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Natalia watched the dancers practicing. She hated them all, every single one of them. Her vision twitched and blurred before her, yet another side effect of the stupid serum they pumped into her veins. It made her stronger, jump higher, and her senses processed far more than before. Everything was assaulting her at once. The dancers' perfect forms, the smell of sweat and dust in the theater, and the sound of loud tinny music, interrupted with the occasion skip and scratch of the record player, echoing in her ears made her feel like she was going insane. Natalia was already insane though. She was fully aware of that. A little voice in her head was telling her to follow orders and just leave.
Why did they make her leave when they got to stay? It wasn't fair. They wouldn't hesitate to slit their sweethearts' throats if they were ordered to. They didn't know the pain and longing that accompanied feeling something beyond their idiotic programming. There were six of them in all. Six had survived the Black Widow Ops training program. Six, her age had survived the Red Room and moved on to working for the ballet company. It was the perfect cover for moving back and forth behind the Iron Curtain. Cold war be damned, there were still people that wanted good Russian ballet.
Natalia put glass in the shoes of the women she somewhat liked. They left early, wondering which of them decided to sabotage ballerinas with minor roles in the production. Natalia never heard what happened to them. She assumed that they continued to do their jobs until they died. Perhaps they were injected with the same serum. Perhaps they ran. It mattered little. The three that remained were those that had to go. She slipped in and cut one's throat. The other two reacted, but they were far too late and Natalia was far too good, her senses heightened, her strength increased, when, in reality, she probably still would have been able to kill them.
Ivan found her sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, her white dress drenched in the blood of the dead Black Widows. He didn't react. If anything, Ivan's expression was a little bland for her tastes. She would've thought that the shock value of three of his precious students lying dead would have done something to induce a reaction. Then again, she had always been his favorite.
"Natalia, why did you do this?" He asked at last, exasperated like she was a child that drew on the walls.
Natalia didn't hesitate in responding, "I can't go home."
"Natalia—"
"I'll do whatever you want. I always have. But not that."
"It's cleanup—"
"Let him be." Natalia unfurled, standing up, towering over him from her vantage point on stage, "Three ballerinas were murdered last night and one went missing. A loving husband mourns his wife. That is far more plausible than three ballerinas dead, one missing, and the missing one's husband murdered in his bed or gone as well."
"Natalia. You must trust me." Natalia cocked her head to the side.
"Must I?"
"If you want to go quietly, then yes."
"All I ever wanted to do was please you. Why is it never enough? Why is it never enough that I let people stick needles all over my body? I became the best, just for you. I won't ever see him again. I won't talk to him again. I've been good. I'll be good."
Ivan shook his head, "You should know better than to think I'd agree to it."
Natalia knew that he would, even if he never said so.
"Natalia—Natalia—look it's over, you don't have to do this, you really don't." Natasha banged on the door, but she found herself unable to actually reach for the handle. Natalia couldn't hear her anymore. Natasha gripped her hair, pacing back and forth in front. She jumped back as if she had been burned, to make sure that the contents of her box were still intact.
"Natalia." Natasha called out, "Natalia? You know, it might not work.. You don't have to—"
Natalia had too much information. Natasha shouldn't have given her knowledge of Bruce's condition, but Natalia wouldn't have been convinced it was all that resided in her mind. Slowly, Natasha settled on the sofa and wrapped herself around the little blue box in the blue room that she used to hide from the Red Room. Trying to reason with Natalia was like trying to reason with a scared little girl with a gun when fire was raining down from above.
Hopefully, Bruce would be able to run when it counted and if it didn't work—then the danger Natalia and by default, Natasha, presented to entirety of the world would be neutralized. Natasha wouldn't want to see the sort of thing killing her would do to Bruce's already fragile mental and emotional state, but, at the same time, couldn't stand the idea of the serum actually working. Natalia would get her way in it, pulling the rug out from under Natasha and smothering her with it.
All she needed to do is remove a constant.
Natasha took a deep, shaky breath and for the first time in years, she felt a burning urge to cry. She placed the box carefully beside her and watched, only as an observer, how far Natalia will go for relief.
"Shit."
That was the only thing that the usually verbose Tony had to say after Steve reported recent events in a manner that was as quick and streamlined as possible. Lena was called up to say her piece to the man on the screen. Bruce noticed that she seemed to be getting more and more used to constantly explaining herself and her actions. The girl would sigh, take a deep breath, and say the exact same thing she had to repeat to Clint, Steve, and Wanda. She allowed Wanda to search her mind and she didn't seem to find anything wrong. Bruce still didn't trust her though. How could he? The worst image in the world was presented to him, a worst case scenario that Bruce was able to push back before Wanda tore it out.
Bruce blinked, realizing that he was zoning as Tony was throwing information at them at a rapid fire pace.
"—Tony—"
"No, no, no you don't understand, Steve. If Lena's right—which she may be—look at the Winter Soldier—" Steve visibly cringed, "—She's destructive, manipulative, and dangerous—oh wait, that's Natasha as per usual. Okay, let me rephrase that. If she's gone all dark side on us and is perfectly capable of killing for no reason, then she's far, far more dangerous than Dr. Banner on an off day."
Bruce shook his head, "I don't want—"
"Natasha has clearance that none of us have. She could blow up the side of the planet if she wanted to—"
"She wouldn't—" Bruce tried to argue.
"She's not herself." Lena muttered darkly, "This is why she wanted me to kill her."
"Okay—" Clint, who had previously remained the silent observer spoke up, "We change the codes, mix things up—"
"I'm working on it." Tony replied, "Why do you think I keep looking away? But nooooo, SHIELD is averse to the idea of randomly changing things on Natasha—I'm trying to explain the situation—"
"Okay, Tony, get back to us when you've got Natasha locked out of the system." Steve looked like he was in considerable pain as he choked out the next words, "She cannot be trusted right now."
Bruce liked that "Right now" implied that they would be able to depend on her again soon, after they had everything suited. He understood why Captain America was many people's favorite hero: His optimism was almost infectious.