"Another interruption? Honestly, how do you expect me to get any work done at this rate?" The woman walked forward confidently, annoyed as she wiped her grease coated hands on her blue jeans. Her mess of chocolate brown curls were pulled into a lazy bun. "More financial crap? No more negotiations. My rate is what it is and I'm not willing to change it. What's that old adage? You get what you pay for?" Her hands were calloused and scarred from years of hard work. "Is it a problem? Because I will happily stop working. However, there are very few capable of replacing me, particularly with the ancient tools you expect me to use. Or is it the math you need help with?"

Hands on her hips, she awaited a response from the intimidating figures seated behind a long table at the end of the dull office space. They were the owners and operators of the Medical Engineering Development Corporation, the company that she now worked for. MedCo for short. The trio looked grim, like they were prepared to deliver bad news. But they always looked like that. Fake smiles over grim faces.

They'd introduced themselves several times but she didn't bother addressing them by name. Didn't seem important. A month prior Scarlett signed a contract to do work for the company against her better judgment and each day since they'd interrupted her work with a nonsense meeting. At first they'd been simple enough, discussions of expectations, schematics questions, delivery notifications. The most recent meetings were beginning to sound like threats. Luckily, she was not easily intimidated. In fact, she was usually the one doing the threatening.

"Scarlett," the severe older woman spoke, her graying hair pulled tightly back into a bun. She sat between two men, all wearing similar false smiles, like they'd rehearsed before calling her in. Scarlett liked to imagine how that practice session had gone. The woman clasped her hands together one finger at a time and leaned against the table. Her face was pulled back tight from one too many surgical procedures designed to recapture wasted youth.

"Miss Damien, if you will." Scarlett corrected, her smile fading into a confident glare. Despite her complaints about the constant interruptions, she had important matters to discuss with the trio. The night before she'd received some disconcerting updated specifications for the machines she'd been hired to design and build. Apparently, MedCo thought she was stupid. That she wouldn't notice what they were doing.

"Fine." The woman's eye twitched. "Miss Damien, would you please be seated? We have important matters to discuss."

"Yes, we do." There would be no more pleasantries.

"Oh, you agree?" The man on the left, younger than his peers, adjusted his glasses and gazed curiously over the top of them.

"When you hired us…"

"We hired you. You refused to take the job without Scott Aaronson being hired alongside you. A highly unqualified mechanic at best."

"I was talking." Scarlett narrowed her eyes dangerously. "But since we're arguing trivialities. When you offered me this job I was less than inclined to take it. Your reputation proceeds you. You'd blush if you heard the things they say about MedCo. But you have pursued me for years. I only agreed to this short contract because Mr. Aaronson convinced me it was worth the money. So I suggest you rethink your tone." As the woman made to object, Scarlett spoke over her. "You will wait for me to finish."

The trio behind the table leaned back in their seats, exchanging glances. Their plastic smiles were gone and they waited for Scarlett Damien to say exactly what was on her mind.

"Good." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a folded piece of paper that she'd printed the night before. "When you told me your goal was to revolutionize prosthetics, I was curious. When I found out that you were looking to create them with such precision that they were indistinguishable from the human body, I was intrigued. Intrigued enough to consider the work on my terms. I was to have access to all specifications and goals before the project began. I was to retain all rights to the pieces I create and design. I would have my pay. I would have my assistant. Most importantly, I would have unrestricted access to all supplies required."

"Are you making a point, Miss Damien? Or simply reminding us of our duties. Should we remind you of yours?" The man on the left chuckled with a heavy Russian accent. His attempt to clear the tense air in the room fell flat.

Though innocent upon first glance, Scarlett had a reputation of her own and it was nothing short of ruthless. Yes, she was also renowned for her intellect and skill, but those in the right circles knew her for more nefarious reasons.

"My, my. Impatient, aren't we?" Scarlett unfolded the paper and turned it toward them. "You know, I've been doing this for a long time. You are far from the first shady corporation I've worked for. I'm sure you won't be the last either. If you'd like, I'll teach you a few things I've learned from dealing with others just like you." Approaching the table, Scarlett placed the paper upon it, turning it toward them. The trio squirmed in their seats. Scarlett delighted in their discomfort. When the woman in the middle finally took the paper, Scarlett placed her hand atop it so it wouldn't budge. They already knew what was on the paper.

"Why would you be nervous during meetings with me if we're all on the same team?" A rebellious curl fell in her face. She glared at the trio who glared back. "Do I intimidate you?" They shuffled in their seats. "I doubt that. As reputable as I am? What chance would I stand against an entire corporation?" Scarlett released the paper and the woman picked it up with an anxious glance. "What's more likely is that you're hiding something from me and you're terrified that I'll grow wise to it before my work is finished. These subtle changes you've insisted upon are clever. You thought I wouldn't see the end result, I'm sure. I'm too obviously eager to be rid of you."

"We don't doubt your gift of perception, Miss Damien. But what do you propose we're hiding? We've met every one of your absurd demands." The man with the glasses adjusted them nervously despite the confidence in his tone.

"I don't tolerate lies during business." Scarlett straightened her posture. "And there's only a handful of things I hate more than liars. One of those is liars who work for Stark Industries." Tapping the table she gestured to the paper they held.

"The Stark Industries letterhead?" The woman scoffed. "This is what's upset you? Honestly, how do you know it's not simply a misplaced piece of paper? I've heard you were difficult to work with but this is ridiculous. Besides, why would this upset you? Stark Industries is a reputable company. Does it not comfort you?"

"Don't speak to me like I'm another pathetic lackey you've employed. I'm not desperate for work. Quite the opposite. I took this job because the subject matter intrigued me. The work you proposed could have startling positive repercussions." Scott had talked her into taking the job. It was too long a contract for her. She liked to move from place to place and most of what she agreed to was under the table and far more dangerous.

"What would it matter to you if we were affiliated with Stark?" Glasses adjusted nervously again.

"Ah, yes, I can hear the excuses already. Tony Stark has changed! Ever since his capture in the Middle East? He's a new man! Dedicated to the people! No longer an arms dealer. No longer selling weapons to every terrorist organization offering a buck. He saw the light. He's moved onto energy research! Sure. A poor attempt at shifting his media image. Tony Stark is a joke. And his company is a threat. If you think that this letterhead is the only thing that's made me suspicious of you? Then you're as foolish as the press that believes Tony Stark's redemption arc. That memo is the final straw."

The trio said nothing but the tension skyrocketed.

"Which brings me to my ultimate point. You haven't hired me to build what you said you wanted me to build. These are complex robotics. Robotics you plan on having dissected later by a team more willing than I to do rotten things so they can be weaponized without my consent or knowledge. You knew I'd never agree to design weapons for you, not for a company known for their work with arms manufacturing. Yes, I know that's what your real business does. That and this design? It's more than your run of the mill weapon. So, what drove you to it? Is Tony Stark outsourcing his genius now? Couldn't continue on with his militant wet dreams with the US government and that Senator breathing down his neck? Something about owning unregistered weapons technology, if I recall. So he did what he always does. He handed the problem off to someone else. You. Who handed it off to me." Scarlett approached the chair she'd been offered but did not take a seat.

"After finding this memo, which was accidentally forwarded to me by the way, I did some digging. Found out what you were actually planning. So don't waste our time by denying it. I wish I could say I was surprised by how far your treachery extends. Biological warfare? Illegal experimentation? The kind that Josef Mengele would be proud of. You have a storeroom filled to the brim with Stark Industries weaponry that just happened to be left off of any of your shipping manifests. There were plenty more but I saw enough. Is Stark paying you with weapons to fund your acts of terror disguised as charity? I'll have no part in it. I'm finished and so are you. Consider this my resignation. I've destroyed the designs, schematics, and prototypes. I'll be taking the research I did on prosthetics with me. Lucky for me, there are plenty of companies willing to fund such work." Scarlett took her seat, lazily crossing her legs. "I'm keeping my payment thus far and that's that."

Wiping lazily at her jeans, Scarlett waited for their response. She'd basically given them double middle fingers. The three exchanged glances. The woman in the middle leaned back in her chair, fiddling with her ancient cellphone.

"You are correct about a few things, Miss Damien." She placed her cellphone to her ear. "You can send them upstairs." She hung up and folded her hands on the table, narrowing her eyes. "You're right about many things, actually. Consider us impressed. However, you have missed one very important detail. You're cunning. More cunning than anyone gives you credit for. Your reputation preceded you, of course, but upon first glance, we had our doubts. You're not what we pictured."

Scarlett rolled her eyes. They weren't the first to tell her that she didn't meet their visual expectations of her qualifications. MedCo had anticipated her discovery of their motives. They'd prepared negotiations for such a task. They'd be hard pressed to find something that would sway her. She may have been a monster at times, but Scarlett had her convictions.

"I'm disappointed that you have lost interest in working with us." The woman stood but the two men at her sides didn't budge. They were all staring at her. "Your credentials are impressive. Graduated Summa Cum Laude from Cambridge. Notable medical work in Senegal that gave you a name common in the field of physics and engineering. But then you disappear unless you count a few arrests for drunken and disorderly conduct."

"If you're searching for something to blackmail me with then you'll be hard pressed to find something. I know what I am." Scarlett wasn't easily threatened. She'd disappeared on purpose. Everything after Senegal was done with painstaking planning. Even the arrests were by design.

"Not fond of that sort of blackmail myself. Reputations are so very easy to destroy. But people like you hang their dirty laundry for the world to see or burn it with their bridges." The woman chuckled and then walked to the end of the table to where a television was mounted upon the wall. The door behind Scarlett opened and a guard, clad in black, unarmed, stood waiting. Still, habit had her ready to grab the small caliber gun hidden in her boot beneath her jeans. "I find that reputations like yours are too difficult to maneuver. And as much as I would like to be rid of that smug face of yours, I can't replace you. Not without getting Tony Stark himself and that's out of the question."

"If you know anything about my reputation then you would know you can't keep me here. I won't be strong-armed into doing your work. I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty." Bloody. She meant bloody. The older woman smiled and Scarlett knew this was bad news. What did they have against her? She racked her brain.

"Oh, we are well aware that we can't fight you ourselves. Though you would find you are severely outgunned in this building. You see, I need you in one piece. If we wanted you dead then you would be already."

Scarlett said nothing. The man behind her answered his vibrating phone. He nodded toward the trio and then hung up. They were all smiling.

Smirking, the woman looked deranged with power. Scarlett had never liked them. It was why she'd turned down their job offers for years. Scott was the only reason she gave it the time of day. He'd begged her to take it. A steady job. They could stay in one place for awhile. Scott much preferred when she wasn't going around hunting and getting her hands dirty. Scott wasn't exactly the type of boyfriend who ran to her aid when her life was in danger either. No, he was more the type to bail her out of jail and then remind her that no one else would put up with her bullshit.

That was what they had. She knew what would be on the television before they turned it on.

Scott. The only vulnerability she had to exploit.

Pulling her gun from her boot, Scarlett aimed it at the woman in front of the television. The woman flipped on the screen despite the threat. And just as she expected, Scarlett was met with security footage. The words 'live feed' blinked in the corner. In the center of the room, tied to a chair, was Scott. There were two armed men on either side of him. Other than being bound and gagged he looked unharmed. At least from what she could tell from the footage.

"You see, Scarlett, if you don't finish the work you were hired to complete then your darling Scott will have two bullets in the back of his head. I'd put that gun down, dear, we both know that you won't shoot me while we have him. It looks like you have a weakness in your armor after all."

"Let him go. He has nothing to do with this." Scarlett knew that wouldn't work. Scott had always been there to get her out of trouble despite their differences. He was the only one who would put up with her behavior. She owed this to him.

"You're right. He has nothing to do with this. He's useless to us and useless to you. A failure of an engineer. Not even a third of what you are. Why bother with him? A man who holds you back from your potential? Do you use him to ground you? Or is it out of habit?"

"Let him go and I don't shoot you between the eyes." Scarlett wouldn't dignify the insults with a response. She had tried to leave Scott a dozen times but she always came crawling back. He was right. She had nothing and no one else. The right thing to do here was obvious. She didn't need Scott to tell her what it was.

"And if you do that then he dies. You're a good shot, Scarlett, but there are four of us and one of you. That and the security cameras watching your every move. Be logical about this, Scarlett, dear. Put down the gun. Don't let his blood be on your hands." The woman held her hand out expectantly for Scarlett's gun.

She weighed her shitty options. She could just go for it but then Scott would die. And Scott's life was worth far more than her own. MedCo had it all wrong. She was less than a third of the person Scott was. She was a stain on the universe. He was a light in it and the only reason she hadn't gone completely off the deep end. He more than kept her grounded.

Turning her gaze to the screen she saw Scott trembling with fear. His usually neat blond hair was messy. How many times had he begrudgingly cleaned her wounds? Bandaged her up and warned her to stop? Bailed her out? Covered for her when she was hungover?

Scarlett owed it to him.

Emptying the gun's clip, Scarlett tossed both the gun and the clip onto the table.

"That's a good girl." The woman clicked her tongue and nodded toward the man still standing silently guarding the door. "Take her back to her office. She has some lost time to make up for." Scarlett stared at the floor in annoyance. She'd memorized the image of Scott in the room and tried to guess where he was being held. She'd find him, free him, and then put a bullet in all three of them. The guard approached her. "Oh, and about our financial agreement?" Scarlett glared at the woman. "You can forget about it. Your fee, dear? Is getting to see your boyfriend again and leaving this place with your life."

Anything she said would get her into more trouble. The only one who would be punished for her snark, besides her, would be Scott and he didn't deserve that.

The guard grabbed Scarlett's arm roughly. She shoved him off and walked to the door on her own.

"Don't bother. I know the way." Just as she was about to leave, the Russian approached her.

"By the way? Stark Industries thanks you for your cooperation." Sarcasm in that obnoxious Russian accent of his. It felt made up, to insult the people of Russia.

"Mr. Ivanov? You and Stark Industries can go fuck yourselves."

Scarlett left the room and the guard followed closely behind her. He would keep her from making a break for it which would get Scott killed anyway. They knew her better than they let on. She wasn't the type to run in with a gun and no plan if she didn't have to. Everything she did had purpose and she wasn't desperate yet.

Scarlett was no fool. More than one soldier had their eyes on her. There were cameras everywhere and without a weapon, she didn't stand a chance of escape. Stopping in front of her office in the basement of the large MedCo facility, hidden deep in the South African desert, Scarlett turned to face her guard.

"I don't suppose you have a cigarette?" Scarlett nodded to the door behind her. "Ignore the 'highly flammable' sign on the door. Can't get any work done if I can't have a smoke now and again." The guard gave her a skeptical look with stern dark eyes. Much to her delight, he relented. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Scarlett pulled one free from the pack, slipped it behind her ear and then took another and slipped it between her lips. The guard told her exactly the sort of person he was with one simple action. "Thanks. Don't suppose you're hiding any scotch in there, huh?"

The guard didn't share her sense of humor and reached past her to open the door to her office. He was done entertaining her.

"Aw, first date and not even a kiss goodnight? I thought we had something special." Scarlett turned on her heels and walked inside her office. The door locked securely behind her and she twisted the cigarette between her fingers and overlooked the little left of her work that she hadn't destroyed.

She didn't smoke.

She set down the cigarettes on her desk. They would come in handy. It didn't matter what they held against her. Scarlett would not be building sophisticated weapons for anyone.