Bad Aim Chapter 9

By: Cadet Deming

I don't own the rights to The Avengers, Marvel and Disney do, so please don't sue. Rated T for adult language, situations, and violence. Please read and review. It's much appreciated.

Latveria

Natasha Romanoff stared through her window across the street. She watched a castle keep of some sort, converted to be the quarters of Doctor Victor Von Doom.

She checked her watch. Clint hadn't called her in 2 days. She wondered if she should be alarmed. They weren't officially working together or on any set schedule, so it wasn't as if he had missed a call-in checkpoint.

Clint's suggestion that one of them may not be dealing with the real Doctor Doom haunted her. Her previous surveillance wasn't panning out, so she figured it was time to step things up.

Natasha covered her skintight SHIELD issued bodysuit with a local peasant woman's garb. Latveria was a mixture of cultures, most of them poor. Her disguise consisted of a shirt with faded Cyrillic writing and a flowered skirt. She covered her head and face with a paisley scarf to mimic the local Muslim women. The scarf concealed her identity as well as keeping any stray hairs from leaving evidence. She placed her additional SHIELD equipment in a box and hid it under milk bottles.

She stared at her reflection in a mirror. Her stance was confident and primed for action. Natasha allowed her posture to slump and her body language to give off the hopelessness of a woman caught in poverty and surrounded by civil war.

She walked to the rear kitchen door of Doom's quarters and knocked. A man dressed in black answered the door.

Natasha said in Roma, "I am here with the milk delivery."

He eyed her suspiciously. "The milk is not due until tomorrow."

"I am early then."

He looked her up and down. Apparently deeming her harmless, he let her in.

She didn't see anyone else in the kitchen, so she sprayed him with knockout gas. Natasha caught him before he could fall to the ground. The spray made the average victim unconscious for 2 hours.

She dragged him into a nearby pantry. She patted him down for weapons and found a gun. It was more technologically advanced than a normal pistol and had "A.I.M." emblazoned on it. She confiscated it and bound his hands, mouth and feet. She jammed the lock on the pantry door so he wouldn't have an easy exit when he did wake up.

Natasha crept through the halls, planting surveillance equipment in rooms that seemed important and heavily-travelled. New technology rested on aged furniture. Ancient artifacts commingled with cutting edge technology.

She saw men in military uniforms and she adjusted her walk to that of someone who belonged there. She strolled past them and they paid her no mind.

Natasha marched up the circular steps of a stairwell turret. The stone under her feet was well-worn from decades, or perhaps even centuries of use. Cobwebs covered the uppermost corners. She wondered what species of spiders created them. It would be ironic if they were black widows.

She reached the second story and padded over the carpeting. This area seemed more grandiose. The furniture was more elaborate, and colorful tapestries decorated the walls. It looked designed to fit a king, or at least a potential dictator.

One room was guarded by a man in military garb. He shifted the rifle in his arms, but didn't point it at her.

She fluttered her eyelashes and said coyly to the guard, "I have delivery for this room."

He said, "I have no word on this from Dr. Doom."

"Do you want to question Doom's wishes?"

He turned pale and waved her past him. "Go right ahead."

Natasha entered, locking the door behind her. The bedroom was the most sumptuous place she had seen in the castle. It told her a lot about the owner if he let his followers dwell in poverty while he kept the luxury for himself.

The bed was a large four poster covered in gilded metallic paint. A green comforter that looked like heaven to touch enveloped it. The comforter was folded into sharp points and the pillows were completely puffed up. The bed didn't appear to be slept in or used.

Doom sat at a carved desk with various computers and devices. A holographic 3D projection of a globe made up of green and blue lights hovered above it. The lights cast an eerie glow on Doom's face.

For a moment Natasha thought his face was a skull, but it was a metal mask with holes for his eyes and breathing. What little she could see of his face twisted into an expression of malevolence.

He bellowed, "Who dares disturb Doom in his chambers?"

Natasha said in accented Arabic, hoping he couldn't speak the language, "I'm sorry, sir. I was just following orders."

He answered her in perfect Arabic, "Who gave you orders?"

"He did not tell me his name."

Doom stood and strode to her. He was a giant, taller even than Thor or Loki. At least he was taller in the armored suit he covered himself with.

He sneered, "You are a foolish peasant woman. You take orders from a man whose name you do not even know."

"I do not question. I just do as I am told to do."

"Uncover your face."

Her eyes widened in not quite so pretend fear. "I cannot. It is against Islam. My religion forbids it. I do not see you taking off your mask in front of me."

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close. "Funny, I don't hire any Muslim people. For the same reason that Muslims don't hire Romas and Romas don't hire Slavs and Slavs don't hire Symkarians."

Natasha kicked him in the crotch with all of her might. On a normal man it should have worked and had him doubled over in pain, but his metal armor protected him from head to toe. Natasha felt like her knee was split in two. She tried to run, but her knee was too badly injured.

He tackled her to the ground. "You dare attack me in my own home?! Whoever your master is will pay for this insult."

"I don't have a master, you dolt. Just an employer. And my boss isn't someone you want to tick off."

"I don't tiptoe around the whims of those who dare oppose me."

"If you're hiding inside a suit of armor like a coward, no wonder you can't tiptoe."

He ripped the scarf off of her face. "You insolent little…"

His eyes widened through his mask holes. "I know you. I've seen you before. You're one of those Avengers. You're the Black Widow."

To be continued

Author's note: I initially wasn't going to write any chapters from Natasha's point of view, but due to popular demand I'll include her side of the story.