Daredevil offers Natasha his (burner) phone number after their first sparring session at the boxing gym Natasha is trying not to read too much into. Showing her this location that he obviously has history with, it's placing a lot of trust in her, and she doesn't want him to regret it.
"Just in case," he says as an explanation.
Natasha raises an eyebrow. "Just in case you need backup and Clint is unavailable?"
"Just in case you need backup and Clint is unavailable," he corrects with a cocky grin.
Natasha fights back a smile of her own. "Might I remind you that I just beat you in a spar?"
Mike shrugs. "We'll see about next time," he says.
"So there'll be a next time."
"Sure. Have to beat you at least once." After a few seconds, his humor fades away, and he nods seriously towards where Natasha has stuffed her phone into her pocket. "My number...it's not known to many. I trust that you won't abuse it."
"I won't," she promises. He must believe her, somehow—despite her being a spy, despite lying being her job—because he simply nods.
She wants to say, I don't make promises easily. But that would be, perhaps, too much of her soul to bare.
There've been kids going missing around Manhattan. Lonely, orphaned, and unwanted kids. The only reason missing person reports have been filed is that the various orphanages and foster homes these children come from don't want to be held liable for what they think is just another runaway.
Natasha knows better. All of these incidents are not isolated. Something's off about the whole situation, and she's been keeping an eye on it just in case she can do something about it, but this really isn't in her or SHIELD's or the Avenger's purview.
It's Tony who finally makes the connection.
Natasha is begrudgingly impressed. She hadn't been aware that he'd been working on this unofficial case on his own.
(She should know by now not to underestimate him.)
"I finally caught the serial kidnapper on video," he says during a team meeting.
Steve, who's also been somewhat aware of all the missing children, clasps his hands together on the table. "That's good news," he says earnestly. "Do you think they're connected to all of the cases, or just some?"
Tony sighs. "No way to know for sure unless someone, y'know, asks the guy." He shows them all a picture of the perpetrator in mid-stride next to the latest missing kid, Ann, looking up at him with something like adoration, something like gratefulness.
It makes Natasha sick to the stomach. Kids are so innocent and so easy to manipulate.
You were one of those kids once, she thinks to herself. She forcefully turns her attention back to the projected image, even as Clint, sitting next to her, gently nudges her foot with his own.
"Have you told the local police about this?" Bruce asks from across the conference table. "I mean, missing kids is pretty serious, but surely they can handle it with this information."
"I think we'd be overkill," Clint agrees with a nod.
And Natasha—
Natasha frowns, leaning forward towards the image as she examines it more closely, examines the man more closely.
Shit.
"I mean, I thought so too, considering the guy's old and blind, or maybe the blind part's an act, I dunno," Tony says, "but then I ran him through facial recognition and he's, like, no one? There's nothing on him."
"Let me guess," Clint says, "you then hacked into SHIELD files to see if there's anything you missed."
Tony points at him. "Got it in one, Birdbrain!"
"And also let me guess," Natasha says, more subdued, trying to ignore the shiver down her spine, "you found a lot of caution tape and redacted files."
"Yep," Tony says. "Who is this guy that even SHIELD doesn't wanna mess with him?"
"I don't want to sound dumb," Bruce starts, "but like Tony said, the guy's old and blind, with the cane and all. What damage could he possibly do?"
"Well, he's responsible for the missing kids," Steve points out.
Clint, who's been tense for the past minute or so, says, "You shouldn't underestimate people like that, guys. Maybe he's like, a super secret ninja or something."
"He is a super secret ninja," Natasha mutters. They all turn towards her, eyes wide. "From a super secret ninja organization."
"There's more of them?" Tony asks in horror.
Natasha nods. "Ran into a few of them once back when I was still with the Red Room. They were fighting other super secret ninjas from another secret ninja organization. Apparently, they've been sworn mortal enemies or something for centuries."
Clint leans forward to press his forehead against the table with a dull thunk. "This is blowing my mind," he says with not a small amount of amusement. "Ninjas? Seriously? It seems super cool at first glance, but they are kidnapping kids, so…"
Steve grimaces. "How come we haven't heard anything about them? How come SHIELD hasn't done anything about them?"
"They're secret for a reason, Cap." Natasha smirks. "As for SHIELD…"
Steve's not going to like this answer. "What?" he asks with furrowed brows.
"There's an unstated agreement not to deal with them. They're ancient organizations, founded centuries before SHIELD or HYDRA or the Red Room. They don't mess with us, we don't mess with them." She frowns. "I'm surprised we even know about this mission of theirs. They usually come and go as they please, with no one else the wiser." The Red Room kept tabs on them—the Chaste and the Hand—but Natasha knows even their info wasn't the most comprehensive.
She's regretfully using that limited information to her advantage now.
"Maybe this guy's just sloppy," Tony says as Steve's face becomes more and more set in stone.
Natasha shakes her head. "This guy's usually better than that. He trains"—she grimaces—"child soldiers." She can feel Clint's steady gaze, but pointedly doesn't turn to look at him. "One of the ones who do so, at least. That type of thing has to be subtle, since they don't do it in a centralized manner." Like in the Red Room.
"Usually, it's only one or two kids at a time then, right?" Clint asks.
"Usually," Natasha says with a nod. "So, it's strange…"
"Maybe they're running low on child soldiers, or they're planning something big in the near future with them?" Bruce asks. But that would be too simple.
"Or," Tony says suddenly, "maybe he's trying to catch someone's attention. Our attention."
"That's…a very self-centered view of us," Natasha says.
"I mean, we're the first people to protect Earth from an alien invasion. Pretty sure that's something even the ninjas haven't done."
Natasha, unfortunately, has nothing to refute that. "We'll know more when we meet the guy."
"When? Not if?" Steve asks. Natasha glances at him and sees the righteous anger in his eyes that she had been expecting.
She wishes there had been more of that from the adults around her, back when she'd been a child.
"When," Clint agrees. "If he wants our attention, he's got our attention. And I've always wanted to meet a ninja."
Natasha finally turns towards him, eyebrows raised. "Even an asshole ninja who recruits kids to fight his so-called war?"
Clint has a determined set to his jaw. "Especially an asshole ninja who recruits kids to fight a war for him. The kids don't deserve that." You didn't deserve that, his eyes say as he tries to dissect her.
Maybe she'll let him, even though he won't completely understand.
But only after the job is done.
Stick may be a ninja, but even he isn't quite prepared enough to deal with a super soldier, a tech genius with a suit of armor, and especially, the Hulk.
Natasha and Clint still gave him one hell of a fight, though, before the supers had arrived.
It's been a while since she'd last seen him. She'd been a kid, then; simply following orders. She doesn't know if he recognizes her. (She doesn't think her past self would recognize her now.)
It's been a while since she'd last seen him, but there's something about his fighting style that itches at the back of her mind. Like a fly that won't stop buzzing around.
It's familiar, is the thing, and not because she doubts his style of fighting has changed that much over the years. It reminds her of something else…
She can't quite pinpoint it at the moment. She's usually good at locking thoughts and memories and emotions away until they are less of a nuisance, but this idea keeps poking at her.
"Why exactly am I here?" Stick asks, sounding supremely annoyed. His hands are in cuffs behind his back, and he's sat in a chair in one of the conference rooms at Avengers Tower. Smaller than the one they usually use, but good for holding an interrogation without the environment of one, apparently.
Natasha doesn't know why they even bothered. The guy obviously knows what's going on, what's not being said.
But Fury had cautioned them against going too far, so here they are.
"Why don't you tell us?" Tony says, clasping his hands together.
Steve crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking a lot more serious and put together than Natasha feels. "Let's start with your name."
"Stick," is the prompt answer.
Natasha could've told them that.
Clint snorts. "No, seriously," he says. "What is it?"
Stick seems to roll his eyes. "Yes, seriously," he says with acid in his voice.
"Your name is Stick? And you…fight with a stick? Is that where you got the name from?"
"Nope."
Clint stares. "...Okay."
Bruce had opted out of participating in the interrogation, but Natasha can imagine him letting out a long, tired sigh from where he's watching them over the security cameras.
"Let's cut to the chase, then," Steve says, effortlessly bringing them back on track. He leans over the table. "Where are the children?"
Stick scoffs. "You suddenly care now? What about all the other soldiers I've trained?"
"They're children."
"Children, soldiers—same thing with the right training." Stick shrugs nonchalantly, showing no care for their righteous anger nor the idea that this has been a fundamental fact of Natasha's life for a very long time.
She's not even fazed by it now. There will always be more child soldiers in the world than one could possibly know about at any point in time. She has long accepted that she can't do much about it.
Keeping all the children in the world from waging wars is not a war worth fighting.
"Yeah, well, we care about them anyways," Tony says. "Where are they? Figured you'd keep them close."
"I'm not telling you shit," Stick says. "Let me go, or you and SHIELD will sorely regret it."
"We beat you easily enough, surely a few more of you guys wouldn't be much trouble."
Natasha winces. "Tony…"
Stick smirks. "Girly's right. You shouldn't underestimate us."
"Girly can still beat your ass," Natasha bites out, because the word makes her feel small, and she's fought a long time not to feel that way.
Stick tilts his head in her and Clint's direction. It's eerie, how he does that. Also a little familiar. "Pretty sure the two of you have had practice." He grimaces, just a little. "Wasn't a fair fight. But not much is fair in life."
Clint and Natasha share an admittedly confused glance. What the hell is he talking about?
"Things could be more fair if you let these kids be kids," Steve reasons, because he has no idea how any of this works. He and his idealism have no place in this world where kids are brought up to be monsters.
(She had no choice.)
(People rarely have choices, in this world.)
"They're serving a higher mission," Stick says imperiously.
Clint snorts with little humor. "Very cult-like of you."
"If that's what it takes…"
Natasha narrows her eyes at him. "Are you stalling for something? Is that what this is?"
"Yeah. Something really isn't adding up 'bout all of this," Tony says, catching on.
Stick raises his eyebrows. "What does that have to do with me?"
"The kids—"
"I was doing just fine without your interference. You superhero types have never cared about this demographic before. It's why we've been so successful, cultivating the next generation like this. I suppose this time, you're just trying to fluff up your public image or whatever by pretending to care."
Steve has a hurt expression on his face. Someone will maybe have to talk to him after this, but Natasha doesn't think it should be her. "But we do care," he says.
"Not enough to pay attention."
Tony throws his hands up in the air. "Well you certainly have our attention now, which was your intention this time, wasn't it?"
Stick's face remains consciously emotionless for a couple of seconds before he lets out a rough laugh. His shoulders shake with the force of his humor, and he throws his head back to face the ceiling.
Natasha is unsettled, to say the least, though she'd never show it. She has the feeling they've just been played like a fiddle.
Familiarity is still poking at the edge of her mind. Her hands twitch. Maybe muscle memory will awaken whatever thought is struggling to surface.
"I wasn't trying to catch your attention," Stick says condescendingly after he catches his breath.
"Whose attention were you trying to catch?" Tony asks incredulously.
Natasha glances at Clint to see what he makes of the whole situation, and unfortunately sees the seeds of realization in his slightly open mouth and wide, distant eyes.
This mission must be getting to her, or maybe she's just become really slow, if Clint is making this connection before her.
And then it hits. Stick's fighting style is certainly more refined, but the smooth way in which he switches between different forms and adapts to his opponents—traces of that are in someone else's fighting style, someone that all three of them apparently know.
The style has been morphed, certainly, but it is alike enough to suggest a mentor-student relationship. In this case, there are certainly horrifying implications for the age of the student, but no more horrifying than Natasha's own childhood, she supposes.
The lack of boxing roots is what had been throwing her off.
"Now you get it," Stick says with a smug smile that Natasha is tempted to punch off of his face. Steve and Tony both look at her in confusion, and they all almost miss it when Clint stalks up to the guy and does what Natasha had been considering.
Natasha calls a phone number that she didn't think she'd need this soon.
He immediately answers.
"Natasha?" She simultaneously relishes in the sound of her name in his voice, and dreads the fact that she's about to ruin his day. "What's wrong?"
"Hey, Daredevil," she greets. "We've got a problem of yours here, and he isn't too happy about it."
Not depicted in this chapter is the author jumping through hoops to somehow try to fit Stick into this narrative.
Pretty much nonexistent Matt/Nat stuff in this chapter, but I promise this is setup for future Matt/Nat feels!