Three Months Earlier
The team filed into the conference room at The Avengers' Compound in their usual order: Steve and Vision (fifteen minutes early), Peter, Bruce, Wanda, and Sam right on time, and Tony striding in five minutes late.
"I have to admit, when I heard you wanted to see me, I was hoping for more of a one-on-one situation." Sam joked as he plopped down in his chair.
"Keep dreaming, Wilson." She shot him a side-eyed glance, a shadow of a smile on her face.
The room held a strange energy, remaining unusually quiet as everyone waited for Natasha to explain the reason for calling the meeting. Steve and Tony had historically been the only ones to call official team briefings.
"I found a girl." Natasha slid a stack of folders across the table.
"Hey, love is love. As long as I can watch." Tony grinned.
"Shut up." She ignored him and clicked a button on her computer, bringing a set video footage to life on the screen behind her. "Her name is Charlotte Julianna Rossi. She's 21 years old, according to her Drivers' License. According to her birth certificate, she's closer to 100."
The room fell quiet, Steve and Natasha exchanging a sobering gaze. The screen on the wall showed several clips at once, all featuring a pretty young girl. Her hair was different colors across all of the clips, some showing her with long, blonde locks and some showing a cropped dark haircut with severe bangs, others showing varying shades of red.
"She's hardly been on the radar until the past two years. In that time period, she's been hospitalized seventeen times for injuries consistent with overuse and extreme fatigue. Rhabdomyolysis, kidney damage, severe muscle strain, dehydration, the list goes on. Every single time, she's admitted in a critical state but checks herself out against medical advice less than 24 hours later."
As the team shuffled through the documents in front of them, putting pieces together, Natasha continued.
"I found her because she made headlines earlier this year after getting kicked out of Team USA Olympic trials for women's gymnastics. They tried to cover it up, didn't want to get any questions they didn't have an answer for. From what I was able to gather, she came out of nowhere, competed at the last National Championship meet as an unaffiliated gymnast, and won every event with a perfect score. The entire gymnastics community was up in arms about it. They tried to figure out where she came from, where she trained, but there was nothing. No record. Of course, Team USA begged her to come to the tryout, she blew them away. Somehow, one of the families of the gymnasts at risk of losing their spot got her kicked off for use of performance enhancing drugs. The thing is, there's no record of her ever even being tested."
"No offense, Nat, but we aren't exactly looking to start a Cirque Du Soleil Troupe here."
"Tony, shut the fuck up and let me finish." She gave him an austere look as he put his hands up defensively.
"Since then, she's won a dozen amateur MMA matches, three boxing matches, and won fifteen straight games of poker before being banned from the majority of Vegas casinos. She's making her money drifting, picking up random things and kicking everyone's ass at them. Clearly, it's not without a toll, if you look at her hospital records."
She clicked a button and the screen shifted, sending a chill down everyone's spine. A grainy document had been scanned in, the HYDRA symbol emblazoned on the top of the letterhead.
"Project Mockingbird. It was pioneered two years after the Winter Soldier project. Specifically, it was initiated only ten days after a record seventeen HYDRA agents were critically injured trying to contain their primary test subject during an attempted escape."
Wanda spoke slowly. "You mean…"
"Bucky." Steve breathed out.
"Right." Natasha was solemn. "I didn't want to leave him out of this, but I didn't know how he'd handle it. I figured it was better to tell him once we have more information."
Steve nodded, brow knit together in concern.
"Okay, so I think I'm tracking all of this, but if you could - just so I'm clear, what exactly does all of this mean?" Peter leaned forward nervously.
Taking a deep breath, Natasha answered. "This is just a hypothesis, but I don't see much wiggle room. It appears that when HYDRA was working on the Winter Soldier project, on Bucky…they had difficulties containing him. Controlling him. When it became apparent that ordinary agents couldn't do it, they took to experimenting on others. Orphans, mainly. People no one would miss. Trying to create something…someone to be able to stand against him."
She pulled out a chair and sat for the first time, regarding all of them seriously. "They had dozens of test subjects. The majority of them didn't survive the initial round of experimentation. A few others suffered complications in cryo. She's the only one left."
"Forgive me for being so forward," Vision spoke up. "But, if I'm understanding correctly, we have reason to believe that Ms. Ross, she was created to oppose Sergeant Barnes."
"Yes." Natasha avoided Steve's eyes like her life depended on it. "I believe that Charlotte Julianna Rossi was enhanced by HYDRA as a sentient weapon with the primary purpose being containment and control of The Winter Soldier."
Present Day
"Thank you." Natasha gave a polite smile to the driver as he opened the car door for her to step out. They'd arrived at the Wynn, one of - if not the nicest hotels on the Las Vegas strip.
She'd wasted no time after the mission was approved, spending the majority of the flight putting on full glam and finishing it off with the perfect red lip. Black cocktail dress, gold heels that caught and reflected all the Vegas lights, studded clutch purse with cash, lipstick, and a pistol. Tony had offered to book her a hotel room through his connections, but she'd waved him off.
They'd be back in New York by sunrise.
It didn't take long for her to locate Charlotte. Though 8pm was early by Vegas accounts, the casino was lively. Natasha dodged several attempted pick-up attempts by drunken gamblers as she wove through the tables to her end destination: the high stakes room. A sultry smile paired with her low cut dress made quick work of gaining entry. It wasn't unusual for beautiful women to be welcomed into the high stakes room. The only thing rich men loved more than blowing money was doing it in front of a pretty audience. Nat slipped into the intimate room, the air full of cigar smoke and jazz music.
Seated at a small table was a pretty brunette, eyes dark with smudged shadow and lips glossy. A martini sat in front of her, completely untouched, judging by the lack of a gloss print on the rim. Charlotte tapped the table in front of her, signaling for the dealer to give her another card. She already showed a nineteen, meaning standard play said she shouldn't hit. The crowd murmured, exchanging glances. In the betting circle was a stack of $1,000 chips that Natasha estimated to be around $20,000.
To the shock of everyone but Natasha and Charlotte, the dealer flipped a third card to reveal a two of diamonds. Blackjack.
Charlotte grinned, leaning back and relishing in the applause as the dealer paled and began counting out chips to pay her. Nat cracked a smile but immediately felt a jolt in her stomach. The dealer had given a nod to the guard at the front, who was now touching his earpiece and speaking softly. She couldn't hear him over the music, but his lips read clear as day: She must be counting.
Acting quickly, Nat stepped to the table, making herself wobbly and heavy lidded.
"Ohmygod, THERE you are," she put a hand on Charlotte's shoulder, who immediately tensed. "I've been looking for you everywhere, c'mon, the girls are waiting with the Uber,"
She squeezed Charlotte's shoulder and briefly broke character to give an urgent look, hoping she'd pick up on the fact that the drunk persona was intentional.
"Oh, look at the time," She said in mock surprise. "It's been fun, don't have too much fun without me!" Her manicured hands slid stacks of chips into her purse, a few falling to the floor with wide-eyed spectators locked onto them.
"Get yourself something nice, Gary." She flicked a purple $1,000 chip to the dealer who fumbled to catch it. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw two men approaching them from across the casino floor. She elbowed Charlotte, who tracked her gaze and clocked them immediately.
Waving her arm, Natasha knocked the still-full martini glass onto the felt of the Blackjack table. The gin spewed across the cards and glass splintered on contact. "Oh, jeez, I'm so sorry, I really shouldn't have taken that last shot," She called the apology over her shoulder into the chaos that descended over the mess, linking her arm through Charlotte's as she fumbled to close her small bag around the massive amount of chips.
They slid out the door under the cover of the bachelorette party walking past, slipping right into the middle of the drunken parade.
"What's going on?" The brunette hissed through a fake smile, keeping the facade up.
"You were about to get busted. I thought I'd help a girl out." Nat said through her own plastered smile, eyes darting around the room in search of their next problem.
"I know what I'm doing."
"I know. That's why I'm here in the first place."
Charlotte side-eyed her as they walked through the casino, still covered by the herd of pink boas and giggles.
"Stark sent you."
"No."
"I'm not stupid, I-"
"He's the stupid one. I wanted to come in the first place, it was him who thought the testosterone brigade was the way to go. We can get into that later, but right now we've gotta move. There's two coming up -"
"Yeah, six o'clock. Two more probably waiting around the corner up ahead. If we cut through the floor, we can make it to the cashier before they get to us."
Natasha raised an eyebrow, impressed at how they jumped to the same wavelength. "You still want to cash out?"
Charlotte grinned, a wild gleam in her eye. "Duh."
A few minutes later, they'd steered the group of girls to the cashier and fanned them out so that each of the six windows had two girls standing in front of it. Each of them with roughly $4,000 worth of chips in their hands. They got through the exchanges in record time, leaving the bachelorettes in a flurry of drunken "iloveyou's" with a stack of bills to show their appreciation for the help.
"That should cover the rest of their weekend." Nat smirked as they strode quickly to the lobby, positioning her body slightly in front of Charlotte so as not to draw attention to the thick wads of cash she was zipping into her bag.
"I don't know, I can blow three grand pretty quickly on my own, let alone with ten of my closest friends."
"I don't think I want ten friends."
Charlotte matched her pace, the bag finally zipped. "I don't even know ten people, I just thought it sounded good."
They reached the front doors, nodding at the valet who held the door open for them.
"I have a driver, this way." Natasha cocked her head to the front of the valet line, full of sports cars and sleek SUVs. Glancing over her shoulder at the casino, the men seemed to have lost them in the crowd. Charlotte weighed her options quickly, deciding that taking a getaway car with the Avenger was preferable to whatever awaited her if she stayed.
They slid into the backseat of the black sedan, breathing quickly from adrenaline.
"You're back so soon, Ms. Romanoff." The driver called from the front seat.
"It was getting stale, figured I could find something more fun."
The driver's eyes crinkled in a knowing smile in the rearview mirror. Charlotte had a feeling he knew much more than he should, choosing to live in ignorance.
"You hungry?" the redhead asked nonchalantly.
"Starving."
The duo sat in a secluded corner booth of a dark bar. The remnants of two burgers sat strewn across the plates, a few leftover fries getting cold. Natasha signaled to the bartender for another round of martinis, extra dirty.
"Who knew the best burgers in Vegas would come from a strip club?" Charlotte downed the remnants of her drink to make room for the new one.
"Hey, I'm no stranger to Vegas."
"So I can tell." She shifted to sit up straighter. "Do you wanna get into your sales pitch now, or should we wait for the drinks?"
Natasha remained casual, leaning against the pristine leather of the booth. "There's no sales pitch. Just an offer. Take it or leave it."
"And the offer is…?"
"Come with me. Back to New York. Live at the compound. Be around people like you."
Charlotte shook her head. "There are no people like me."
"Spare me the pity party bullshit." Nat leaned in. "I don't know the specifics of your story, but I know enough to tell you that we are like you."
Taken aback by her forcefulness, the brunette narrowed her eyes.
"Enhanced individual? Pretty much all of us. Dark, twisty past? We've got 'em. Done things we aren't proud of? Goes without saying. No friends, no family? We have a very dysfunctional Thanksgiving of our own." She gave a small smile. "Experimented on, dehumanized, controlled, stripped of autonomy? Specifically by one particular Nazi rogue science division?" Natasha changed her tone, speaking gently. "One of my very best friends knows a little something about that, too."
Charlotte tensed, eyes glazed as she stared into the dark room in front of them. "James Barnes." It wasn't a question.
"We call him Bucky."
Chewing her lower lip, Charlotte seemed lost in her thoughts. A cocktail waitress interrupted with two fresh drinks, setting them down with a smile. Eyes still defocused, she reached out to sip the drink slowly.
"I don't think it's smart."
"Why?" Natasha took a sip of her own. "There's nowhere safer for you. The Compound is literally the most secure place on Earth, except maybe Wakanda, and before you say you're worried about hurting someone there - don't. We live with Dr. Banner, who you probably know as the Hulk. I'm sure you're a force to be reckoned with, but I can assure you that even on your worst day you wouldn't be putting us at risk."
She spun the wooden stick adorned with olives between her fingers, thinking. "I don't want to be an Avengers. I'm not a hero. I don't want to fight."
"Then don't." Natasha shrugged. "I'm not a military recruiter. I just remember what it was like to be alone, scared. Unsure where to go or who to trust. I'm offering you a home and a group of people you can count on. Anything else is up to you."
Charlotte smirked. "You're much better at this than the last three."
"Story of my life." She rolled her eyes.
"So, what would happen if I said yes? Hypothetically."
"Well, hypothetically, I have a jet waiting at the private airfield. We'd go to whichever hotel you're renting the penthouse out of, get your stuff, and fly back tonight."
"Why do you assume I'm renting out a penthouse?"
Natasha grinned, biting an olive off the stick. "It's what I would do."
Narrowing her eyes, Charlotte cocked her jaw. "I'm at the Cosmo."
"Great choice." She held her martini up, signaling for a toast. "How about this, we go out tonight. Do Vegas right. Do it big. If you have fun, you come back with me and try living with us. If you don't have a good time, I'll accept that I'm no better than the guys and go back on my own. We won't bug you anymore, but the offer will always stand."
"You know, a bet predicated on having fun in Las Vegas seems like a very unfair advantage." She raised her own glass.
"I've never been much of a gambler."
"That makes one of us." Charlotte grinned. "You're on."
It was just after 4:00am when their dutiful driver opened the door on the tarmac. Heels in hand, two sets of bare feet walked up the steps into the sleek jet, Stark Industries emblazoned on the side.
"I still can't believe they kicked us out." Charlotte rubbed her temples as she sunk into the white leather seat.
"Well they don't really encourage doing backflips off of the craps table." Natasha sat down across from her.
"Here I thought Vegas was the one place where anything goes." She dropped her purse on the table in front of them, the thud echoing in the empty cabin. "At least we made out alright."
"I expect a cut for saving your ass."
"I'll consider it."
"You like pancakes?" Natasha punched a few buttons on a screen embedded in the wall.
"Um, who doesn't?"
Grinning, the redhead slid her feet onto the seat, getting comfortable. "They'll be ready in fifteen. Probably best if we get something in our stomachs besides tequila."
"If I knew you were offering private jets and pancakes at four in the morning, I might have been an easier sell."
"What are you talking about? You hardly put up a fight." She winked.
"Whatever, you won fair and square. I'm just holding up my end of the deal." Charlotte tucked her knees under her, relaxing into the chair as the plane ascended.
"We've got a couple hours back to New York. Eat, rest, and we'll be there before you know it. If you aren't up for meeting people when we land, I'll sneak you to your room. You can socialize when you're not coming off of an all-night bender."
"What, you don't think I'd make a good first impression right now?" She joked, fully aware of her smeared eye makeup and tousled hair.
"Au contraire, I think you'd make too good of an impression. I'm just trying to give the guys a fighting chance here."
Giggles subsiding, Charlotte looked out the window at the pinpricks of light shrinking beneath them. The smell of pancakes and overly sweet syrup filled the air as a stewardess wheeled the food out towards them.
"Natasha?"
"Hm?"
"I'm glad you came."
She smiled, warmth extending to her eyes.
"Me too."