2008 Budapest, Hungary. 24 years old.

Natasha had been undercover for nearly 3 months. Infiltrating a terrorist organization hell bent on destroying Russia. By far her biggest mission to date. The level of organization she needed to achieve was a challenge she easily rose to.

In her time traveling she had acquired a knack for technology. Hacking the ever-changing technology in the world was just another step that gave her an advantage on her missions. Today she had been able to hack the leaders email and gained access to vital time frames and detailed plans for the future. She had an hour to get to get to the building where the meeting would take place to decide a bombing in St. Petersburg or Moscow. She had to act today when the organizations top leaders all converged on the same location.

She hurried to her closet in the small, studio like apartment she had called home for three months in a rundown building. She tugged out clothing from a trunk that was like a second skin to her. Designed for her job in mind. There was no uniform. She needed to blend in where ever she went. Her clothes looked civilian, but had be designed to help assist her in killing and moving. Thick leggings with pockets on the legs that concealed her stunning discs, garrote. Dark brown boots zipped up to her knees, roomy enough to conceal a knife on one side and a gun on the other. She slipped on a grey loose sweater that helped conceal another gun holstered on her hip.

Within minutes she took to the streets, hurrying towards the building she needed to be at. Darkness was on her side. She surprised three guards and killed them in quick succession and picked the lock to enter the building. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Her skin tingled as she crouched in a stairwell. She sprinted to the 7thfloor of the building and discovered two more guards. Her garrote did nicely in choking the first one. The other she snapped his neck as he tried to call for back up.

She snatched the radio and silenced it. Voices permeated from a meeting room. Two girls stood outside the room arranging coffee on a tray. Waitresses. She two stunning discs and caught the girls before they fell to the ground. She needed the element of surprise.

She pulled a vial of clear liquid from her boot and poured a drop into each of the 6 cups of coffee. She smoothed her long hair around her shoulders and picked up the tray. The men paid her no attention as she served the coffee. She left the room calmly, locking the door from the outside and waited. In minutes the first one dropped. Chaos ensured as another dropped, one two more gasped for air. The last two fought for their lives, trying to flee the room.

An alarm sounded and Natasha bolted. That she hadn't expected. There must have been a panic button. She wouldn't be able to get herself out easily now. The building was swarming with guards. This organization was on many hit lists. She grabbed her gun as she hurtled down the stair well. Two guard shot at her from above, chipping the cement wall and sending fragments flying.

She rolled to a blind spot and drew her gun, firing in quick succession. Two more dead. She made it another flight down the stairs before a blast knocked her down. A concussion grenade exploded below her a flight down. Her ears buzzed, blood trickled from her left ear. The force of the blow cracked her head against the cement steps. She couldn't hear. She panicked. She needed her hearing to get out. Her vision was blurry. The injury disabled her most vital skill set, her senses.

Natasha staggered to her feet, the ground whirling under her. She cursed as her equilibrium was shot. She had to move. She struggled up three flights and reached the roof of the building. A guard surged forward shooting at her.

She rolled to the ground and hid behind a vent. Soldiers surged onto the roof. She sighed dejectedly, and tugged at her ears. The buzzing seemed to be getting louder. Her body wasn't healing quickly, not like other wounds did. A brief thought blew through her mind. Of her hundreds of perfect missions, that this was going to be the one that ended her. She had two guns and only about 24 bullets.

She drew both her guns and shot up. She fired at will towards the dozen or so guards who blurred together. She staggered to another vent to reload after her clips emptied. Something sailed past her eyes and exploded in front of the guards. Fire erupted several yards in front of her, engulfing the area the guards who had survived charged back into the building.

Natasha took her chance and ran. She was not going to stick around to find out what or who fired the explosive at her. She saw her only way out of the situation. A rusted ladder that scaled the side of the building. She struggled down the ladder. Slipping twice and managing to catch herself. The dizziness made her misjudge the distance to the ground and she dropped thinking it was only a few feet and not an entire floor. She had barely enough time to tuck and roll from the impact.

Three blocks to her apartment and she'd be able to arrange her way out of here. The feeling of being followed still plagued her as she staggered back. Once inside her apartment, she locked the door and collapsed by her closet, tugging the trunk open and searching for the meager medical kit she had. She pawed at the generic supplies and hissed, nothing to fix her concussion.

Her skin crawled again as it felt like someone was watching her. She was too young to be paranoid. Her mission was nearly a clean execute. No one would find her. But that didn't stop the building feeling that she wasn't alone. Twice she searched the small apartment. She locked the windows and drew the curtains. She got into bed fully clothed and kept her gun and knife in hand as she pretended to sleep. If someone was watching now would be the time to sneak up on her.

She waited an hour, the ringing in her ears faded and restored most of her hearing. The dizziness stopped for the most part if she didn't move too much. Her enhanced healing finally catching up. She drifted off to sleep, but that soon was interrupted. Natasha felt that tingling feeling again, this time is was more urgent. She kept her eyes shut as a breeze brushed hair against her cheek. A window had been opened. Under the blanket she gripped the knife in her right hand, her fingers on her left hand closing in on the trigger of the gun. She sprang up and hurled the knife to her left. The man in the shadows shot the knife out of the air.

What kind of hitman used a bow and arrow? Natasha rolled from the bed and drew her gun, he drew an arrow and stepped forward.

"Shoot me and you lose your ticket out of this mess you've made." He warned.

Natasha frowned and started talking in Russian as she inched around the edge of the bed. In a flash she fired the gun, and he let loose an arrow that deflected the bullet.

Natasha stared in surprise, the accuracy needed to hit a bullet was impossible.

"They're coming for you." He said shortly and notched another arrow. "I'm surprised you were so sloppy. Did you know there was a survivor?"

Natasha pretended to not understand, she shouted in Russian again, pointing her gun at his head.

"Stop with the Russian, I know you know English, Natalia."

Natalia… She hadn't heard that name since she left the Red Room. On her last day before she left to work in another KGB facility, Madame revealed her last set of secrets.

Natasha was a name she was given upon her arrival. She had been Natalia Alianovna. The name her parents gave her before their untimely deaths. Her name was kept from her, to be given back when she had finally become someone new. She was led to believe, brainwashed to believe she was Natasha. So that upon her last day her true name would be given to her as her new alias. She rarely heard her name, in her briefings she was referred to as Black Widow, the name she had earned herself.

She grit her teeth, how did he know that. "Who are you?"

The man laughed, "Finally, some English. I was hoping you'd drop the Russian eventually. I was sent here to kill you."

She eyed him closely, "With a bow and arrow? How medieval of you. Who sent you?"

She had already figured out more of him that he probably knew. He was American. Truly so, his accent was not forced. Middle aged, in prime physical condition. The Russians would not have sent a middle aged American to kill her. He worked for someone else. But he didn't talk.

"MI6? Mossad?" She breathed. "CIA?" She listed watching his body language for a tell.

Nothing. He glanced out the window and his expression changed. "Nothing you've heard of, sweetheart."

She shook her head, "Why does an agency I've never heard of want me dead?"

He looked at her simply, "You're a threat to global security. I take care of global security threats."

She grit her teeth, "I've been protecting my country. I am not a threat to the entire globe." She aimed her gun at his chest.

"You are… They've lied to you, Natalia. You haven't been eliminating criminals. You've been extinguishing powerful people that your country doesn't want around. Those men you killed today, all men who opposed the KGB. The KGB fell years ago."

Natasha hissed, "I would know if the organization I work for fell. You are lying." She breathed quickly.

He shook his head, "You've been lied to your whole life I suspect. Brainwashed to believe. I don't want to kill you, you need to listen." He lowered his bow and arrow and approached. "The KGB fell in 1991. You've been working for the leaders who survived. They went underground and they're damn good at hiding. You're the last operative they have. The others have been taken out."

1991. She hadn't even joined the Red Room yet. She was 7. That fall she would be recruited from the orphanage. The organization fell and she was none the wiser to it. She saw her hand begin to tremble. Her nearly 10 years in the Red Room were for an organization that fell before she started. Lied to from the start.

"I should kill you for lying." She whispered. "Why should I believe anything you said."

"Kill me then, but part of you is curious. Why do you think they've sent you around the world without modern technology? They've kept what the rest of the world knows from you. You've operated under their lies for years, I can give you a way out of that."

She scoffed, "How, killing me gives me a way out? You expect me to go quietly, you are wrong."

He checked the window again, the third time in the past few minutes. "I'm prepared to make a different call. I don't want to kill you."

She kept her gun trained on him, "Why…" She demanded. "Why won't you kill me." She worked for an organization that lied to her. How many had she killed that were innocent? The thought made her lower her gun.

He pressed a button on a band on his wrist. "I've been trailing you for a while. I think you can change for the better. You're young, this doesn't need to be your end."

"I deserve to die for what I've done." She stared at him.

"Come with me, Natalia. We don't have a lot of time. 3 body guards are after you from the man you left alive. They're outside. While I know you can kill them, I don't want to stick around and find out." He moved to the door and listened. Cursing and stepping away.

Her silence made him pause, "Yes or no. Yes, you want to start over, and take back your life. Or no, you go back to operating in a web of lies."

She hurried to her trunk and grabbed a small bag. She tucked several things into it and slung it around her body. He nodded and pointed to the door.

"One's outside." He warned and gripped the handle. "We have to get to the roof."

She nodded and crouched down. Drawing her gun, as he flung the door open. The body guard wasted no time in firing his shot, but Natasha was quicker. A bullet to his shoulder. She surged past the man and hurried up the steps to the roof.

A plane was rumbling with life. Compact, sleek, and stealthily black. The man pushed her forward. "Get on now." He hurried forward and a panel dropped. He hurried inside as she stepped on the metal walkway.

The engines surged and he shouted, "If you stand there I hope you've got a parachute."

She was frozen. What if this was a trick. An elaborate way to get her alone and kill her. She stared at him, she was dumb to believe him.

He left the cockpit and walked up to her, "You're making the right choice, Natalia. Give me a chance to prove that."

She nodded and stepped further into the plane. He hit a button and the walkway closed. "Find a spot to sit."

He ran to the control panel and in seconds they were in the air. She dropped into a seat next to him and watched all the instruments and screens flash with information.

An hour passed, as she watched the land rush by under them before it changed to water.

"Where in America are we going?" She asked quietly. He seemed startled a little and seemed to have thought she was sleeping.

"What tipped you off that we're going to America?" He replied.

She gave him a firm look, "You should try harder to mask your accent." Years of language study and dialect coaching enable her to pick up on forced accents when people thought they were acting well.

He laughed, "New York."

She looked over at him, "C. Barton." She pointed to the miniscule writing on a screen beside him. "What's your name?"

"Will me telling you make you put that knife away?" He asked. Nodding toward the knife she had clenched in her fist beside her leg.

"You don't miss anything do you?" She commented.

"Neither do you, clearly." He pressed a button and looked over at her. "Clint." He added. "I'm not going to do anything to you. Anyways, I had the chance to do it three times before you even got into the building at the start of your little mission."

She had been right, she was being followed. "I knew you were there." She said defensively. It was mostly true.

"Sure thing kid." He laughed.

Natasha caught herself almost smiling. "I am not a child."

He nodded, "I've got a kid on the way. That makes me old. You are young, Natalia."

She sighed. She liked this guy already. He was kinder than almost everyone she met. Besides one person, but she didn't think about him anymore. She stashed the knife in her boot. "It's Natasha now.. Natalia is someone I don't want to be anymore."

New York, USA

4 hours later Natasha watched Clint land the plane. He sighed and looked over at her. "My boss.. He's not going to like that you're here. Best to let me do the talking. I'm gonna make this work for you okay? I promise."

She slightly worried that she had believe Clint now and perhaps he wouldn't be able to come through on this promise. "Don't make promises you can't keep. Or just don't make them at all. It's an easy way to live."

He gave her a solemn look, "You're messed up kid. I always come through on promises."

"You don't even know the half of it. Remind me to tell you the messed up stuff that'll make your skin crawl." She replied coolly as the plane's walkway was lowered and a man with an eye patch stormed in.

"Barton!" He yelled.

"Shit." She heard Clint say and stand up. He glanced at Natasha, "Chill out for a second." He watched as she reached for the knife again.

"Fury…" Clint smiled and left Natasha in the cockpit.

"You must be out of your god damn mind. Tell me I do not see you bringing a Russian assassin who is supposed to be dead into my headquarters."

Clint stood his ground. "I made a different call."

"On who's authority." Fury said angrily.

"My own." Clint said simply. "She can work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

Fury scoffed, "Listen to yourself. You read her file. No one in their right mind would give her any security clearance necessary to work for us."

Clint crossed his arms and stood his ground. Fury glared at him. "I'll break it down for you Barton. In her short 24 years on Earth, 375 kills. That's just what we know of, if the intel we have is even good. The people who made her raised her from childhood to kill. The number is even higher considering her training. Give her time and resources we have and she'll bring this country down in hours. She hacks, speaks a dozen languages, she kills without reason. No one will vouch for her in this program. She has no place here. Finish this mission."

Clint set his jaw. "I'll vouch for her."

"You're an idiot, Barton." Fury said lowly.

"You didn't see what I did. Don't damn her for what she's done. The talent she'd bring to the team is invaluable." Clint said quickly. He had stuck to his word. He was trying for her.

Fury stepped closer to him, "She is a monster."

Clint grabbed Fury's jacket, "She's not any worse than the monsters you've got Coulson investigating. The one selling his war weapons to anyone with enough money, or what about the real monster? The green one."

Fury was silent. Natasha stood up and looked at the men. It was hard hearing what he had to say about her. Part of that was what brought her here. His numbers were wrong. Higher was right. She was a monster, and now she wanted to change.

Fury's eyes were on her. "S.H.I.E.L.D. will need to interview her, to see if she's even right for the program."

She looked at him, "I can be whoever you need me to be."

"I'm sure you can be." Fury said after a long silence.

He glanced at two armed guards, "Take her to the lab."

Natasha complied and let the guards lead her to a laboratory. Clint was nowhere to be seen while scientists ran a variety of tests on her. Psychologists talked to her. Doctors examined her. When they weren't running her through agility courses, or having her spar or demonstrate her training, she was locked in a cell.

A week passed before Fury visited her in her cell. He had a thick file in his hands as he sat at the table in her cell. She got off the bed and swept her long hair back and joined him at the table. "You've made a decision?" She asked.

He nodded, "I'm looking for some honesty, and then we will decide."

She looked at him and nodded.

"Despite the efforts of my best hackers and intelligence officers, we cannot find accurate information on you." Fury stated simply.

She breathed slowly, "That's because I don't exist. My parents died, and I was in an orphanage for a year."

Fury interjected, "We discovered that but then the trail goes cold. Speculations. Death certificate. Rumors."

"The Red Room recruited me from the orphanage at 8. Until a few years ago I didn't know that I didn't exist. I didn't even know my real name. They change everything about you. Break you down and build you into what they want. I was brainwashed to believe I was Natasha Alianovna Romanova. For 10 years I was her. When I graduated and left the Red Room I learned differently. Natalia Alianovna Romanova."

He nodded and wrote something down. "The doctors and scientists are impressed."

"You're not?" She asked quickly.

"To be determined, Ms. Romanova."

"From 8 years old, I trained every day from sun up to sun down. Weapons practice, combat training, lessons in languages, stealth, technology, and the basic classes part of a normal education. Ballet to improve agility, stamina and endurance. At 18 I graduated. Perfect scores in every test." She detailed. "Brainwashed every day. Extra brainwashing for misbehavior or weakness. Girls were killed if they were too weak."

"Who are you, then?" He asked.

A question she didn't know how to answer. She was made into who she was not of her own choice. She was who Russia and Madame wanted her to be. "I don't know. I am no one."

Fury looked shocked, "They did a number on you. Why didn't you leave?"

"I had nothing to live for. In the Red Room I was powerful. Strong. I was perfect. That's where they got you. When you have nothing like I did, it was the thought of them needing me that kept me there. I believed it. That they couldn't operate without me." She admitted, "Plus they handcuff you to the beds every night. After graduation… They enhance you with serums. Quickened healing, faster, and stronger."

He wrote down some more things. Natasha sighed, "Clint told me I was lied to."

Fury nodded, "The KGB was good at that. The fact that they kept it going and kept someone as smart as you under their thumb is impressive."

It wasn't impressive when all they had to do was press a button and brainwash her. There was no fight. Comply or be killed. "I want the chance to make my own decisions. I don't want to work under lies anymore. I want a chance… to make it right."

Fury looked up at her and shut the file. "Glad to hear that."

He motioned for her to wait and he left the room. It was about 10 minutes before he returned and handed her a leather-bound folder. She opened it and stared.

"Given the nature of your activity in Russia we need to protect you. You're no stranger to alias' I assume."

She opened a small booklet and stared at a picture they had taken of her earlier. An American passport, ID, papers setting up a whole life for her under a new name.

"Natasha Romanoff." She said softly.

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Romanoff." Fury nodded and opened the door motioning for her to follow.

In the days after that she was put through a training program that she often told Fury was too easy. Clint held true on his promise and vouched for her. He appeared almost daily and checked in on her during her early days at headquarters. She lived in the facility for the time being. Soon enough Clint became her partner on many missions over the course of the next year. She owed him her life, and in strengthened their friendship.

Natasha was present the day his son was born. She made her first normal friend, his wife Laura. She knew about Clint's family when no one else did.

"Nat." Clint smiled from the doorway of her private room at headquarters. She was lounging on her bed watching a movie.

"Hey." She smiled and sat up.

"C'mon, Laura's making a roast. You can't spend Christmas alone. I'm taking a jet, sure Fury won't mind."

She laughed and shut the TV off, "Of course he will mind." She reminded and tugged on tan boots and a sweater. She spent most weekends with the Barton's if she wasn't on mission with him. They were crucial in her new life in America. The only people she really trusted.