."

Peter blinked and Natasha wondered if her words got through to him. She took in a breath. "I meant what I said back on Clint's farm, kid," she said. "You're the better halves of Tony and Steve. And that's something impressive."

The kid didn't think of it impressive. "Who cares? It doesn't stop me from losing the people I care about," he responded, vindictive. "Well—no more. I'm tired of watching people I love die."

Peter marched onward, not even waiting for a rebuttal from Natasha. Already, his mind was made up and nothing would change it.

Natasha had one more shot. One last chance to stop Peter from doing the unspeakable. She hated to use it against him, but it was her last hope. Either it would stop Peter or make things much worst. She hoped for the former.

As Peter drew further and further away, Natasha rolled her last dice. "Is this what your Uncle Ben envisioned for you?"

Peter came to a screeching halt. His heels dug into the asphalt. Fingers twisted the handlebars.

She got his attention. The next steps needed to be handle gently. "With great power, comes great responsibility," she continued on, watching Peter's shoulders tensed as she recited Uncle Ben's words to him. "Isn't that right?"

Peter didn't move. Natasha slid across the pavement, her feet barely made a sound as she approached the kid once more.

"Peter?" Natasha quietly called for him again. "Is this what your uncle had in mind?"

"Stop."

His voice went quiet. It almost sounded child-like. A bit broken.

Natasha briefly closed her eyes, regretting pushing against Peter's bleeding heart like this. "Answer the question, Pete," she repeated. "Is this what Uncle Ben wanted you to become?"

"Please, Nat—don't."

Natasha made her way to Peter. The kid's head was down, but she saw the shine in his eyes. "Just answer the question, kid," she said. "Is this what your Uncle Ben wanted?"

Peter didn't raise his head. Each breath he expelled was full of grief. Shallow and harsh. Too ragged for a boy. His hands were shaking on the handlebars, fingers curling to control it. There was limited success.

Guilt burned into Natasha's guts, but she pressed onward. It was the only way. "Go ahead," she nudged her chin in the direction of the Compound's gate. "If you truly believe you are doing the right thing, then go. I won't stop you." Natasha started to back away from him. "Just remember what you will be losing when you do."

And then, the kid's head rose. Brown eyes wide and glossy. Pain written all over his face. A sole tear dropped from his lashes, trailing down his cheek to his trembled, pinched mouth.

Natasha pitied the kid, but she wasn't going to wait for an answer. She turned on her heel and walked back to the buildings. Not once did she turn her back to see what decision Peter made. She crossed the lawn and hiked up the steps, returning to indoors as she got back into the elevator to take her to the conference room.

The elevator pinged and the door opened for her. Natasha stepped out, but paused by a window. She peeked out, looking over the vast landscape of the Avengers Compound. She scrunched her eyes a bit, focusing on a figure moving across the lawn.

Natasha smiled. "This is why you're better than all of us," she whispered as she watched Peter Parker return to the residential buildings, hands stuffed in his oversized pocket. The door closed behind him.

Natasha kept the smile on her face, proud of the baby spider as she returned to the conference room. Not a lot changed. Everyone was still there, discussing and arguing what to do next. When she opened the door, they all fell silent again, looking to her with perplexed wonder.

"Where did you go for so long?" Sam questioned.

Natasha sat back in her original chair, not looking anyone specifically in the eye. The smile still on her face. "Oh… you know," she said. "Just checking up on something."

That got everyone to raise a critical look, but before they could further interrogate her on the matter, there was a knock on the door.

Happy Hogan stood outside, wearing medical gloves and carrying a briefcase.

Steve gestured for him to enter. "What's up, Happy?" he asked, riddled with concern. "Is Tony—did something happen?"

Happy shook his head. "Everything is still the same," he reported, "but I didn't come down here for that."

He hurried to the table and set the briefcase on top. He unlocked it. Natasha leaned in her chair to see what was inside, but Happy already pulled the content out and dropped it on the table.

Nat's eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. "What is that?"

It was a booklet that looked like a kid drew all over the cover. The whole designed was on basic, white paper and the drawings were done in crayons.

Colonel Rhodes glanced over it. "Are we looking at one of Maria's drawings?"

Happy shook his head. "No," he said. "No, this came in the mail. For Peter."

Steve arched his brows. "And what's does some… artwork for Peter have to do with the situation at hand?" he questioned.

"Well, it just so happens that this artwork… is covered in blood."

Everyone suddenly pushed their chairs back from the table, hands up to avoid any contamination. "What the hell!" Sam shouted, looking at Happy like he was a deranged lunatic. "Why you bringing this shit here?"

"Because this shit," Happy pointed to the booklet, "is evidence on what happened to Tony."

"What?" All of them still confused by his announcement.

Happy let out a frustrated sigh. "I mean what I said," he grunted. "Security labeled it as bio-hazard and I went to investigate." He turned to look at Captain America. "You're going to want to read it. Mind you, with gloves on like mine. But… it's important."

Steve glanced from the booklet to Happy. "What is it exactly?"

"It's a comic book," Happy answered, "of what happened the day of Tony's assassination."

They all wore the gloves and a few wore face masks as they flipped through the comic book. Drawings after drawings of a red-masked character with large black eyes appeared on every page, narrating the story. The setting was in New York. That much was obvious by the author's crude drawing of the Manhattan skyline.

Along with the red-masked character, there were others. A white, bald-looking figure with red eyes, robust in figure and very imposing against the other characters. There was a little green fellow and a curly-hair Sue, who wore plaid and held what appeared to be beer bottles in each hand. But the main character seemed to be the big, white dude, who traveled from one place to another, engaging with each character about a job or what-not.

The last few pages was what held everyone's attention. It was obvious what the first scene of the final act was supposed to be. The character dressed in black wearing colorful glasses was meant to be Tony, with red dots coming out from behind him to depict his assassination. The White Bald man stood on a rooftop, gun in hand and smoking. The red-masked character pointed the White Bald man as the culprit.

Steve released a heavy sigh. "So that's what happened."

"May have happened," Colonel Rhodes quickly corrected. "Can't call this sufficient evidence. Won't be allowed in a courtroom."

"He is right," Vision said from above. "It's not hard proof, Captain. They can argue that it's a prank or say it is an unreliable source."

They flipped onto the next page where it showed the White Bald man escaping and Tony dying out on the sidewalk. Steve turned the page again and they saw a colorful masterpiece of the White Bald man standing in an apartment, red-masked figure outside the window, waving.

"I think I'm getting the picture," Steve muttered.

"How so?" Wanda asked, befuddled as much as the next person. "Who is this red-masked person?"

"You don't want to know," he answered and he turned the page, although it was sticking a bit to another.

Steve peeled the pages apart and laid the comic back down. At once, everyone pulled their hands back. The entire page was coated in blood.

Natasha saw a few crayon drawings behind the blood, but it was hard to know what it was before blood smeared over it.

"What the hell…" Sam's voice trailed, wide-eyed at the paper. "What does this mean?"

Steve dropped his arms. "It means that Tony's assassin is dead."

Everyone looked back to him. "What? How do you even figure, Cap?" Colonel Rhodes asked. "Because of a homemade comic book says so?"

Steve walked away from the table, dropping back in his chair. His eyes moved up to Happy. "You know who did this."

Happy nodded. "I figured it out."

Natasha glanced between the two men and then looked back at the comic, remembering all the characters. Then it came to her. The red-masked character with the big, black eyes. "Deadpool," she muttered before turning to Steve. "This is from Deadpool."

Steve confirmed with a nod. "He must have figured out who the assassin was."

"And killed him," Colonel Rhodes finished, taking another look at the blood. "Is someone analyzing the blood?"

"Already on it," Happy answered. "Should know sooner or later whose blood that belongs to."

"Probably the White Bald man," Natasha remarked. "Deadpool must have found out and killed him in retaliation."

"Or as a gift?" Steve proposed, looking a lot more tired than he did a few minutes ago. "He did draw this entire comic book for Peter. Probably wanted him to know that he retaliated on his behalf?"

Natasha thought of how Peter nearly ran away to do that himself.

Colonel Rhodes smacked the table. "Well, that doesn't help us figure out why the guy shot Tony," he argued, bitter in his resentment to not interrogate the assassin. "All we know is that he's a tall, white dude with red eyes. And probably dead."

"Most definitely dead," Steve affirmed.

Sam kept flipping through the comic book, eyebrows pinched close together. "Wait a minute, wait a minute," he said, holding up a hand. "Maybe we're missing the point of this?"

They looked to Sam. "What do you mean?" Wanda asked, peering at him with muddled confusion by his statement.

"I mean, sure, Deadpool probably wanted to let Peter know that he killed the man that tried to kill Tony, but you see here," Sam opened up to the page where the White Bald man sat beside the green figure, with the curly hair Sue nearby. "I think this page is important. Why did Deadpool have to show us this page? Why not just do the entire comic on Tony being shot and then Deadpool killing the guy?"

Steve got up from his seat and went to stand next to Sam, poring over the comic. "Are you saying—"

Natasha picked up what Sam was saying. "You think the assassin was hired to kill Tony," she said, looking squarely at Sam before she pointed on the green character, "by this man."

Sam pointed right at Natasha. "Yep. I don't think the big, baldy here is our Big Bad," he told everyone. "I think it's whoever this green dude is. I think he's the one who arranged the hit on Tony."

That made a lot of sense. Story-wise at least. Natasha looked over the drawing. The White Bald man sat beside the green figure, speaking of a job he had to do. It would make sense. Complete sense.

Sam lifted the comic up a bit and pointed to curly hair Sue. "And I think we both know who we need to go talk to," he said to Steve.

Natasha raised her eyes to Captain America. "You guys do?"

Steve took in a deep breath. "Yeah," he answered, looking back at everyone. "His name is Weasel. He's a friend of Deadpool. And he might have our missing link to all of this."