Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man 2, Thor, or the Avengers, along with the characters, the quotes, and everything else associated with Marvel.
A/N (6-1-14): If you don't want to see a quality decrease then I'd suggest you stop reading after this chapter, but the last time I typed this people ignored me and plunged on, so if you choose to, be conscious that this (and the chapters prior) are rewritten. Plot details might be confusing/not match up, icky 2013 writing, etc. Go forth at your own risk. I update these rewritten chapters at the same time I update my most recent chapters.
The next morning went by in relative peace.
The mansion was still covered in injuries, but the debris had been cleaned up, the bigger holes on the exterior walls boarded up. Stark had again locked himself inside his lab. Potts, passive at the throngs of S.H.I.E.L.D agents crawling and poking around her house, had pulled an all-nighter in her office, working straight into the sunrise.
Natasha was working in her office when Clint came in. He squeezed his eyes shut to the light in his face and came to stand behind her, blocking the sun warming her back, and leaned in to look at her computer screen. "Flushing Meadows, New York? What for?"
"Justin Hammer's exhibiting something at the Stark Expo. Potts wants to see what's up," she explained.
"Wish I can go."
"Ask Coulson. We're leaving this afternoon."
"Can't." Clint rested his chin on her shoulder, his hair brushing her cheek. "I'm leaving, too."
"Hmm?"
"Roswell, New Mexico. Fancy that."
"What is this... Roswell thing, then?"
"Weird atmospheric readings in a nearby town called Puente Antiguo. Word is some kind of worthwhile hammer dropped down from the sky." He gave a bored chuckle. "They want me as a guard."
A hammer? What, was it made of diamonds and gold? "They can't just truck it away or something?"
Clint shrugged.
"How long will you be there?"
"Indefinite, until they finish up research."
No confirmation date, then. He could be there for a few days or a few months. Something about the free-floating timeframe disagreed with her.
"Let's go get your things." Natasha got up. There was an uneasy twist in her stomach, and she tried to coax it down while they drove back to the hotel.
Packing his gear took an unnecessarily long time. Clint had no problem throwing everything together in minutes, yet here they were, taking care to smooth out the creases in folded shirts and triple-checking for equipment.
"Did you leave anything in the bathroom? Better go check."
"Nope, I didn't."
"Are you sure? There's no coming back, you know."
He gave in and turned to do as she told, but before he made it two steps she pulled him to her by a shirt corner and wrapped her arms around him. The clashing smell of sweat and deodorant and sunshine about him washed over her like summer wind, and when she closed her eyes and parted her lips she could taste it.
Then there was a pressure winding around her waist, gathering at her back and tugging her closer to him. Natasha pushed her nose into his shirt and sighed.
"Be careful," she mumbled.
Clint laughed, and the bass of it rumbled against her ear. "Tash, it's a hammer."
"That's the mindset I had for this assignment."
His arms tightened around her. "I heard he got bailed out. Bombed the prison."
"As expected."
"If he's trying for Stark again... I don't want you near him."
"I can't promise anything, Clint."
"As expected."
When they drove back to Stark's, Clint got out of the car, leaned in through the window and pressed his lips to her cheek, and though a breeze blew, the warmth of his kiss feathered and caressed her skin long after it had ended. He ran off, turned around twenty paces later and waved to her.
Engines still whirring, Natasha honked back.
She might not run halfway across the world to tail him, but the same unease he held for her lurked below the surface of her mind.
After she had touched her cheek with the back of her hand enough times to convince herself that there was no heat nor discoloration, she turned off the engines and went inside the mansion.
Saws. First thing that invaded her hearing was the buzz of electric saws. Then it stopped-replaced by drilling; on and off, on and off. Back to saws. A couple of bangs. For a building in repairs that couldn't be a good sign.
She traced the source of the noise, discovering pipes and wires that straddled hallways and tunneled from floor to ceiling until she came to Stark's lab. At a press of a button she unlocked the door.
A snake of two-feet diameter pipes slithered along the length of the room, held off the floor by chairs, tables, stacks of books, and empty cardboard boxes. Stark, nestled into the mess, had his head dipped low, concentrated on work she couldn't see from her angle.
"The cleaning crew left four hours ago," Natasha said.
"Yes, quite a long time. I just had to—" He jumped back as sparks spluttered, and cursed. "—had to destroy something. Like I'm doing now." He worked for a few more minutes, ignoring her, then looked up, annoyed. "Can you, like, get out?"
She rolled her eyes. "Just don't collapse the ceiling."
Potts was in one of the living rooms, packing a large handbag. "Natalie, you ready to go?"
"Yep."
"Ok, good. What time does Hammer's exhibit begin again?"
"11 pm."
"Today is Saturday."
"Yes."
"All presentations according to the timetable should end by 10:30."
"If it's attention Hammer wants, he's got it."
"Not unlike this." Potts stood, grabbed her handbag, and kicked the coil of Stark's wires by her feet.
They arrived at the Expo at 10:54 PM, just enough time to walk to the Main Pavilion and sit down. The place crawled with people like ants cluttering around a piece of dropped fruit. Colossal fountains and pools stood as sentinels across the grounds, spewing streams and gushes of white-foamed water and colored light shows. A daunting flight of stairs elevated each stage structure, and they were all lighted, still running despite Hammer's presentation being the only one that had extended hours. Potts whispered a few mild threats.
The Main Pavilion, resembling a Colosseum, easily stretched over half a football field, supported by thick steel beams and topped by a flat glass roof. A steady feed of people pumped into its seats, and Potts and Natasha joined them, leaving behind the car for Hogan to take care of.
The front and center seats had already filled by the time they entered. they squeezed into the middle of the far right section and waited for the presentation to begin.
"What do you think Hammer has in mind?" Potts asked. "A better attitude would be a nice surprise."
Music blasted from the overhead sound systems at 11 pm. sharp. Justin Hammer came prancing out the left of the stage in a gray suit. The audience reluctantly applauded. Potts turned to Natasha with a what-is-this face.
Hammer danced and twirled his way to the podium to begin his welcoming speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen, for far too long, the country has had to place its brave men and women in harm's way. But then Iron Man arrived, and we thought the days of losing lives were behind us. Sadly, that technology was kept out of reach. That's not fair, that's not right. And it's just too bad."
"Oh, lord." Potts shook her head.
"Regardless, it was an impressive innovation, one that grabbed headlines the world over." He paused. "Well today, my friends, the press is faced with quite a different problem: They're about to run out of ink."
A few claps. A couple of stagehands ran up to wheel off the podium.
"Ladies and gentlemen, today I present to you the new face of the United States military: The Hammer Drone!" He pointed a finger at the empty stage behind him.
With a click and clank the floorboards retracted. A flock of robotic warriors rose: bulky, ashen metal androids with blue energy slits glaring on their heads.
Natasha would recognize the workmanship anywhere.
That slit of energy appeared on almost every invention Vanko made for Red Room. It was his trademark.
It had to be a coincidence. No way Justin Hammer was working with him; no matter how competitive he got he wouldn't look to a criminal. She only half-listened to the rest of his speech, staring at the drones.
The last piece of the floor slid apart. The thing that rose was no Hammer Drone.
No amount of weaponization would mutilate the look of Stark's suits.
"Oh, hell. Rhodey." Potts shielded a hand in front of her eyes.
Rhodes—so that's where he flew off to—saluted, earning a louder round of applause.
A sound halfway between a whir and a growl grew from the noise, heightening in volume until it overshadowed everything else. The audience swayed to its source: a stream of hot, white energy tearing across the sky to plummet through the hole in the roof. Iron Man landed dead center of the stage seconds later. The crowd erupted, cheering.
Stark put his metal arm over Rhodes' metal back and waved his other hand. Reluctantly, Rhodes joined in.
Potts' breathing was audible.
The next thing that happened cut short her breath altogether.
Rhodes pointed fire at Stark.
The drones followed suit soon after. People began to stir with panic. Then the attack began, and showers of bullets charged for Stark, penetrating the glass roof and raining shards onto the population below. The aerial drones took to the sky. The rest stomped off from their platforms and marched into the crowds, flushing them out of the pavilion faster.
"Natalie, backstage with me." Potts gathered her things and bolted the opposite direction everyone else headed in, paying no mind to the machines looming around her. Natasha grabbed her bag and hurried after her. They doubled down the steps to the programming units, where Hammer and his men were arguing over a computer screen.
"He's locked us out of the mainframe." A fear-ridden voice stammer.
"Who's locked you out of the mainframe?" Potts snapped as she rushed towards the group.
Hammer tried to usher them out. "Please, please, go away. I got this handled."
"Have you now?"
"Yes I do! In fact, if your guy hadn't showed up, this wouldn't be happening. So please now, go away! Thank you!" He turned back to his people.
So even in a situation like this Hammer still prioritized his pride. That wasn't going to work with Natasha; she had her own questions. Roughly, she locked his wrists behind his back and slammed his shoulder down onto the desk in the most painful arm lock she could give out.
"You're gonna tell me who's behind this. Who's behind this?" She twisted his arms against their joints.
"Ivan Ivan Ivan! Ivan Vanko!" He ground into the table.
So it was him. "Where is he?"
"He's at my facility."
Natasha let him go and ran out. She wouldn't hide this time. What use would hiding do her? Nothing. Last time she hid from Vanko had almost ruined this assignment for her. So what if he's there? He had nothing to do with her now. He's just another threat.
When she reemerged into the public the fray had worsened. The drones roamed free around the premises now, firing into clusters of civilians and blasting buildings to crumbles. The police darted around and tried without success to direct order. Hogan waited by the bottom of the stairs, his car behind him.
"No one's answering the phone, what's going on?" He asked.
"Get in the car. Take me to Hammer Industries," she commanded.
"I'm not taking you anywhere!"
"Fine! You want me to drive?"
"No, I'm driving," he retorted quickly. "Get in the car."
Hogan drove like a kid with a bumper car as he tried to ditch the civilians and get on the freeway.
"Where's boss?"
"She'll be fine." Natasha loosened her hair from its pins, took out her S.H.I.E.L.D uniform from her bag and struggled out of her dress in the cramped space. "When we arrive I need you to watch the perimeter," she told Hogan. "I'm gonna enter the facility and take down the target."
He didn't answer. The car lurched. Through the front view window his eyes widened at her, and it registered to her what he was staring at.
"Watch the road," she told him, and lay back on the seat to pull the black fabric over her legs.
"I got it."
Hogan pulled up outside the facility in Queens ten minutes later. He wouldn't let her go in alone, so Natasha gave in and let him help.
The first guard she left for him. She slid two taser disks across the floor at the second one. Electric currents shot up the guard's legs and he crumpled.
The next few guards Natasha took down with her legs alone, knocking them unconscious but not dead. Then another two with stun grenades that took away their vision for a few seconds, giving her time to trip their feet and smash their skulls to the floor. One came at her with a baton in hand. She choked him with the garrote strapped to her waist. While still holding on to the thin rope she kicked another couple to the ground. One of them scrambled up and aimed a can of pepper spray at her. She locked her legs around his throat and twisted to unbalance him, slamming him face down to the ground and snatching the spray from his hands.
The air shifted behind her. Natasha whipped around in time to catch the punch meant for her head. She bent the limb back—snap—and elbowed the shoulder joint on the other arm. All done. She stepped over the limp bodies and walked down the corridors, pepper spraying one of the men who had regained his footing.
There were no maps around, and Hammer didn't tell her where Vanko was, so she kicked open every door in her path. The process slowed her considerably, and Hogan caught up with her.
She booted the last door down the hall. This was it. She held her guns in front of her and wheeled in, her breathing raspy and tight.
The room was empty except for two sentries that hung dead from the ceiling.
"He's gone." The bastard slipped away right when she had him, and she knew exactly where he's headed. She needed to help Rhodes regain command over his suit.
Natasha entered the small room and placed her pistols on the far-end table, where control screens hung. She typed in a code on the keyboard to call up the Mark II suit's controls. Rhodes was rapid-firing at Stark at close range. Her fingers flew over the keys. In moments she gained access to his system. She hit the enter button three times and disabled the armor.
"Reboot complete," she announced. "You got your best friend back."
Stark's face showed up on the screen. "Thank you very much, Agent Romanoff."
Natasha scanned through his physical readings, provided by JARVIS. His organs had cleared of toxins. Overall function improved and most importantly, the element in his chest was no longer palladium.
"Well done with the new chest piece, I'm reading higher output and all your vitals look promising." A smile surfaced on her face.
"Yes. For the moment, I'm not dying. Thank you."
"What do you mean you're not dying?" A new voice butted in.
Potts flashed on the smaller screen above Stark's. "Did you say you're dying?"
"That you? Uh, no. I'm not. Not anymore."
"What's... what's going on?"
"I was going to tell you I didn't want to-"
"You were going to tell me? You really were dying?"
"You didn't let me-"
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT?"
"I WAS GOING TO MAKE AN OMLETE AND TELL YOU."
"Hey, hey," Natasha interrupted. "Save it for the honeymoon. You've got incoming, Tony. Looks like the fight's coming to you."
"Great. Pepper?"
"Are you ok now?" Her voice calmed somewhat.
"I am fine. Don't be mad. I will formally apologize-"
"I am mad."
"-when I'm not fending off a Hammeroid attack."
"Fine."
"We could've been at Venice."
"Oh please."
Tony had JARVIS restart Rhodes' suit. Natasha watched the map on the screen. The drones were approaching fast and they had no time for arguing. "Priorities, Stark..." She muttered.
They took the drones down relatively fast. Hammer's suits were made of flimsy material that gave easily, and they lacked agility.
This couldn't be all.
Natasha zoomed out on the map display. One last icon moved towards Stark: HSD 001. This was it.
"Head's up, you got one more drone incoming. This one looks different, repulsor signature's significantly higher," she warned. The suit material was different also, this wasn't the putty that clothed the other androids. She tried to fetch the details on it but found none. That suit wasn't connected to Hammer's systems; she doubted it connected to anything at all.
She couldn't see what Vanko did to the other two, but from the damage analyses flashing on her screen she had a pretty good idea of what went on. The voltage around Stark's suits' neck areas skyrocketed. Vanko was using those electric whips on them. Except these were much, much more refined. Twice as deadly.
"Come on, genius..." Natasha said to herself. "Think of something. Don't die when you just got your chest figured out..."
Stark didn't disappoint. The screens changed. Energy levels on both their repulsor rays steadily climbed. As she watched the red lines brim the meters she understood how they had demolished the Stark mansion.
A huge energy shockwave rippled rings of bright red from their spot a heartbeat later. Vanko's icon flashed rapidly from the attack's damage, then faded out all together. Gone.
Dead.
The adrenaline rushing through her drained from her veins, Natasha slumped back on the chair behind her and focused on breathing for a few moments. She massaged the ridge of her eyebrows and sighed.
Hogan, who was silent this entire time, spoke up.
"Rushman?... Or is it Romanoff now?"
She laughed. The shakiness in her voice didn't bother her. Something about laughing then unlocked and freed a weight off from her. "I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D operative, came here to watch Tony's balls."
His mouth fell open.
"Take me back to the Expo, we need to finish business."
"Yeah? Aren't you gonna run off now? Back to S.H.I.E.L.D? You know I'm kinda glad you're from S.H.I.E.L.D and not somewhere like the C-"
"Shut up. Or do you want me to drive?"
Note: If you're gonna continue to read, the chapter numbers are gonna look a bit wonky, but the content shouldn't be out of order :)